rning, her features distorted, opposing mad
resistance first to the closing of the coffin, and then to its removal.
He was thinking how, in the cemetery, she with her own hands had cast
the earth upon her child, telling her to be patient, that she herself
would soon come and lie down beside her, and that that would be their
Paradise.

In spite of the animated and eager conversation concerning the mangy
Friend, the phantoms of the dead child and the distracted mother were
hovering in the room. Presently there came a moment of silence when no
one could think of anything more to say about the dog, and then the two
unhappy phantoms were heard by all, demanding that they speak of them,
and all could see them distinctly in the eyes of one who loved them, in
the eyes of poor, deaf Barborin. Her husband at once sought a diversion,
and propounded a problem in _tarocchi_ to Signor Giacomo. The other
_tarocchi_ enthusiasts immediately took up the question, the voices of
the phantoms could no longer be heard, and every one breathed more
freely.

It was nine o'clock. Usually at that hour the footman would come in
with two lighted candles, and prepare the little _tarocchi_ table in one
corner of the room, between the great fireplace and the balcony on the
West. Then the Marchesa would rise and say, with her habitual, drowsy
calm:

"If you are ready----"

The two or three guests would invariably answer: "Quite ready," and then
the three-handed or four-handed game would begin.

The old footman--who was devotedly attached to Don Franco--hesitated
that night about bringing the candles. He did not believe it possible
that his mistress and her guests would have the courage to play. At five
minutes past nine, as the footman had not yet appeared, each one began
privately commenting upon the delay. Before entering the house Paolin
had maintained that there would be no playing, while the prefect had
maintained the contrary. He now cast a triumphant glance at his
adversary, as did also Paolon, who, from a spirit of solidarity with the
other Paul, was pleased that he should be in the right. Pasotti, who had
felt sure of his game, began to show signs of uneasiness. At seven
minutes past nine the Marchesa requested the prefect to ring the bell.
It was now the prefect's turn to bestow a triumphant glance on Paolin,
and he put into it all the silent contempt for the old woman that it
would hold.

"Prepare the table," said the Marchesa to the