iss
her. She was like some white turtle-dove with its downy feathers
ruffled. Wrapped in rustling gauze, she looked as round as a barrel,
but still no heavier than a bird. Her mother even could not find her
hands. By degrees the drawing-room seemed to be filling with a cloud
of snowballs. Several boys, in their black coats, were like dark spots
amidst the universal white. Lucien, now that his little wife was dead,
desired to choose another. However, he displayed the greatest
hesitation. He would have preferred a wife like Jeanne, taller than
himself; but at last he settled on Marguerite, whose hair fascinated
him, and to whom he attached himself for the day.

"The corpse hasn't been brought down yet," Pauline muttered at this
moment in Juliette's ear.

Pauline was as flurried as though the preliminaries of a ball were in
hand. It was with the greatest difficulty that her sister had
prevented her from donning a white dress for the ceremony.

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Juliette; "what are they dreaming about? I
must run up. Stay with these ladies."

She hastily left the room, where the mothers in their mourning attire
sat chatting in whispers, while the children dared not make the least
movement lest they should rumple their dresses. When she had reached
the top of the staircase and entered the chamber where the body lay,
Juliette's blood was chilled by the intense cold. Jeanne still lay on
the bed, with clasped hands; and, like Marguerite and the Levasseur
girls, she was arrayed in a white dress, white cap, and white shoes. A
wreath of white roses crowned the cap, as though she were a little
queen about to be honored by the crowd of guests who were waiting
below. In front of the window, on two chairs, was the oak coffin lined
with satin, looking like some huge jewel casket. The furniture was all
in order; a wax taper was burning; the room seemed close and gloomy,
with the damp smell and stillness of a vault which has been walled up
for many years. Thus Juliette, fresh from the sunshine and smiling
life of the outer world, came to a sudden halt, stricken dumb, without
the courage to explain that they must needs hurry.

"A great many people have come," she stammered at last. And then, as
no answer was forthcoming, she added, just for the sake of saying
something: "Henri has been forced to attend a consultation at
Versailles; you will excuse him."

Helene, who sat in front of the bed, gazed at her with vacant eyes.