ttered it over
the coffin crosswise. Then, in a voice so steady and clear that not a
syllable was lost, he said:

'_Revertitur in terrain suam unde erat, et spiritus redit ad Deum qui
dedit illum_.'

A shudder ran through those who were present. Lisa seemed to reflect for
a moment, and then remarked with an expression of worry: 'It is not very
cheerful, eh, when one thinks that one's own turn will come some day or
other.'

But Brother Archangias had now handed the sprinkler to the priest, who
took it and shook it several times over the corpse.

'_Requiescat in pace_,' he murmured.

'_Amen_,' responded Vincent and the Brother together, in tones so
respectively shrill and deep that Catherine had to cram her fist into
her mouth to keep from laughing.

'No, indeed, it is certainly not cheerful,' continued Lisa. 'There
really was nobody at all at that funeral. The graveyard would be quite
empty without us.'

'I've heard say that she killed herself,' said old mother Brichet.

'Yes, I know,' interrupted La Rousse. 'The Brother didn't want to
let her be buried amongst Christians, but Monsieur le Cure said
that eternity was for everybody. I was there. But all the same the
Philosopher might have come.'

At that very moment Rosalie reduced them all to silence by murmuring:
'See! there he is, the Philosopher.'

Jeanbernat was, indeed, just entering the graveyard. He walked straight
to the group that stood around Albine's grave; and he stepped along with
so lithe, so springy a gait, that none of them heard him coming. When
he was close to them, he remained for a moment behind Brother Archangias
and seemed to fix his eyes, for an instant, on the nape of the Brother's
neck. Then, just as the Abbe Mouret was finishing the office, he calmly
drew a knife from his pocket, opened it, and with a single cut sliced
off the Brother's right ear.

There had been no time for any one to interfere. The Brother gave a
terrible yell.

'The left one will be for another occasion,' said Jeanbernat quietly, as
he threw the ear upon the ground. Then he went off.

So great and so general was the stupefaction that nobody followed him.
Brother Archangias had dropped upon the heap of fresh soil which had
been thrown out of the grave. He was staunching his bleeding wound with
his handkerchief. One of the four peasants who had carried the coffin,
wanted to lead him away, conduct him home; but he refused with a gesture
and remained where he was