fell asleep.

XXV. IN THE CATHEDRAL.
I awoke with the dawn, and, dressing, looked out of the window, seeing
the brindled light spread over the battered roofs and ruins of the Lower
Town. A bell was calling to prayers in the Jesuit College not far away,
and bugle-calls told of the stirring garrison. Soldiers and stragglers
passed down the street near by, and a few starved peasants crept about
the cathedral with downcast eyes, eager for crumbs that a well-fed
soldier might cast aside. Yet I knew that in the Intendant's Palace and
among the officers of the army there was abundance, with revelry and
dissipation.

Presently I drew to the trap-door of my loft, and, raising it gently,
came down the ladder to the little hallway, and softly opened the door
of the room where Labrouk's body lay. Candles were burning at his head
and his feet, and two peasants sat dozing in chairs near by. I could see
Labrouk's face plainly in the flickering light: a rough, wholesome face
it was, refined by death, yet unshaven and unkempt, too. Here was work
for Voban's shears and razor. Presently there was a footstep behind me,
and, turning, I saw in the half-light the widowed wife.

"Madame," said I in a whisper, "I too weep with you. I pray for as true
an end for myself."

"He was of the true faith, thank the good God," she said sincerely. She
passed into the room, and the two watchers, after taking refreshment,
left the house. Suddenly she hastened to the door, called one back, and,
pointing to the body, whispered something. The peasant nodded and turned
away. She came back into the room, stood looking at the face of the dead
man for a moment, and bent over and kissed the crucifix clasped in the
cold hands. Then she stepped about the room, moving a chair and sweeping
up a speck of dust in a mechanical way. Presently, as if she again
remembered me, she asked me to enter the room. Then she bolted the outer
door of the house. I stood looking at the body of her husband, and said,
"Were it not well to have Voban the barber?"

"I have sent for him and for Gabord," she replied. "Gabord was Jean's
good friend. He is with General Montcalm. The Governor put him in prison
because of the marriage of Mademoiselle Duvarney, but Monsieur Doltaire
set him free, and now he serves General Montcalm.

"I have work in the cathedral," continued the poor woman, "and I shall
go to it this morning as I have always gone. There is a little unused
closet in