bouquet of white roses had been
prepared for each little girl; and these bouquets now had to be
distributed. The children, in an ecstasy of delight, held the great
clusters of flowers in front of them as though they had been wax
tapers; Lucien, still at Marguerite's side, daintily inhaled the
perfume of her blossoms as she held them to his face. All these little
maidens, their hands filled with flowers, looked radiant with
happiness in the golden light; but suddenly their faces grew grave as
they perceived the men placing the coffin on the hearse.

"Is she inside that thing?" asked Sophie in a whisper.

Her sister Blanche nodded assent. Then, in her turn, she said: "For
men it's as big as this!"

She was referring to the coffin, and stretched out her arms to their
widest extent. However, little Marguerite, whose nose was buried
amongst her roses, was seized with a fit of laughter; it was the
flowers, said she, which tickled her. Then the others in turn buried
their noses in their bouquets to find out if it were so; but they were
remonstrated with, and they all became grave once more.

The funeral procession was now filing into the street. At the corner
of the Rue Vineuse a woman without a cap, and with tattered shoes on
her feet, wept and wiped her cheeks with the corner of her apron.
People stood at many windows, and exclamations of pity ascended
through the stillness of the street. Hung with white silver-fringed
drapery the hearse rolled on without a sound; nothing fell on the ear
save the measured tread of the two white horses, deadened by the solid
earthen roadway. The bouquets and wreaths, borne on the funeral car,
formed a very harvest of flowers; the coffin was hidden by them; every
jolt tossed the heaped-up mass, and the hearse slowly sprinkled the
street with lilac blossom. From each of the four corners streamed a
long ribbon of white watered silk, held by four little girls--Sophie
and Marguerite, one of the Levasseur family, and little Mademoiselle
Guiraud, who was so small and so uncertain on her legs that her mother
walked beside her. The others, in a close body, surrounded the hearse,
each bearing her bouquet of roses. They walked slowly, their veils
waved, and the wheels rolled on amidst all this muslin, as though
borne along on a cloud, from which smiled the tender faces of cherubs.
Then behind, following Monsieur Rambaud, who bowed his pale face, came
several ladies and little boys, Rosalie, Zephyrin