neck.

"Presently she lifted her eyes timidly till they looked on the eyes of
the old man--they must have looked strangely to her.

"'Father, dear father!' said she. There was a little clock at the
foot of the couch, and it ticked very--very loud.

"The poor girl gave a quick, frightened glance at me, and another
hurried look into the fixed eyes of the old man. She thought how it
must be; ah, _mon ami_, if you had heard her cry, '_Mon Dieu! il est
mort!_--_il est mort!_'"

For a moment the abbe could not go on.

"She was right," continued he, presently, "the old man was dead!"

The garcon removed the chicken, and served us with a dozen or two of
oysters, in the shell. For ten minutes the abbe had not touched his
wine--nor had I.

"He was buried," resumed the abbe, "just within the gates of Pere la
Chaise, a little to the right of the carriage way. A cypress is
growing by the grave, and there is at the head a small marble tablet,
very plain, inscribed simply, '_a mon pere_, 1845.'

"I was at the burial. There were very few to mourn."

"You saw mademoiselle?"

"Yes, I saw her; she was in deep black. Her face was covered with a
thick black veil--not so thick, though, but I could see a white
handkerchief all the time beneath; and I saw her slight figure
tremble. I was not near enough to hear her sobs, when they commenced
throwing down the earth upon the coffin.

"_Oui_, _mon ami_, I saw her walk away--not able to support herself,
but clinging for very weakness to the arm of the man whose face I had
seen at St. Louis. They passed slowly out of the gates; they entered a
carriage together, and drove away."

"It was Remy, I suppose?" said I.

"I do not know," said the abbe.

"And when did you see her again?"

"Not for months," said the abbe; and he sipped his wine.

"Shall I go on, _mon cher_?--it is a sad story."

I nodded affirmatively, and filled the abbe's glass, and took a nut or
two from the dish before us.

"I called at the hotel where monsieur had died; mademoiselle had gone,
the concierge could not tell where. I went to the hospital, and made
inquiries for a Monsieur Remy--no such name had been entered within a
year. I sometimes threw a glance up at the little window of the court;
it was bare and desolate, as you see it now. Once I went to the grave
of the old man--it was after the tablet had been raised; a rose-tree
had been put at the foot of the grave. I did not know, but thought who
must ha