hat the cow wanted was to be left
alone and not bothered. Then she set off towards the vestry, but, as she
passed the shed, she raised a fresh cry:

'There! there!' she shrieked, shaking her fist. 'Ah! the little wretch!'

Matthew was lying at full length on his back, with his feet in the air,
under the shed, waiting to be singed.* The gash which the knife had made
in his neck was still quite fresh, and was beaded with drops of blood.
And a little white hen was very delicately picking off these drops of
blood one by one.

* In some parts of France pigs, when killed, are singed, not scalded,
as is, I think, the usual practice in England.--ED.

'Why, of course,' quietly remarked Desiree, 'she's regaling herself.'
And the girl stooped and patted the pig's plump belly, saying: 'Eh! my
fat fellow, you have stolen their food too often to grudge them a wee
bit of your neck now!'

La Teuse hastily doffed her apron and threw it round Matthew's neck.
Then she hurried away and disappeared within the church. The great door
had just creaked on its rusty hinges, and a burst of chanting rose in
the open air amidst the quiet sunshine. Suddenly the bell began to toll
with slow and regular strokes. Desiree, who had remained kneeling
beside the pig patting his belly, raised her head to listen, while still
continuing to smile. When she saw that she was alone, having glanced
cautiously around, she glided away into the cow's stable and closed the
door behind her.

The little iron gate of the graveyard, which had been opened quite wide
to let the body pass, hung against the wall, half torn from its hinges.
The sunshine slept upon the herbage of the empty expanse, into which the
funeral procession passed, chanting the last verse of the _Miserere_.
Then silence fell.

'_Requiem oeternam dona ei, Domine_,' resumed Abbe Mouret, in solemn
tones.

'_Et lux perpetua luceat ei_,' Brother Archangias bellowed.

At the head walked Vincent, wearing a surplice and bearing the cross,
a large copper cross, half the silver plating of which had come off. He
lifted it aloft with both his hands. Then followed Abbe Mouret, looking
very pale in his black chasuble, but with his head erect, and without
a quiver on his lips as he chanted the office, gazing into the distance
with fixed eyes. The flame of the lighted candle which he was carrying
scarcely showed in the daylight. And behind him, almost touching him,
came Albine's coffin, borne by four p