ful old Jean Rehu, looking taller
than ever in a long coat, and holding up the little brown head, carved,
one might fancy, out of a cocoa-nut, with an air of contemptuous
indifference telling that 'this was a thing he had seen' any number of
times before. Indeed in the course of the sixty years during which he
had been in receipt of the tallies of the Academie, he must have heard
many such funeral chants, and sprinkled much holy water on illustrious
biers.

But if Jean Rehu was a 'deity,' whose miraculous immortality justified
the name, it could only be applied in mockery to the band of patriarchs
who followed him. Decrepit, bent double, gnarled as old apple trees,
with feet of lead, limp legs, and blinking owlish eyes, they stumbled
along, either supported on an arm or feeling their way with outstretched
hands; and their names whispered by the crowd recalled works long
dead and forgotten. Beside such ghosts as these, 'on furlough from the
cemetery,' as was remarked by a smart young soldier in the guard of
honour, the rest of the Academicians seemed young. They posed and
strutted before the delighted eyes of the ladies, whose bright gleams
reached them through the black veils, the ranks of the crowd, and the
cloaks and knapsacks of the bewildered soldiers. On this occasion again
Freydet, bowing to two or three 'future colleagues,' encountered cold or
contemptuous smiles, like those which a man sees when he dreams that his
dearest friends have forgotten him. But he had not time to be depressed,
being caught and turned about by the double stream which moved up the
church and towards the door.

'Well, my lord, you will have to be stirring now,' was the advice of
friendly Picheral, whispered in the midst of the hubbub and the scraping
of chairs. It sent the candidate's blood tingling through his veins. But
just as he passed before the bier Danjou muttered, without looking at
him, as he handed him the holy-water brush, 'Whatever you do, be quiet,
and let things slide.' His knees shook beneath him. Bestir yourself! Be
quiet! Which advice was he to take? Which was the best? Doubtless his
master, Astier, would tell him, and he tried to reach him outside the
church. It was no easy task in the confusion of the court, where they
were forming the procession, and lifting the coffin under its heap of
countless wreaths. Never was a scene more lively than this coming out
from the funeral into the brilliant daylight; everywhere people