his companion. But as it
seemed impossible that they should ever know the truth, he fabricated
aloud the simplest explanation:

"No doubt your grandmother came in yesterday on her way back from
the asylum, to say good day to Uncle Macquart, before he had begun
drinking."

"Let us go away! let us go away!" cried Clotilde. "I am stifling here; I
cannot remain here!"

Pascal, too, wished to go and give information of the death. He went out
after her, shut up the house, and put the key in his pocket. Outside,
they heard the little yellow dog still howling. He had taken refuge
between Charles' legs, and the boy amused himself pushing him with his
foot and listening to him whining, without comprehending.

The doctor went at once to the house of M. Maurin, the notary at the
Tulettes, who was also mayor of the commune. A widower for ten years
past, and living with his daughter, who was a childless widow, he had
maintained neighborly relations with old Macquart, and had occasionally
kept little Charles with him for several days at a time, his daughter
having become interested in the boy who was so handsome and so much
to be pitied. M. Maurin, horrified at the news, went at once with the
doctor to draw up a statement of the accident, and promised to make out
the death certificate in due form. As for religious ceremonies, funeral
obsequies, they seemed scarcely possible. When they entered the kitchen
the draught from the door scattered the ashes about, and when they
piously attempted to collect them again they succeeded only in gathering
together the scrapings of the flags, a collection of accumulated dirt,
in which there could be but little of Uncle Macquart. What, then,
could they bury? It was better to give up the idea. So they gave it
up. Besides, Uncle Macquart had been hardly a devout Catholic, and the
family contented themselves with causing masses to be said later on for
the repose of his soul.

The notary, meantime, had immediately declared that there existed a
will, which had been deposited with him, and he asked Pascal to meet him
at his house on the next day but one for the reading; for he thought he
might tell the doctor at once that Uncle Macquart had chosen him as
his executor. And he ended by offering, like a kindhearted man, to keep
Charles with him until then, comprehending how greatly the boy, who was
so unwelcome at his mother's, would be in the way in the midst of all
these occurrences. Charles seemed e