way beneath his feet; he was
obliged to step back to keep himself from slipping into the grave.

'_Ego sum_--' he began in a full voice, which rose above the mournful
tolling of the bell.

During the anthem, those who were present instinctively cast furtive
glances towards the bottom of the empty grave. Vincent, who had planted
the cross at the foot of the cavity opposite the priest, pushed the
loose earth with his foot, and amused himself by watching it fall. This
drew a laugh from Catherine, who was leaning forward from behind him to
get a better view. The peasants had set the litter on the grass and were
stretching their arms, while Brother Archangias prepared the sprinkler.

'Come here, Voriau!' called Fortune.

The big black dog, who had gone to sniff at the coffin, came back
sulkily.

'Why has the dog been brought?' exclaimed Rosalie.

'Oh! he followed us,' said Lisa, smiling quietly.

They were all chatting together in subdued tones round the baby's
coffin. The father and mother occasionally forgot all about it, but
on catching sight of it again, lying between them at their feet, they
relapsed into silence.

'And so old Bambousse wouldn't come?' said La Rousse. Mother Brichet
raised her eyes to heaven.

'He threatened to break everything to pieces yesterday when the little
one died,' said she. 'No, no, I must say that he is not a good man.
Didn't he nearly strangle me, crying out that he had been robbed, and
that he would have given one of his cornfields for the little one to
have died three days before the wedding?'

'One can never tell what will happen,' remarked Fortune with a knowing
look.

'What's the good of the old man putting himself out about it? We are
married, all the same, now,' added Rosalie.

Then they exchanged a smile across the little coffin while Lisa and
La Rousse nudged each other with their elbows. But afterwards they all
became very serious again. Fortune picked up a clod of earth to throw at
Voriau, who was now prowling about amongst the old tombstones.

'Ah! they've nearly finished over there, now!' La Rousse whispered very
softly.

Abbe Mouret was just concluding the _De profundis_ in front of Albine's
grave. Then, with slow steps, he approached the coffin, drew himself up
erect, and gazed at it for a moment without a quiver in his glance. He
looked taller, his face shone with a serenity that seemed to transfigure
him. He stooped and picked up a handful of earth, and sca