y. At last he muttered: "O God! the poor child!
what a calamity!"

He could only give utterance to those commonplace but heartrending
words. The door shut once more, and he went down the stairs.

CHAPTER XXIV.

When Madame Deberle was apprised of Jeanne's death she wept, and gave
way to one of those outbursts of emotion that kept her in a flutter
for eight-and-forty hours. Hers was a noisy and immoderate grief. She
came and threw herself into Helene's arms. Then a phrase dropped in
her hearing inspired her with the idea of imparting some affecting
surroundings to the child's funeral, and soon wholly absorbed her. She
offered her services, and declared her willingness to undertake every
detail. The mother, worn out with weeping, sat overwhelmed in her
chair; Monsieur Rambaud, who was acting in her name, was losing his
head. So he accepted the offer with profuse expressions of gratitude.
Helene merely roused herself for a moment to express the wish that
there should be some flowers--an abundance of flowers.

Without losing a minute, Madame Deberle set about her task. She spent
the whole of the next day in running from one lady friend to another,
bearing the woeful tidings. It was her idea to have a following of
little girls all dressed in white. She needed at least thirty, and did
not return till she had secured the full number. She had gone in
person to the Funeral Administration, discussed the various styles,
and chosen the necessary drapery. She would have the garden railings
hung with white, and the body might be laid out under the lilac trees,
whose twigs were already tipped with green. It would be charming.

"If only it's a fine day to-morrow!" she giddily remarked in the
evening when her scurrying to and fro had come to an end.

The morning proved lovely; there was a blue sky and a flood of
sunshine, the air was pure and invigorating as only the air of spring
can be. The funeral was to take place at ten o'clock. By nine the
drapery had been hung up. Juliette ran down to give the workmen her
ideas of what should be done. She did not wish the trees to be
altogether covered. The white cloth, fringed with silver, formed a
kind of porch at the garden gate, which was thrown back against the
lilac trees. However, Juliette soon returned to her drawing-room to
receive her lady guests. They were to assemble there to prevent Madame
Grandjean's two rooms from being filled to overflowing. St