me with unspeakable uneasiness. Was I not the whole world,
and would not the universe crumble away when I was no more?

To dream of life had been a cherished vision, but this could not
possibly be death. I should assuredly awake presently. Yes, in a few
moments I would lean over, take Marguerite in my arms and dry her tears.
I would rest a little while longer before going to my office, and then
a new life would begin, brighter than the last. However, I did not feel
impatient; the commotion had been too strong. It was wrong of Marguerite
to give way like that when I had not even the strength to turn my head
on the pillow and smile at her. The next time that she moaned out,
"He is dead! Dead!" I would embrace her and murmur softly so as not to
startle her: "No, my darling, I was only asleep. You see, I am alive,
and I love you."

CHAPTER II

FUNERAL PREPARATIONS

Marguerite's cries had attracted attention, for all at once the door
was opened and a voice exclaimed: "What is the matter, neighbor? Is he
worse?"

I recognized the voice; it was that of an elderly woman, Mme Gabin, who
occupied a room on the same floor. She had been most obliging since our
arrival and had evidently become interested in our concerns. On her own
side she had lost no time in telling us her history. A stern landlord
had sold her furniture during the previous winter to pay himself his
rent, and since then she had resided at the lodginghouse in the Rue
Dauphine with her daughter Dede, a child of ten. They both cut and
pinked lamp shades, and between them they earned at the utmost only two
francs a day.

"Heavens! Is it all over?" cried Mme Gabin, looking at me.

I realized that she was drawing nearer. She examined me, touched me and,
turning to Marguerite, murmured compassionately: "Poor girl! Poor girl!"

My wife, wearied out, was sobbing like a child. Mme Gabin lifted her,
placed her in a dilapidated armchair near the fireplace and proceeded to
comfort her.

"Indeed, you'll do yourself harm if you go on like this, my dear. It's
no reason because your husband is gone that you should kill yourself
with weeping. Sure enough, when I lost Gabin I was just like you. I
remained three days without swallowing a morsel of food. But that didn't
help me--on the contrary, it pulled me down. Come, for the Lord's sake,
be sensible!"

By degrees Marguerite grew calmer; she was exhausted, and it was only at
intervals that she gave way to a fresh