A SIMPLE SOUL By Gustave Flaubert CHAPTER I For half a century the housewives of Pont-l'Eveque had envied MadameAubain her servant Felicite. For a hundred francs a year, she cooked and did the housework, washed, ironed, mended, harnessed the horse, fattened the poultry, made thebutter and remained faithful to her mistress--although the latter was byno means an agreeable person. Madame Aubain had married a comely youth without any money, who died inthe beginning of 1809, leaving her with two young children and a numberof debts. She sold all her property excepting the farm of Toucques andthe farm of Geffosses, the income of which barely amounted to 5, 000francs; then she left her house in Saint-Melaine, and moved into a lesspretentious one which had belonged to her ancestors and stood back ofthe market-place. This house, with its slate-covered roof, was builtbetween a passage-way and a narrow street that led to the river. Theinterior was so unevenly graded that it caused people to stumble. Anarrow hall separated the kitchen from the parlour, where Madame Aubainsat all day in a straw armchair near the window. Eight mahogany chairsstood in a row against the white wainscoting. An old piano, standingbeneath a barometer, was covered with a pyramid of old books and boxes. On either side of the yellow marble mantelpiece, in Louis XV. Style, stood a tapestry armchair. The clock represented a temple of Vesta;and the whole room smelled musty, as it was on a lower level than thegarden. On the first floor was Madame's bed-chamber, a large room papered in aflowered design and containing the portrait of Monsieur dressed in thecostume of a dandy. It communicated with a smaller room, in which therewere two little cribs, without any mattresses. Next, came the parlour(always closed), filled with furniture covered with sheets. Then a hall, which led to the study, where books and papers were piled on the shelvesof a book-case that enclosed three quarters of the big black desk. Two panels were entirely hidden under pen-and-ink sketches, Gouachelandscapes and Audran engravings, relics of better times and vanishedluxury. On the second floor, a garret-window lighted Felicite's room, which looked out upon the meadows. She arose at daybreak, in order to attend mass, and she worked withoutinterruption until night; then, when dinner was over, the dishes clearedaway and the door securely locked, she would bury the log under theashes and fall asleep in front of the hearth with a rosary in her hand. Nobody could bargain with greater obstinacy, and as for cleanliness, the lustre on her brass sauce-pans was the envy and despair of otherservants. She was most economical, and when she ate she would gather upcrumbs with the tip of her finger, so that nothing should be wasted ofthe loaf of bread weighing twelve pounds which was baked especially forher and lasted three weeks. Summer and winter she wore a dimity kerchief fastened in the back with apin, a cap which concealed her hair, a red skirt, grey stockings, and anapron with a bib like those worn by hospital nurses. Her face was thin and her voice shrill. When she was twenty-five, shelooked forty. After she had passed fifty, nobody could tell herage; erect and silent always, she resembled a wooden figure workingautomatically. CHAPTER II Like every other woman, she had had an affair of the heart. Her father, who was a mason, was killed by falling from a scaffolding. Then hermother died and her sisters went their different ways; a farmer took herin, and while she was quite small, let her keep cows in the fields. Shewas clad in miserable rags, beaten for the slightest offence and finallydismissed for a theft of thirty sous which she did not commit. She tookservice on another farm where she tended the poultry; and as she waswell thought of by her master, her fellow-workers soon grew jealous. One evening in August (she was then eighteen years old), they persuadedher to accompany them to the fair at Colleville. She was immediatelydazzled by the noise, the lights in the trees, the brightness of thedresses, the laces and gold crosses, and the crowd of people allhopping at the same time. She was standing modestly at a distance, whenpresently a young man of well-to-do appearance, who had been leaning onthe pole of a wagon and smoking his pipe, approached her, and asked herfor a dance. He treated her to cider and cake, bought her a silk shawl, and then, thinking she had guessed his purpose, offered to see her home. When they came to the end of a field he threw her down brutally. But shegrew frightened and screamed, and he walked off. One evening, on the road leading to Beaumont, she came upon a wagonloaded with hay, and when she overtook it, she recognised Theodore. Hegreeted her calmly, and asked her to forget what had happened betweenthem, as it "was all the fault of the drink. " She did not know what to reply and wished to run away. Presently he began to speak of the harvest and of the notables of thevillage; his father had left Colleville and bought the farm of LesEcots, so that now they would be neighbours. "Ah!" she exclaimed. Hethen added that his parents were looking around for a wife for him, butthat he, himself, was not so anxious and preferred to wait for a girlwho suited him. She hung her head. He then asked her whether she hadever thought of marrying. She replied, smilingly, that it was wrong ofhim to make fun of her. "Oh! no, I am in earnest, " he said, and put hisleft arm around her waist while they sauntered along. The air was soft, the stars were bright, and the huge load of hay oscillated in front ofthem, drawn by four horses whose ponderous hoofs raised clouds of dust. Without a word from their driver they