olly good threshing."

But she could not continue. The ladies were all down on her at once. Eh,
what? A threshing? It was Bismarck they were going to escort home with
blows from the butt ends of their muskets. What was this bad Frenchwoman
going to say next?

"Hush," whispered Rose, for so much noise hurt her.

The cold influence of the corpse once more overcame them, and they all
paused together. They were embarrassed; the dead woman was before them
again; a dull thread of coming ill possessed them. On the boulevard the
cry was passing, hoarse and wild:

"A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!"

Presently, when they were making up their minds to go, a voice was heard
calling from the passage:

"Rose! Rose!"

Gaga opened the door in astonishment and disappeared for a moment. When
she returned:

"My dear," she said, "it's Fauchery. He's out there at the end of the
corridor. He won't come any further, and he's beside himself because you
still stay near that body."

Mignon had at last succeeded in urging the journalist upstairs.
Lucy, who was still at the window, leaned out and caught sight of the
gentlemen out on the pavement. They were looking up, making energetic
signals to her. Mignon was shaking his fists in exasperation, and
Steiner, Fontan, Bordenave and the rest were stretching out their arms
with looks of anxious reproach, while Daguenet simply stood smoking a
cigar with his hands behind his back, so as not to compromise himself.

"It's true, dear," said Lucy, leaving the window open; "I promised to
make you come down. They're all calling us now."

Rose slowly and painfully left the chest.

"I'm coming down; I'm coming down," she whispered. "It's very certain
she no longer needs me. They're going to send in a Sister of Mercy."

And she turned round, searching for her hat and shawl. Mechanically she
filled a basin of water on the toilet table and while washing her hands
and face continued:

"I don't know! It's been a great blow to me. We used scarcely to be nice
to one another. Ah well! You see I'm quite silly over it now. Oh! I've
got all sorts of strange ideas--I want to die myself--I feel the end of
the world's coming. Yes, I need air."

The corpse was beginning to poison the atmosphere of the room. And after
long heedlessness there ensued a panic.

"Let's be off; let's be off, my little pets!" Gaga kept saying. "It
isn't wholesome here."

They went briskly out, casting a last glance at the bed as t