it have been better?" exclaimed the beggar in a great rage.
"'Cause I'm poor and they're rich? Look at them now!" he said, pointing
to the two corpses with his hooked stick, as he stood trembling and
ragged, with the water dripping from him, and his battered hat, his
matted beard, his long unkempt hair, making him look terribly dirty and
miserable. "We're all equal when we're dead."

The group had grown bigger, and the peasants stood round with a
frightened, cowardly look on their faces. After a discussion as to what
they had better do, it was finally decided to carry the bodies back to
their homes, in the hope of getting a reward. Two carts were got ready,
and then a fresh difficulty arose; some thought it would be quite enough
to place straw at the bottom of the carts, and others thought it would
look better to put mattresses.

"But the mattresses would be soaked with blood," cried the woman who had
spoken before. "They'd have to be washed with _eau de javelle_."

"The chateau people'll pay for that," said a jolly-faced farmer. "They
can't expect to get things for nothing."

That decided the matter, and the two carts set off, one to the right,
the other to the left, jolting and shaking the remains of these two
beings who had so often been clasped in each other's arms, but who would
never meet again.

When the comte had seen the hut set off on its terrible journey, he had
fled away through the rain and the wind, and had run on and on across
the country like a madman. He ran for several hours, heedless of which
way his steps were taking him, and, at nightfall, he found himself at
his own chateau. The servants were anxiously awaiting his return, and
hastened to tell him that the two horses had just returned riderless,
for Julien's had followed the other one.

M. de Fourville staggered back. "Some accident must have happened to my
wife and the vicomte," he said in broken tones. "Let everyone go and
look for them."

He started off again, himself, as though he were going to seek them,
but, as soon as he was out of sight, he hid behind a bush, and watched
the road along which the woman he still loved so dearly would be brought
dead or dying, or perhaps maimed and disfigured for life. In a little
while a cart passed by, bearing a strange load; it drew up before the
chateau-gates, then passed through them. Yes, he knew it was she; but
the dread of hearing the horrible truth forced him to stay in his
hiding-place, and h