turned to the right. He kissed heragain and she went home. The following week, Theodore obtained meetings. They met in yards, behind walls or under isolated trees. She was notignorant, as girls of well-to-do families are--for the animals hadinstructed her;--but her reason and her instinct of honour kept her fromfalling. Her resistance exasperated Theodore's love and so in orderto satisfy it (or perchance ingenuously), he offered to marry her. Shewould not believe him at first, so he made solemn promises. But, in ashort time he mentioned a difficulty; the previous year, his parents hadpurchased a substitute for him; but any day he might be drafted and theprospect of serving in the army alarmed him greatly. To Felicite hiscowardice appeared a proof of his love for her, and her devotion to himgrew stronger. When she met him, he would torture her with his fears andhis entreaties. At last, he announced that he was going to the prefecthimself for information, and would let her know everything on thefollowing Sunday, between eleven o'clock and midnight. When the time grew near, she ran to meet her lover. But instead of Theodore, one of his friends was at the meeting-place. He informed her that she would never see her sweetheart again; for, in order to escape the conscription, he had married a rich old woman, Madame Lehoussais, of Toucques. The poor girl's sorrow was frightful. She threw herself on the ground, she cried and called on the Lord, and wandered around desolately untilsunrise. Then she went back to the farm, declared her intention ofleaving, and at the end of the month, after she had received herwages, she packed all her belongings in a handkerchief and started forPont-l'Eveque. In front of the inn, she met a woman wearing widow's weeds, and uponquestioning her, learned that she was looking for a cook. The girldid not know very much, but appeared so willing and so modest in herrequirements, that Madame Aubain finally said: "Very well, I will give you a trial. " And half an hour later Felicite was installed in her house. At first she lived in a constant anxiety that was caused by "the styleof the household" and the memory of "Monsieur, " that hovered overeverything. Paul and Virginia, the one aged seven, and the otherbarely four, seemed made of some precious material; she carried thempig-a-back, and was greatly mortified when Madame Aubain forbade her tokiss them every other minute. But in spite of all this, she was happy. The comfort of her newsurroundings had obliterated her sadness. Every Thursday, friends of Madame Aubain dropped in for a game ofcards, and it was Felicite's duty to prepare the table and heat thefoot-warmers. They arrived at exactly eight o'clock and departed beforeeleven. Every Monday morning, the dealer in second-hand goods, who lived underthe alley-way, spread out his wares on the sidewalk. Then the city wouldbe filled with a buzzing of voices in which the neighing of horses, thebleating of lambs, the grunting of pigs, could be distinguished, mingledwith the sharp sound of wheels on the cobble-stones. About twelveo'clock, when the market was in full swing, there appeared at the frontdoor a tall, middle-aged peasant, with a hooked nose and a cap on theback of his head; it was Robelin, the farmer of Geffosses. Shortlyafterwards came Liebard, the farmer of Toucques, short, rotund andruddy, wearing a grey jacket and spurred boots. Both men brought their landlady either chickens or cheese. Felicitewould invariably thwart their ruses and they held her in great respect. At various times, Madame Aubain received a visit from the Marquis deGremanville, one of her uncles, who was ruined and lived at Falaise onthe remainder of his estates. He always came at dinner-time and broughtan ugly poodle with him, whose paws soiled their furniture. In spite ofhis efforts to appear a man of breeding (he even went so far as to raisehis hat every time he said "My deceased father"), his habits got thebetter of him, and he would fill his glass a little too often and relatebroad stories. Felicite would show him out very politely and say: "Youhave had enough for this time, Monsieur de Gremanville! Hoping to seeyou again!" and would close the door. She opened it gladly for Monsieur Bourais, a retired lawyer. His baldhead and white cravat, the ruffling of his shirt, his flowing browncoat, the manner in which he took snuff, his whole person, in fact, produced in her the kind of awe which we feel when we see extraordinarypersons. As he managed Madame's estates, he spent hours with her inMonsieur's study; he was in constant fear of being compromised, had agreat regard for the magistracy and some pretensions to learning. In order to facilitate the children's studies, he presented them withan engraved geography which represented various scenes of the world;cannibals with feather head-dresses, a gorilla kidnapping a young girl, Arabs in the desert, a whale being harpooned, etc. Paul explained the pictures to Felicite. And, in fact, this was her onlyliterary education. The children's studies were under the direction of a poor devil employedat the town-hall, who sharpened his pocket-knife on his boots and wasfamous for his penmanship. When the weather was fine, they went to Geffosses. The house was builtin the centre of the sloping yard; and the sea looked like a grey spotin the distance. Felicite would take slices of cold meat from the lunchbasket and they would sit down and eat in a room next to the dairy. Thisroom was all that remained of a cottage that had been torn down. The dilapidated wall-paper trembled in the drafts. Madame Aubain, overwhelmed by recollections, would hang her head, while the childrenwere afraid to open their