the dead
woman's face like drops of water, and, naturally, Madame Caravan, junior,
showed a decorous amount of grief, and uttered feeble moans as she stood
behind her husband, while she rubbed her eyes vigorously.

But, suddenly, Caravan raised himself up, with his thin hair in disorder,
and, looking very ugly in his grief, said:

"But--are you sure, doctor? Are you quite sure?"

The doctor stooped over the body, and, handling it with professional
dexterity, as a shopkeeper might do, when showing off his goods, he said:

"See, my dear friend, look at her eye."

He raised the eyelid, and the old woman's eye appeared altogether
unaltered, unless, perhaps, the pupil was rather larger, and Caravan felt
a severe shock at the sight. Then Monsieur Chenet took her thin arm,
forced the fingers open, and said, angrily, as if he had been
contradicted:

"Just look at her hand; I never make a mistake, you may be quite sure of
that."

Caravan fell on the bed, and almost bellowed, while his wife, still
whimpering, did what was necessary.

She brought the night-table, on which she spread a towel and placed four
wax candles on it, which she lighted; then she took a sprig of box, which
was hanging over the chimney glass, and put it between the four candles,
in a plate, which she filled with clean water, as she had no holy water.
But, after a moment's rapid reflection, she threw a pinch of salt into
the water, no doubt thinking she was performing some sort of act of
consecration by doing that, and when she had finished, she remained
standing motionless, and the doctor, who had been helping her, whispered
to her:

"We must take Caravan away."

She nodded assent, and, going up to her husband, who was still on his
knees, sobbing, she raised him up by one arm, while Chenet took him by
the other.

They put him into a chair, and his wife kissed his forehead, and then
began to lecture him. Chenet enforced her words and preached firmness,
courage, and resignation--the very things which are always wanting
in such overwhelming misfortunes--and then both of them took him by
the arms again and led him out.

He was crying like a great child, with convulsive sobs; his arms hanging
down, and his legs weak, and he went downstairs without knowing what he
was doing, and moving his feet mechanically. They put him into the chair
which he always occupied at dinner, in front of his empty soup plate. And
there he sat, without moving, his eyes fi