other died when he was very young."

In the course of a few minutes, the servant came to tell them that the
priest had finished, and together they ascended the stairs. Forestier
seemed to have grown thinner since the preceding day. The priest was
holding his hand.

"Au revoir, my son. I will come again to-morrow morning"; and he left.
When he was gone, the dying man, who was panting, tried to raise his
two hands toward his wife and gasped:

"Save me--save me, my darling. I do not want to die--oh, save me--go
for the doctor. I will take anything. I do not want to die." He wept;
the tears coursed down his pallid cheeks. Then his hands commenced to
wander hither and thither continually, slowly, and regularly, as if
gathering something on the coverlet. His wife, who was also weeping,
sobbed:

"No, it is nothing. It is only an attack; you will be better to-morrow;
you tired yourself with that drive."

Forestier drew his breath quickly and so faintly that one could
scarcely hear him. He repeated:

"I do not want to die! Oh, my God--my God--what has happened to me? I
cannot see. Oh, my God!" His staring eyes saw something invisible to
the others; his hands plucked continually at the counterpane. Suddenly
he shuddered and gasped: "The cemetery--me--my God!" He did not speak
again. He lay there motionless and ghastly. The hours dragged on; the
clock of a neighboring convent chimed noon.

Duroy left the room to obtain some food. He returned an hour later;
Mme. Forestier would eat nothing. The invalid had not stirred. The
young woman was seated in an easy-chair at the foot of the bed. Duroy
likewise seated himself, and they watched in silence. A nurse, sent by
the doctor, had arrived and was dozing by the window.

Duroy himself was almost asleep when he felt a presentiment that
something was about to happen. He opened his eyes just in time to see
Forestier close his. He coughed slightly, and two streams of blood
issued from the corners of his mouth and flowed upon his night robe;
his hands ceased their perpetual motion; he had breathed his last. His
wife, perceiving it, uttered a cry and fell upon her knees by the
bedside. Georges, in surprise and affright, mechanically made the sign
of the cross.

The nurse, awakening, approached the bed and said: "It has come."
Duroy, recovering his self-possession, murmured with a sigh of relief:
"It was not as hard as I feared it would be."

That night Mme. Forestier and Duroy wat