mouths. Then, "Why don't you go and play?"their mother would say; and they would scamper off. Paul would go to the old barn, catch birds, throw stones into the pond, or pound the trunks of the trees with a stick till they resounded likedrums. Virginia would feed the rabbits and run to pick the wild flowersin the fields, and her flying legs would disclose her little embroideredpantalettes. One autumn evening, they struck out for home through themeadows. The new moon illumined part of the sky and a mist hovered likea veil over the sinuosities of the river. Oxen, lying in the pastures, gazed mildly at the passing persons. In the third field, however, several of them got up and surrounded them. "Don't be afraid, " criedFelicite; and murmuring a sort of lament she passed her hand over theback of the nearest ox; he turned away and the others followed. But whenthey came to the next pasture, they heard frightful bellowing. It was a bull which was hidden from them by the fog. He advanced towardsthe two women, and Madame Aubain prepared to flee for her life. "No, no! not so fast, " warned Felicite. Still they hurried on, for they couldhear the noisy breathing of the bull behind them. His hoofs pounded thegrass like hammers, and presently he began to gallop! Felicite turnedaround and threw patches of grass in his eyes. He hung his head, shookhis horns and bellowed with fury. Madame Aubain and the children, huddled at the end of the field, were trying to jump over the ditch. Felicite continued to back before the bull, blinding him with dirt, while she shouted to them to make haste. Madame Aubain finally slid into the ditch, after shoving first Virginiaand then Paul into it, and though she stumbled several times shemanaged, by dint of courage, to climb the other side of it. The bull had driven Felicite up against a fence; the foam fromhis muzzle flew in her face and in another minute he would havedisembowelled her. She had just time to slip between two bars and thehuge animal, thwarted, paused. For years, this occurrence was a topic of conversation in Pont-l'Eveque. But Felicite took no credit to herself, and probably never knew that shehad been heroic. Virginia occupied her thoughts solely, for the shock she had sustainedgave her a nervous affection, and the physician, M. Poupart, prescribedthe salt-water bathing at Trouville. In those days, Trouville wasnot greatly patronised. Madame Aubain gathered information, consultedBourais, and made preparations as if they were going on an extendedtrip. The baggage was sent the day before on Liebard's cart. On the followingmorning, he brought around two horses, one of which had a woman's saddlewith a velveteen back to it, while on the crupper of the other was arolled shawl that was to be used for a seat. Madame Aubain mounted thesecond horse, behind Liebard. Felicite took charge of the littlegirl, and Paul rode M. Lechaptois' donkey, which had been lent for theoccasion on the condition that they should be careful of it. The road was so bad that it took two hours to cover the eight miles. The two horses sank knee-deep into the mud and stumbled into ditches;sometimes they had to jump over them. In certain places, Liebard's marestopped abruptly. He waited patiently till she started again, and talkedof the people whose estates bordered the road, adding his own moralreflections to the outline of their histories. Thus, when theywere passing through Toucques, and came to some windows draped withnasturtiums, he shrugged his shoulders and said: "There's a woman, Madame Lehoussais, who, instead of taking a young man--" Felicite couldnot catch what followed; the horses began to trot, the donkey to gallop, and they turned into a lane; then a gate swung open, two farm-handsappeared and they all dismounted at the very threshold of thefarm-house. Mother Liebard, when she caught sight of her mistress, was lavish withjoyful demonstrations. She got up a lunch which comprised a leg ofmutton, tripe, sausages, a chicken fricassee, sweet cider, a fruit tartand some preserved prunes; then to all this the good woman added politeremarks about Madame, who appeared to be in better health, Mademoiselle, who had grown to be "superb, " and Paul, who had become singularlysturdy; she spoke also of their deceased grandparents, whom the Liebardshad known, for they had been in the service of the family for severalgenerations. Like its owners, the farm had an ancient appearance. The beams of theceiling were mouldy, the walls black with smoke and the windows greywith dust. The oak sideboard was filled with all sorts of utensils, plates, pitchers, tin bowls, wolf-traps. The children laughed when theysaw a huge syringe. There was not a tree in the yard that did not havemushrooms growing around its foot, or a bunch of mistletoe hanging inits branches. Several of the trees had been blown down, but they hadstarted to grow in the middle and all were laden with quantities ofapples. The thatched roofs, which were of unequal thickness, looked likebrown velvet and could resist the fiercest gales. But the wagon-shed wasfast crumbling to ruins. Madame Aubain said that she would attend to it, and then gave orders to have the horses saddled. It took another thirty minutes to reach Trouville. The little caravandismounted in order to pass Les Ecores, a cliff that overhangs the bay, and a few minutes later, at the end of the dock, they entered the yardof the Golden Lamb, an inn kept by Mother David. During the first few days, Virginia felt stronger, owing to the changeof air and the action of the sea-baths. She took them in her littlechemise, as she had no bathing suit, and afterwards her nurse dressedher in the cabin of a customs officer, which was used