tinctive impulse, endeavored to clasp
each other, and their eyes half-opened to exchange yet another glance.
They shuddered twice or thrice, their limbs stiffened, a deep sigh
struggled from their violet-colored lips. Rose and Blanche were both
dead! Gabriel and Sister Martha, after closing the eyes of the orphans,
knelt down to pray by the side of that funeral couch. Suddenly a
great tumult was heard in the room. Rapid footsteps, mingled with
imprecations, sounded close at hand, the curtain was drawn aside from
this mournful scene, and Dagobert entered precipitately, pale, haggard,
his dress in disorder. At sight of Gabriel and the Sister of Charity
kneeling beside the corpses of his children, the soldier uttered a
terrible roar, and tried to advance--but in vain--for, before Gabriel
could reach him, Dagobert fell flat on the ground, and his gray head
struck violently on the floor.

It is night--a dark and stormy night. One o'clock in the morning has
just sounded from the church of Montmartre. It is to the cemetery of
Montmartre that is carried the coffin which, according to the last
wishes of Rose and Blanche contains them both. Through the thick shadow,
which rests upon that field of death, may be seen moving a pale light.
It is the gravedigger. He advances with caution; a dark lantern is in
his hand. A man wrapped in a cloak accompanies him. He holds down his
head and weeps. It is Samuel. The old Jew--the keeper of the house
in the Rue Saint-Francois. On the night of the funeral of Jacques
Rennepont, the first who died of the seven heirs, and who was buried
in another cemetery, Samuel had a similar mysterious interview with the
gravedigger, to obtain a favor at the price of gold. A strange and awful
favor! After passing down several paths, bordered with cypress trees, by
the side of many tombs, the Jew and the gravedigger arrived, at a little
glade, situated near the western wall of the cemetery. The night was so
dark, that scarcely anything could be seen. After moving his lantern up
and down, and all about, the gravedigger showed Samuel, at the foot of a
tall yew-tree, with long black branches, a little mound of newly-raised
earth, and said: "It is here."

"You are sure of it?"

"Yes, yes--two bodies in one coffin! it is not such a common thing."

"Alas! two in the same coffin!" said the Jew, with a deep sigh.

"Now that you know the place, what do you want more?" asked the
gravedigger.

Samuel did not answe