harles! He was dead.

I went to fetch Alice. What despair!

The two children were asleep.

March 14.--I have read again what I wrote on the morning of the 13th
about the knocking I heard during the night.

Charles has been laid out in the salon on the ground floor of the house
in the Rue Saint Maur. He lies on a bed covered with a sheet which the
women of the house have strewn with flowers. Two neighbours, workingmen
who love me, asked permission to watch by the body all night. The
coroner's physician, on uncovering the dear dead, wept.

I sent to Meurice a telegram couched in the following terms:

Meurice, 18 Rue Valois--

Appalling misfortune. Charles died this evening, 13th. Sudden stroke of
apoplexy. Tell Victor to come back at once.

The Prefect sent this telegram over the official wire.

We shall take Charles with us. Meanwhile he will be placed in the
depository.

MM. Alexis Bouvier and Germain Casse are helping me in these
heart-rending preparations.

At 4 o'clock Charles was placed in the coffin. I prevented them from
fetching Alice. I kissed the brow of my beloved, then the sheet of lead
was soldered. Next they put the oaken lid of the coffin on and screwed
it down; thus I shall never see him more. But the soul remains. If I did
not believe in the soul I would not live another hour.

I dined with my grandchildren, little Georges and little Jeanne.

I consoled Alice. I wept with her. I said "thou" to her for the first
time.

March 15.--For two nights I have not slept. I could not sleep last
night.

Edgar Quinet came to see me last evening. On viewing Charles's coffin in
the parlor, he said:

"I bid thee adieu, great mind, great talent, great soul, beautiful of
face, more beautiful of thought, son of Victor Hugo!"

We talked together of this great mind that is no more. We were calm. The
night watcher wept as he listened to us.

The Prefect of the Gironde called. I could not receive him.

This morning at 10 o'clock I went to No. 13, Rue Saint Maur. The hearse
was there. MM. Bouvier and Mourot awaited me. I entered the salon. I
kissed the coffin. Then he was taken away. There was one carriage. These
gentlemen and I entered it. Arrived at the cemetery the coffin was taken
from the hearse. Six men carried it. MM. Alexis Bouvier, Mourot and I
followed, bareheaded. It was raining in torrents. We walked behind the
coffin.

At the end of a long alley of plane trees we found the depo