for that purposeby other bathers. In the afternoon, they would take the donkey and go to theRoches-Noires, near Hennequeville. The path led at first throughundulating grounds, and thence to a plateau, where pastures and tilledfields alternated. At the edge of the road, mingling with the brambles, grew holly bushes, and here and there stood large dead trees whosebranches traced zigzags upon the blue sky. Ordinarily, they rested in a field facing the ocean, with Deauville ontheir left, and Havre on their right. The sea glittered brightly in thesun and was as smooth as a mirror, and so calm that they could scarcelydistinguish its murmur; sparrows chirped joyfully and the immense canopyof heaven spread over it all. Madame Aubain brought out her sewing, and Virginia amused herself by braiding reeds; Felicite wove lavenderblossoms, while Paul was bored and wished to go home. Sometimes they crossed the Toucques in a boat, and started to hunt forsea-shells. The outgoing tide exposed star-fish and sea-urchins, and thechildren tried to catch the flakes of foam which the wind blew away. Thesleepy waves lapping the sand unfurled themselves along the shore thatextended as far as the eye could see, but where land began, it waslimited by the downs which separated it from the "Swamp, " a large meadowshaped like a hippodrome. When they went home that way, Trouville, onthe slope of a hill below, grew larger and larger as they advanced, and, with all its houses of unequal height, seemed to spread out before themin a sort of giddy confusion. When the heat was too oppressive, they remained in their rooms. Thedazzling sunlight cast bars of light between the shutters. Not a soundin the village, not a soul on the sidewalk. This silence intensified thetranquility of everything. In the distance, the hammers of some calkerspounded the hull of a ship, and the sultry breeze brought them an odourof tar. The principal diversion consisted in watching the return of thefishing-smacks. As soon as they passed the beacons, they began to plyto windward. The sails were lowered to one third of the masts, and withtheir fore-sails swelled up like balloons they glided over the waves andanchored in the middle of the harbour. Then they crept up alongside ofthe dock and the sailors threw the quivering fish over the side of theboat; a line of carts was waiting for them, and women with white capssprang forward to receive the baskets and embrace their men-folk. One day, one of them spoke to Felicite, who, after a little while, returned to the house gleefully. She had found one of her sisters, andpresently Nastasie Barette, wife of Leroux, made her appearance, holdingan infant in her arms, another child by the hand, while on her left wasa little cabin-boy with his hands in his pockets and his cap on his ear. At the end of fifteen minutes, Madame Aubain bade her go. They always hung around the kitchen, or approached Felicite when sheand the children were out walking. The husband, however, did not showhimself. Felicite developed a great fondness for them; she bought them a stove, some shirts and a blanket; it was evident that they exploited her. Her foolishness annoyed Madame Aubain, who, moreover did not like thenephew's familiarity, for he called her son "thou";--and, as Virginiabegan to cough and the season was over, she decided to return toPont-l'Eveque. Monsieur Bourais assisted her in the choice of a college. The one atCaen was considered the best. So Paul was sent away and bravely saidgood-bye to them all, for he was glad to go to live in a house where hewould have boy companions. Madame Aubain resigned herself to the separation from her son becauseit was unavoidable. Virginia brooded less and less over it. Feliciteregretted the noise he made, but soon a new occupation diverted hermind; beginning from Christmas, she accompanied the little girl to hercatechism lesson every day. CHAPTER III After she had made a curtsey at the threshold, she would walk up theaisle between the double lines of chairs, open Madame Aubain's pew, sitdown and look around. Girls and boys, the former on the right, the latter on the left-handside of the church, filled the stalls of the choir; the priest stoodbeside the reading-desk; on one stained window of the side-aisle theHoly Ghost hovered over the Virgin; on another one, Mary knelt beforethe Child Jesus, and behind the alter, a wooden group represented SaintMichael felling the dragon. The priest first read a condensed lesson of sacred history. Feliciteevoked Paradise, the Flood, the Tower of Babel, the blazing cities, the dying nations, the shattered idols; and out of this she developed agreat respect for the Almighty and a great fear of His wrath. Then, whenshe had listened to the Passion, she wept. Why had they crucified Himwho loved little children, nourished the people, made the blind see, andwho, out of humility, had wished to be born among the poor, in a stable?The sowings, the harvests, the wine-presses, all those familiar thingswhich the Scriptures mention, formed a part of her life; the word of Godsanctified them; and she loved the lambs with increased tenderness forthe sake of the Lamb, and the doves because of the Holy Ghost. She found it hard, however, to think of the latter as a person, for wasit not a bird, a flame, and sometimes only a breath? Perhaps it is itslight that at night hovers over swamps, its breath that propels theclouds, its voice that renders church-bells harmonious. And Feliciteworshipped devoutly, while enjoying the coolness and the stillness ofthe church. As for the dogma, she could not understand it and did not even try. Thepriest discoursed, the children recited, and she went to sleep, only toawaken with a start