,
rose-coloured chintz, she lay motionless, having been unconscious during
the whole night. Stretched upon her back, her little ivory-like hands
carelessly thrown upon the sheet, she no longer even opened her eyes,
and her finely-cut profile looked more delicate than ever under the
golden halo of her hair; in fact, anyone who had seen her would have
thought her already dead, had it not been for the slight breathing
movement of her lips.

The day before, Angelique, realising that she was very ill, had
confessed, and partaken of the Communion. Towards three o'clock in
the afternoon the good Abbe Cornille had brought to her the sacred
_Viaticum_. Then in the evening, as the chill of death gradually crept
over her, a great desire came to her to receive the Extreme Unction,
that celestial remedy, instituted for the cure of both the soul and
body. Before losing consciousness, her last words, scarcely murmured,
were understood by Hubertine, as in hesitating sentences she
expressed her wish for the holy oils. "Yes--oh yes!--as quickly--as
possible--before it is too late."

But death advanced. They had waited until day, and the Abbe, having been
notified, was about to come.

Everything was now ready to receive the clergyman. The Huberts had just
finished arranging the room. Under the gay sunlight, which at this early
morning hour struck fully upon the window-panes, it looked pure as the
dawn in the nudity of its great white walls. The table had been covered
with a fresh damask cloth. At the right and the left of the crucifix two
large wax-tapers were burning in the silver candelabrum which had been
brought up from the parlour, and there were also there the consecrated
wafers, the asperges brush, an ewer of water with its basin and a
napkin, and two plates of white porcelain, one of which was filled with
long bits of cotton, and the other with little _cornets_ of paper. The
greenhouses of the lower town had been thoroughly searched, but the
only inodorous flowers that had been found were the peonies--great white
peonies, enormous tufts of which adorned the table, like a shimmering
of white lace. And in the midst of this intense whiteness, Angelique,
dying, with closed eyes, still breathed gently with a half-perceptible
breath.

The doctor, who had made his first morning visit, had said that she
could not live through the day. She might, indeed, pass away at any
moment, without even having come to her senses at all. The Huber