counted, and baby
Guiraud was missing; but she was at last seen in the distance, gravely
toddling along a path with her mother's parasol. The ladies then
turned towards the gateway, driving the stream of white dresses before
them. Madame Berthier congratulated Pauline on her marriage, which was
to take place during the following month. Madame Deberle informed them
that she was setting out in three days' time for Naples, with her
husband and Lucien. The crowd now quickly disappeared; Zephyrin and
Rosalie were the last to remain. Then in their turn they went off,
linked together, arm-in-arm, delighted with their outing, although
their hearts were heavy with grief. Their pace was slow, and for a
moment longer they could be seen at the end of the path, with the
sunshine dancing over them.

"Come," murmured Monsieur Rambaud to Helene.

With a gesture she entreated him to wait. She was alone, and to her it
seemed as though a page had been torn from the book of her life. As
soon as the last of the mourners had disappeared, she knelt before the
tomb with a painful effort. Abbe Jouve, robed in his surplice, had not
yet risen to his feet. Both prayed for a long time. Then, without
speaking, but with a glowing glance of loving-kindness and pardon, the
priest assisted her to rise.

"Give her your arm," he said to Monsieur Rambaud.

Towards the horizon stretched Paris, all golden in the radiance of
that spring morning. In the cemetery a chaffinch was singing.

CHAPTER XXV.

Two years were past and gone. One morning in December the little
cemetery lay slumbering in the intense cold. Since the evening before
snow had been falling, a fine snow, which a north wind blew before it.
From the paling sky the flakes now fell at rarer intervals, light and
buoyant, like feathers. The snow was already hardening, and a thick
trimming of seeming swan's-down edged the parapet of the terrace.
Beyond this white line lay Paris, against the gloomy grey on the
horizon.

Madame Rambaud was still praying on her knees in the snow before the
grave of Jeanne. Her husband had but a moment before risen silently to
his feet. Helene and her old lover had been married in November at
Marseilles. Monsieur Rambaud had disposed of his business near the
Central Markets, and had come to Paris for three days, in order to
conclude the transaction. The carriage now awaiting them in the Rue
des Reservoirs was to take them back to th