when they were leaving the church and their woodenshoes clattered on the stone pavement. In this way, she learned her catechism, her religious education havingbeen neglected in her youth; and thenceforth she imitated all Virginia'sreligious practices, fasted when she did, and went to confession withher. At the Corpus-Christi Day they both decorated an altar. She worried in advance over Virginia's first communion. She fussed aboutthe shoes, the rosary, the book and the gloves. With what nervousnessshe helped the mother dress the child! During the entire ceremony, she felt anguished. Monsieur Bourais hidpart of the choir from view, but directly in front of her, the flockof maidens, wearing white wreaths over their lowered veils, formed asnow-white field, and she recognised her darling by the slenderness ofher neck and her devout attitude. The bell tinkled. All the heads bentand there was a silence. Then, at the peals of the organ the singersand the worshippers struck up the Agnes Dei; the boys' procession began;behind them came the girls. With clasped hands, they advanced step bystep to the lighted altar, knelt at the first step, received one by onethe Host, and returned to their seats in the same order. When Virginia'sturn came, Felicite leaned forward to watch her, and through thatimagination which springs from true affection, she at once became thechild, whose face and dress became hers, whose heart beat in her bosom, and when Virginia opened her mouth and closed her lids, she did likewiseand came very near fainting. The following day, she presented herself early at the church so as toreceive communion from the cure. She took it with the proper feeling, but did not experience the same delight as on the previous day. Madame Aubain wished to make an accomplished girl of her daughter; andas Guyot could not teach English or music, she decided to send her tothe Ursulines at Honfleur. The child made no objection, but Felicite sighed and thought Madame washeartless. Then, she thought that perhaps her mistress was right, asthese things were beyond her sphere. Finally, one day, an old fiacrestopped in front of the door and a nun stepped out. Felicite putVirginia's luggage on top of the carriage, gave the coachman someinstructions, and smuggled six jars of jam, a dozen pears and a bunch ofviolets under the seat. At the last minute, Virginia had a fit of sobbing; she embraced hermother again and again, while the latter kissed her on the forehead, andsaid: "Now, be brave, be brave!" The step was pulled up and the fiacrerumbled off. Then Madame Aubain had a fainting spell, and that evening all herfriends, including the two Lormeaus, Madame Lechaptois, the ladiesRochefeuille, Messieurs de Houppeville and Bourais, called on her andtendered their sympathy. At first the separation proved very painful to her. But her daughterwrote her three times a week and the other days she, herself, wrote toVirginia. Then she walked in the garden, read a little, and in this waymanaged to fill out the emptiness of the hours. Each morning, out of habit, Felicite entered Virginia's room and gazedat the walls. She missed combing her hair, lacing her shoes, tucking herin her bed, and the bright face and little hand when they used to go outfor a walk. In order to occupy herself she tried to make lace. But herclumsy fingers broke the threads; she had no heart for anything, losther sleep and "wasted away, " as she put it. In order to have some distraction, she asked leave to receive the visitsof her nephew Victor. He would come on Sunday, after church, with ruddy cheeks and baredchest, bringing with him the scent of the country. She would set thetable and they would sit down opposite each other, and eat their dinner;she ate as little as possible, herself, to avoid any extra expense, butwould stuff him so with food that he would finally go to sleep. At thefirst stroke of vespers, she would wake him up, brush his trousers, tiehis cravat and walk to church with him, leaning on his arm with maternalpride. His parents always told him to get something out of her, either apackage of brown sugar, or soap, or brandy, and sometimes even money. He brought her his clothes to mend, and she accepted the task gladly, because it meant another visit from him. In August, his father took him on a coasting-vessel. It was vacation time and the arrival of the children consoled Felicite. But Paul was capricious, and Virginia was growing too old to bethee-and-thou'd, a fact which seemed to produce a sort of embarrassmentin their relations. Victor went successively to Morlaix, to Dunkirk, and to Brighton;whenever he returned from a trip he would bring her a present. The firsttime it was a box of shells; the second, a coffee-cup; the third, a bigdoll of ginger-bread. He was growing handsome, had a good figure, a tinymoustache, kind eyes, and a little leather cap that sat jauntily on theback of his head. He amused his aunt by telling her stories mingled withnautical expressions. One Monday, the 14th of July, 1819 (she never forgot the date), Victorannounced that he had been engaged on a merchant-vessel and that in twodays he would take the steamer at Honfleur and join his sailer, whichwas going to start from Havre very soon. Perhaps he might be away twoyears. The prospect of his departure filled Felicite with despair, and in orderto bid him farewell, on Wednesday night, after Madame's dinner, she puton her pattens and trudged the four miles that separated Pont-l'Evequefrom Honfleur. When she reached the Calvary, instead of turning to the right, sheturned to the left and lost herself in coal-yards; she had to retraceher steps; some people she spoke to advised her to hasten. She walkedhelplessly