it overflowed, heaped
up on its three shelves. Then she threw herself upon it, and the work of
destruction began, in the midst of the sacred obscurity of the infinite
repose of this funereal vigil.

"At last!" she repeated, in a low voice, "after thirty years of waiting.
Let us hurry--let us hurry. Martine, help me!"

She had already drawn forward the high chair of the desk, and mounted on
it at a bound, to take down, first of all, the papers on the top shelf,
for she remembered that the envelopes were there. But she was surprised
not to see the thick blue paper wrappers; there was nothing there but
bulky manuscripts, the doctor's completed but unpublished works, works
of inestimable value, all his researches, all his discoveries, the
monument of his future fame, which he had left in Ramond's charge.
Doubtless, some days before his death, thinking that only the envelopes
were in danger, and that no one in the world would be so daring as to
destroy his other works, he had begun to classify and arrange the papers
anew, and removed the envelopes out of sight.

"Ah, so much the worse!" murmured Felicite; "let us begin anywhere;
there are so many of them that if we wish to get through we must
hurry. While I am up here, let us clear these away forever. Here, catch
Martine!"

And she emptied the shelf, throwing the manuscripts, one by one, into
the arms of the servant, who laid them on the table with as little noise
as possible. Soon the whole heap was on it, and Felicite sprang down
from the chair.

"To the fire! to the fire! We shall lay our hands on the others,
and too, by and by, on those I am looking for. These can go into it,
meantime. It will be a good riddance, at any rate, a fine clearance,
yes, indeed! To the fire, to the fire with them all, even to the
smallest scrap of paper, even to the most illegible scrawl, if we wish
to be certain of destroying the contamination of evil."

She herself, fanatical and fierce, in her hatred of the truth, in her
eagerness to destroy the testimony of science, tore off the first page
of one of the manuscripts, lighted it at the lamp, and then threw this
burning brand into the great fireplace, in which there had not been a
fire for perhaps twenty years, and she fed the fire, continuing to
throw on it the rest of the manuscript, piece by piece. The servant, as
determined as herself, came to her assistance, taking another enormous
notebook, which she tore up leaf by leaf. From t