ord Morinval, and on the back seat
were Lord Montbron and his niece, Lady Morinval. The pale and anxious
countenance of the young lady showed the alarm which she felt; and
Montbron, notwithstanding his firmness of mind, appeared to be
very uneasy; he, as well as his niece, frequently had recourse to a
smelling-bottle filled with camphor.

During the last few minutes, the carriage had advanced very slowly,
the postilions managing their horses with great caution, when a sudden
hubbub, at first distant and undefined, but soon more distinct, arose
among the throng, as it drew near, the ringing sound of chains and
metal, peculiar to the artillery-wagons, was plainly audible, and
presently one of these vehicles came towards the travelling-carriage,
from the direction of the Quai Notre-Dame. It seemed strange, that
though the crowd was so compact, yet at the rapid approach of this
wagon, the close ranks of human beings opened as if by enchantment, but
the following words which were passed from mouth to mouth soon accounted
for the prodigy: "A wagon full of dead! the wagon of the dead!" As
we have already stated, the usual funeral conveyances were no longer
sufficient for the removal of the corpses; a number of artillery wagons
had been put into requisition, and the coffins were hastily piled in
these novel hearses.

Many of the spectators regarded this gloomy vehicle with dismay, but the
quarryman and his band redoubled their horrible jokes.

"Make way for the omnibus of the departed!" cried Ciboule.

"No danger of having one's toes crushed in that omnibus," said the
quarryman.

"Doubtless they're easy to please, the stiff-uns in there."

"They never want to be set down, at all events."

"I say, there's only one reg'lar on duty as postilion!"

"That's true, the leaders are driven by a man in a smock-frock."

"Oh! I daresay the other soldier was tired, lazy fellow! and got into
the omnibus with the others--they'll all get out at the same big hole."

"Head foremost, you know."

"Yes, they pitch them head first into a bed of lime."

"Why, one might follow the dead-cart blind-fold, and no mistake. It's
worse than Montfaucon knacker-yards!"

"Ha! ha! ha!--it's rather gamey!" said the quarryman, alluding to the
infectious and cadaverous odor which this funeral conveyance left behind
it.

"Here's sport!" exclaimed Ciboule: "the omnibus of the dead will run
against the fine coach. Hurrah! the rich folks will smell dea