around the harbour filled with vessels, and knocked againsthawsers. Presently the ground sloped abruptly, lights flitted to andfro, and she thought all at once that she had gone mad when she saw somehorses in the sky. Others, on the edge of the dock, neighed at the sight of the ocean. Aderrick pulled them up in the air, and dumped them into a boat, wherepassengers were bustling about among barrels of cider, baskets of cheeseand bags of meal; chickens cackled, the captain swore and a cabin-boyrested on the railing, apparently indifferent to his surroundings. Felicite, who did not recognise him, kept shouting: "Victor!" Hesuddenly raised his eyes, but while she was preparing to rush up to him, they withdrew the gangplank. The packet, towed by singing women, glided out of the harbour. Her hullsqueaked and the heavy waves beat up against her sides. The sail hadturned and nobody was visible;--and on the ocean, silvered by the lightof the moon, the vessel formed a black spot that grew dimmer and dimmer, and finally disappeared. When Felicite passed the Calvary again, she felt as if she must entrustthat which was dearest to her to the Lord; and for a long while sheprayed, with uplifted eyes and a face wet with tears. The city wassleeping; some customs officials were taking the air; and the water keptpouring through the holes of the dam with a deafening roar. The townclock struck two. The parlour of the convent would not open until morning, and surely adelay would annoy Madame, so, in spite of her desire to see the otherchild, she went home. The maids of the inn were just arising when shereached Pont-l'Eveque. So the poor boy would be on the ocean for months! His previous tripshad not alarmed her. One can come back from England and Brittany; butAmerica, the colonies, the islands, were all lost in an uncertain regionat the very end of the world. From that time on, Felicite thought solely of her nephew. On warm daysshe feared he would suffer from thirst, and when it stormed, she wasafraid he would be struck by lightning. When she harkened to the windthat rattled in the chimney and dislodged the tiles on the roof, sheimagined that he was being buffeted by the same storm, perched on topof a shattered mast, with his whole body bend backward and covered withsea-foam; or, --these were recollections of the engraved geography--hewas being devoured by savages, or captured in a forest by apes, or dyingon some lonely coast. She never mentioned her anxieties, however. Madame Aubain worried about her daughter. The sisters thought that Virginia was affectionate but delicate. Theslightest emotion enervated her. She had to give up her piano lessons. Her mother insisted upon regular letters from the convent. One morning, when the postman failed to come, she grew impatient and began to pace toand fro, from her chair to the window. It was really extraordinary! Nonews since four days! In order to console her mistress by her own example, Felicite said: "Why, Madame, I haven't had any news since six months!--" "From whom?--" The servant replied gently: "Why--from my nephew. " "Oh, yes, your nephew!" And shrugging her shoulders, Madame Aubaincontinued to pace the floor as if to say: "I did not think ofit. --Besides, I do not care, a cabin-boy, a pauper!--but mydaughter--what a difference! just think of it!--" Felicite, although she had been reared roughly, was very indignant. Thenshe forgot about it. It appeared quite natural to her that one should lose one's head aboutVirginia. The two children were of equal importance; they were united in her heartand their fate was to be the same. The chemist informed her that Victor's vessel had reached Havana. He hadread the information in a newspaper. Felicite imagined that Havana was a place where people did nothingbut smoke, and that Victor walked around among negroes in a cloud oftobacco. Could a person, in case of need, return by land? How far wasit from Pont-l'Eveque? In order to learn these things, she questionedMonsieur Bourais. He reached for his map and began some explanationsconcerning longitudes, and smiled with superiority at Felicite'sbewilderment. At last, he took a pencil and pointed out an imperceptibleblack point in the scallops of an oval blotch, adding: "There it is. "She bent over the map; the maze of coloured lines hurt her eyes withoutenlightening her; and when Bourais asked her what puzzled her, sherequested him to show her the house Victor lived in. Bourais threwup his hands, sneezed, and then laughed uproariously; such ignorancedelighted his soul; but Felicite failed to understand the cause of hismirth, she whose intelligence was so limited that she perhaps expectedto see even the picture of her nephew! It was two weeks later that Liebard came into the kitchen atmarket-time, and handed her a letter from her brother-in-law. As neitherof them could read, she called upon her mistress. Madame Aubain, who was counting the stitches of her knitting, laid herwork down beside her, opened the letter, started, and in a low toneand with a searching look said: "They tell you of a--misfortune. Yournephew--" He had died. The letter told nothing more. Felicite dropped on a chair, leaned her head against the back, andclosed her lids; presently they grew pink. Then, with drooping head, inert hands and staring eyes she repeated at intervals: "Poor little chap! poor little chap!" Liebard watched her and sighed. Madame Aubain was trembling. She proposed to the girl to go to see her sister in Trouville. With a single motion, Felicite replied that it was not necessary. There was a silence. Old Liebard thought it about time for him to takeleave. Then Felicite uttered: "They have no sympathy, they do not care!" Her