r. And the hands of the sick man seemed dead under the
dingy sheets.

Celeste watched him with restless activity, made him take physic, applied
blister plasters to him, and was constantly waving up and down the house,
while the old Amable remained at the side of his loft, watching at a
distance the gloomy cave where his son was dying. He did not come near
him, through hatred of the wife, sulking like an ill-tempered dog.

Six more days passed, then, one morning, as Celeste, who was now asleep
on the ground on two loose bundles of straw, was going to see whether her
man was better, she no longer heard his rapid breathing from the interior
of his low bed. Terror stricken, she asked:

"Well, Cesaire, what sort of a night had you?"

He did not answer. She put out her hand to touch him, and the flesh on
his face felt cold as ice. She uttered a great cry, the long cry of a
woman overpowered with fright. He was dead.

At this cry, the deaf old man appeared, at the top of his ladder, and
when he saw Celeste rushing to call for help, he quickly descended, felt
in his turn the flesh of his son, and suddenly realizing what had
happened, went to shut the door from the inside, to prevent the wife
from reentering, and to resume possession of his dwelling, since his son
was no longer living.

Then he sat down on a chair by the dead man's side.

Some of the neighbors arrived, called out, and knocked. He did not hear
them. One of them broke the glass of the window, and jumped into the
room. Others followed. The door was opened again, and Celeste reappeared,
all in tears, with swollen face, and bloodshot eyes. Then, old Amable,
vanquished, without uttering a word, climbed back to his loft.

The funeral took place next morning, then, after the ceremony, the
father-in-law and the daughter-in-law found themselves alone in the
farm-house with the child.

It was the usual dinner hour. She lighted the fire, divided the soup, and
placed the plated on the table, while the old man sat on the chair
waiting without appearing to look at her. When the meal was ready, she
bawled out in his ear:

"Come, daddy, you must eat." He rose up, took his seat at the end of the
table, emptied his pot, masticated his bread and butter, drank his two
glasses of cider, and then took himself off.

It was one of those warm days, one of those enjoyable days when life
ferments, palpitates, blooms all over the surface of the soil.

Old Amable pursued a litt