he early times I would have
given I don't know what for a good fall of rain to soak me and wash away
all the dust. Ah! I shall never get used to their awful Rome. What a
country and what people!"

Pierre was quite enlivened by her stubborn fidelity to her own nook,
which after five and twenty years of absence still left her horrified
with that city of crude light and black vegetation, true daughter as she
was of a smiling and temperate clime which of a morning was steeped in
rosy mist. "But now that your young mistress is dead," said he, "what
keeps you here? Why don't you take the train with me?"

She looked at him in surprise: "Go off with you, go back to Auneau! Oh!
it's impossible, Monsieur l'Abbe. It would be too ungrateful to begin
with, for Donna Serafina is accustomed to me, and it would be bad on my
part to forsake her and his Eminence now that they are in trouble. And
besides, what could I do elsewhere? No, my little hole is here now."

"So you will never see Auneau again?"

"No, never, that's certain."

"And you don't mind being buried here, in their ground which smells of
sulphur?"

She burst into a frank laugh. "Oh!" she said, "I don't mind where I am
when I'm dead. One sleeps well everywhere. And it's funny that you should
be so anxious as to what there may be when one's dead. There's nothing,
I'm sure. That's what tranquillises me, to feel that it will be all over
and that I shall have a rest. The good God owes us that after we've
worked so hard. You know that I'm not devout, oh! dear no. Still that
doesn't prevent me from behaving properly, and, true as I stand here,
I've never had a lover. It seems foolish to say such a thing at my age,
still I say it because it's the sober truth."

She continued laughing like the worthy woman she was, having no belief in
priests and yet without a sin upon her conscience. And Pierre once more
marvelled at the simple courage and great practical common sense of this
laborious and devoted creature, who for him personified the whole
unbelieving lowly class of France, those who no longer believe and will
believe never more. Ah! to be as she was, to do one's work and lie down
for the eternal sleep without any revolt of pride, satisfied with the one
joy of having accomplished one's share of toil!

When Pierre had finished his supper Victorine summoned Giacomo to clear
the things away. And as it was only half-past eight she advised the
priest to spend another quiet hou