head fell forward again, and from time to time, mechanically, shetoyed with the long knitting-needles on the work-table. Some women passed through the yard with a basket of wet clothes. When she saw them through the window, she suddenly remembered her ownwash; as she had soaked it the day before, she must go and rinse it now. So she arose and left the room. Her tub and her board were on the bank of the Toucques. She threw a heapof clothes on the ground, rolled up her sleeves and grasped her bat;and her loud pounding could be heard in the neighbouring gardens. Themeadows were empty, the breeze wrinkled the stream, at the bottom ofwhich were long grasses that looked like the hair of corpses floatingin the water. She restrained her sorrow and was very brave until night;but, when she had gone to her own room, she gave way to it, burying herface in the pillow and pressing her two fists against her temples. A long while afterward, she learned through Victor's captain, thecircumstances which surrounded his death. At the hospital they had bledhim too much, treating him for yellow fever. Four doctors held him atone time. He died almost instantly, and the chief surgeon had said: "Here goes another one!" His parents had always treated him barbarously; she preferred not to seethem again, and they made no advances, either from forgetfulness or outof innate hardness. Virginia was growing weaker. A cough, continual fever, oppressive breathing and spots on her cheeksindicated some serious trouble. Monsieur Popart had advised a sojourn inProvence. Madame Aubain decided that they would go, and she would havehad her daughter come home at once, had it not been for the climate ofPont-l'Eveque. She made an arrangement with a livery-stable man who drove her over tothe convent every Tuesday. In the garden there was a terrace, from whichthe view extends to the Seine. Virginia walked in it, leaning on hermother's arm and treading the dead vine leaves. Sometimes the sun, shining through the clouds, made her blink her lids, when she gazed atthe sails in the distance, and let her eyes roam over the horizon fromthe chateau of Tancarville to the lighthouses of Havre. Then they restedon the arbour. Her mother had bought a little cask of fine Malaga wine, and Virginia, laughing at the idea of becoming intoxicated, would drinka few drops of it, but never more. Her strength returned. Autumn passed. Felicite began to reassure MadameAubain. But, one evening, when she returned home after an errand, shemet M. Boupart's coach in front of the door; M. Boupart himself wasstanding in the vestibule and Madame Aubain was tying the strings of herbonnet. "Give me my foot-warmer, my purse and my gloves; and be quickabout it, " she said. Virginia had congestion of the lungs; perhaps it was desperate. "Not yet, " said the physician, and both got into the carriage, while thesnow fell in thick flakes. It was almost night and very cold. Felicite rushed to the church to light a candle. Then she ran after thecoach which she overtook after an hour's chase, sprang up behind andheld on to the straps. But suddenly a thought crossed her mind: "Theyard had been left open; supposing that burglars got in!" And down shejumped. The next morning, at daybreak, she called at the doctor's. He had beenhome, but had left again. Then she waited at the inn, thinking thatstrangers might bring her a letter. At last, at daylight she took thediligence for Lisieux. The convent was at the end of a steep and narrow street. When shearrived about at the middle of it, she heard strange noises, a funeralknell. "It must be for some one else, " thought she; and she pulled theknocker violently. After several minutes had elapsed, she heard footsteps, the doorwas half opened and a nun appeared. The good sister, with an air ofcompunction, told her that "she had just passed away. " And at the sametime the tolling of Saint-Leonard's increased. Felicite reached the second floor. Already at the threshold, she caughtsight of Virginia lying on her back, with clasped hands, her mouth openand her head thrown back, beneath a black crucifix inclined toward her, and stiff curtains which were less white than her face. Madame Aubainlay at the foot of the couch, clasping it with her arms and utteringgroans of agony. The Mother Superior was standing on the right side ofthe bed. The three candles on the bureau made red blurs, and the windowswere dimmed by the fog outside. The nuns carried Madame Aubain from theroom. For two nights, Felicite never left the corpse. She would repeat thesame prayers, sprinkle holy water over the sheets, get up, come backto the bed and contemplate the body. At the end of the first vigil, shenoticed that the face had taken on a yellow tinge, the lips grew blue, the nose grew pinched, the eyes were sunken. She kissed them severaltimes and would not have been greatly astonished had Virginia openedthem; to souls like this the supernatural is always quite simple. Shewashed her, wrapped her in a shroud, put her into the casket, laid awreath of flowers on her head and arranged her curls. They were blondand of an extraordinary length for her age. Felicite cut off a big lockand put half of it into her bosom, resolving never to part with it. The body was taken to Pont-l'Eveque, according to Madame Aubain'swishes; she followed the hearse in a closed carriage. After the ceremony it took three quarters of an hour to reach thecemetery. Paul, sobbing, headed the procession; Monsieur Bouraisfollowed, and then came the principle inhabitants of the town, the womencovered with black capes, and Felicite. The memory of her nephew, andthe thought that she had not been able to render him these honours, made her doubly