wind with one skinny hand, and to hold the rags
of her most extraordinary undress together with the other, peered out at
them curiously. She was evidently just as she had turned out of her bed,
and a more revolting, witch-like old hag it would be hard to find; but
she bade the belated travellers enter, with a horrible grimace that was
intended for a smile, throwing the door wide open, and telling them
they were welcome to her house as she led the way into the kitchen. She
kindled the smouldering embers on the hearth into a blaze, threw on some
fresh wood, and then withdrew to mount to her chamber and make herself
a little more presentable--having first roused a stout peasant lad,
who served as hostler, and sent him to take the chariot into the court,
where he was heard directly unharnessing the weary horse and leading him
into the stable.

"We cannot leave poor Matamore's body in the chariot all night, like
a dead deer brought home from the chase," said Blazius; "the dogs out
there in the court might find it out. Besides, he had been baptized, and
his remains ought to be watched with and cared for, like any other good
Christian's."

So they brought in the sad burden tenderly, laid it on the long table,
and covered it again carefully with the white linen cloth. When the
old woman returned, and saw this strange and terrible sight, she was
frightened almost to death, and, throwing herself on her knees, began
begging volubly for mercy--evidently taking the troupe of comedians for
a band of assassins, and the dead man for their unfortunate victim.
It was with the greatest difficulty that Isabelle finally succeeded
in calming and reassuring the poor, distracted, old creature, who was
beside herself with terror, and made her listen to the story of poor
Matamore's death. When, at last, she fully understood the true state
of the case, she went and fetched more candles, which she lighted and
disposed symmetrically about the dead body, and kindly offered to sit up
and watch it with Mme. Leonarde--also to do all that was necessary and
usual for it--adding that she was always sent for in the village when
there was a death, to perform those last, sad offices. All this being
satisfactorily arranged--whereat they were greatly relieved--the weary
travellers were conducted into another room, and food was placed before
them; but the sad scenes just enacted had taken away their appetites,
though it was many long hours since they had eate