the breath had almost left the unfortunate man's body when
his friends seized him, snatched him from his bed and laid him on the
stone floor of the room, so that, stretched out on the earth, our mother,
he should yield up his soul, according to the command of Brahma.

They then sent to ask the mayor, M. Boissaye, for a permit to burn the
body that very day so as to fulfill the prescribed ceremonial of the
Hindoo religion. The mayor hesitated, telegraphed to the prefecture to
demand instructions, at the same time sending word that a failure to
reply would be considered by him tantamount to a consent. As he had
received no reply at 9 o'clock that evening, he decided, in view of the
infectious character of the disease of which the East Indian had died,
that the cremation of the body should take place that very night, beneath
the cliff, on the beach, at ebb tide.

The mayor is being criticized now for this decision, though he acted as
an intelligent, liberal and determined man, and was upheld and advised by
the three physicians who had watched the case and reported the death.

They were dancing at the Casino that evening. It was an early autumn
evening, rather chilly. A pretty strong wind was blowing from the ocean,
although as yet there was no sea on, and swift, light, ragged clouds were
driving across the sky. They came from the edge of the horizon, looking
dark against the background of the sky, but as they approached the moon
they grew whiter and passed hurriedly across her face, veiling it for a
few seconds without completely hiding it.

The tall straight cliffs that inclose the rounded beach of Etretat and
terminate in two celebrated arches, called "the Gates," lay in shadow,
and made two great black patches in the softly lighted landscape.

It had rained all day.

The Casino orchestra was playing waltzes, polkas and quadrilles. A rumor
was presently circulated among the groups of dancers. It was said that an
East Indian prince had just died at the Hotel des Bains and that the
ministry had been approached for permission to burn the body. No one
believed it, or at least no one supposed that such a thing could occur so
foreign was the custom as yet to our customs, and as the night was far
advanced every one went home.

At midnight, the lamplighter, running from street to street,
extinguished, one after another, the yellow jets of flame that lighted up
the sleeping houses, the mud and the puddles of water. We waite