been
if Jeanne could only have smiled on her for the last time!

"No, no!" she shrieked. "I pray you, leave her for a moment. You
cannot take her from me. I want to embrace her. Oh, only a moment,
only a moment!"

With trembling arms she clasped her child to her bosom, eager to
dispute possession with the men who stood in the ante-room, with their
backs turned towards her and impatient frowns on their faces. But her
lips were powerless to breathe any warmth on the cold countenance; she
became conscious that Jeanne's obstinacy was not to be overcome, that
she refused forgiveness. And then she allowed herself to be dragged
away, and fell upon a chair in the dining-room, with the one mournful
cry, again and again repeated: "My God! My God!"

Monsieur Rambaud and Madame Deberle were overcome by emotion. There
was an interval of silence, but when the latter opened the door
halfway it was all over. There had been no noise--scarcely a stir. The
screws, oiled beforehand, now closed the lid for ever. The chamber was
left empty, and a white sheet was thrown over the coffin.

The bedroom door remained open, and no further restraint was put upon
Helene. On re-entering the room she cast a dazed look on the furniture
and round the walls. The men had borne away the corpse. Rosalie had
drawn the coverlet over the bed to efface the slight hollow made by
the form of the little one whom they had lost. Then opening her arms
with a distracted gesture and stretching out her hands, Helene rushed
towards the staircase. She wanted to go down, but Monsieur Rambaud
held her back, while Madame Deberle explained to her that it was not
the thing to do. But she vowed she would behave rationally, that she
would not follow the funeral procession. Surely they could allow her
to look on; she would remain quiet in the garden pavilion. Both wept
as they heard her pleading. However, she had to be dressed. Juliette
threw a black shawl round her to conceal her morning wrap. There was
no bonnet to be found; but at last they came across one from which
they tore a bunch of red vervain flowers. Monsieur Rambaud, who was
chief mourner, took hold of Helene's arm.

"Do not leave her," whispered Madame Deberle as they reached the
garden. "I have so many things to look after!"

And thereupon she hastened away. Helene meanwhile walked with
difficulty, her eyes ever seeking something. As soon as she had found
herself out of doors she had drawn a long sigh. Ah! w