ding tone: "Cephyse--my dear Cephyse--are you quite determined to
die?"

"How should I hesitate?" answered Cephyse, in a firm voice. "Come,
sister, let us once more make our reckoning. If even I could forget my
shame, and Jacques' contempt in his last moments, what would remain to
me? Two courses only: first, to be honest, and work for my living. But
you know that, in spite of the best will in the world, work will often
fail, as it has failed for the last few days, and, even when I got it, I
would have to live on four to five francs a week. Live? that is to say,
die by inches. I know that already, and I prefer dying at once. The
other course would be to live a life of infamy--and that I will not do.
Frankly, sister, between frightful misery, infamy, or death, can the
choice be doubtful? Answer me!"

Then, without giving Mother Bunch time to speak, Cephyse added, in an
abrupt tone: "Besides, what is the good of discussing it? I have made up
my mind, and nothing shall prevent my purpose, since all that you, dear
sister, could obtain from me, was a delay of a few days, to see if the
cholera would not save us the trouble. To please you I consented; the
cholera has come, killed every one else in the house, but left us. You
see, it is better to do one's own business," added she, again smiling
bitterly. Then she resumed: "Besides, dear sister, you also wish to
finish with life."

"It is true, Cephyse," answered the sempstress, who seemed very much
depressed; "but alone--one has only to answer for one's self--and to die
with you," added she, shuddering, "appears like being an accomplice in
your death."

"Do you wish, then, to make an end of it, I in one place, you in
another?--that would be agreeable!" said Cephyse, displaying in that
terrible moment the sort of bitter and despairing irony which is more
frequent than may be imagined in the midst of mortal anguish.

"Oh, no, no!" said the other in alarm, "not alone--I will not die
alone!"

"Do you not see, dear sister, we are right not to part? And yet," added
Cephyse, in a voice of emotion, "my heart almost breaks sometimes, to
think that you will die like me."

"How selfish!" said the hunchback, with a faint smile. "What reasons
have I to love life? What void shall I leave behind me?"

"But you are a martyr, sister," resumed Cephyse. "The priests talk of
saints! Is there one of them so good as you? And yet you are about to
die like me, who have always been idle, care