unhappy, and she felt as if he were being buried withVirginia. Madame Aubain's grief was uncontrollable. At first she rebelled againstGod, thinking that he was unjust to have taken away her child--she whohad never done anything wrong, and whose conscience was so pure! But no!she ought to have taken her South. Other doctors would have saved her. She accused herself, prayed to be able to join her child, and cried inthe midst of her dreams. Of the latter, one more especially haunted her. Her husband, dressed like a sailor, had come back from a long voyage, and with tears in his eyes told her that he had received the order totake Virginia away. Then they both consulted about a hiding-place. Once she came in from the garden, all upset. A moment before (and sheshowed the place), the father and daughter had appeared to her, oneafter the other; they did nothing but look at her. During several months she remained inert in her room. Felicite scoldedher gently; she must keep up for her son and also for the other one, for"her memory. " "Her memory!" replied Madame Aubain, as if she were just awakening, "Oh!yes, yes, you do not forget her!" This was an allusion to the cemeterywhere she had been expressly forbidden to go. But Felicite went there every day. At four o'clock exactly, she would gothrough the town, climb the hill, open the gate and arrive at Virginia'stomb. It was a small column of pink marble with a flat stone at itsbase, and it was surrounded by a little plot enclosed by chains. Theflower-beds were bright with blossoms. Felicite watered their leaves, renewed the gravel, and knelt on the ground in order to till the earthproperly. When Madame Aubain was able to visit the cemetery she feltvery much relieved and consoled. Years passed, all alike and marked by no other events than the returnof the great church holidays: Easter, Assumption, All Saints' Day. Household happenings constituted the only data to which in later yearsthey often referred. Thus, in 1825, workmen painted the vestibule; in1827, a portion of the roof almost killed a man by falling into theyard. In the summer of 1828, it was Madame's turn to offer the hallowedbread; at that time, Bourais disappeared mysteriously; and theold acquaintances, Guyot, Liebard, Madame Lechaptois, Robelin, oldGremanville, paralysed since a long time, passed away one by one. Onenight, the driver of the mail in Pont-l'Eveque announced the Revolutionof July. A few days afterward a new sub-prefect was nominated, the Baronde Larsonniere, ex-consul in America, who, besides his wife, had hissister-in-law and her three grown daughters with him. They were oftenseen on their lawn, dressed in loose blouses, and they had a parrotand a negro servant. Madame Aubain received a call, which she returnedpromptly. As soon as she caught sight of them, Felicite would run andnotify her mistress. But only one thing was capable of arousing her: aletter from her son. He could not follow any profession as he was absorbed in drinking. Hismother paid his debts and he made fresh ones; and the sighs that sheheaved while she knitted at the window reached the ears of Felicite whowas spinning in the kitchen. They walked in the garden together, always speaking of Virginia, andasking each other if such and such a thing would have pleased her, andwhat she would probably have said on this or that occasion. All her little belongings were put away in a closet of the room whichheld the two little beds. But Madame Aubain looked them over as littleas possible. One summer day, however, she resigned herself to the taskand when she opened the closet the moths flew out. Virginia's frocks were hung under a shelf where there were three dolls, some hoops, a doll-house, and a basic which she had used. Feliciteand Madame Aubain also took out the skirts, the handkerchiefs, and thestockings and spread them on the beds, before putting them away again. The sun fell on the piteous things, disclosing their spots and thecreases formed by the motions of the body. The atmosphere was warm andblue, and a blackbird trilled in the garden; everything seemed to livein happiness. They found a little hat of soft brown plush, but it wasentirely moth-eaten. Felicite asked for it. Their eyes met and filledwith tears; at last the mistress opened her arms and the servant threwherself against her breast and they hugged each other and giving vent totheir grief in a kiss which equalised them for a moment. It was the first time that this had ever happened, for Madame Aubain wasnot of an expansive nature. Felicite was as grateful for it as if it hadbeen some favour, and thenceforth loved her with animal-like devotionand a religious veneration. Her kind-heartedness developed. When she heard the drums of a marchingregiment passing through the street, she would stand in the doorwaywith a jug of cider and give the soldiers a drink. She nursed choleravictims. She protected Polish refugees, and one of them even declaredthat he wished to marry her. But they quarrelled, for one morning whenshe returned from the Angelus she found him in the kitchen coolly eatinga dish which he had prepared for himself during her absence. After the Polish refugees, came Colmiche, an old man who was creditedwith having committed frightful misdeeds in '93. He lived near the riverin the ruins of a pig-sty. The urchins peeped at him through the cracksin the walls and threw stones that fell on his miserable bed, where helay gasping with catarrh, with long hair, inflamed eyelids, and a tumouras big as his head on one arm. She got him some linen, tried to clean his hovel and dreamed ofinstalling him in the bake-house without his being in Madame's way. Whenthe cancer broke, she dressed it every day; sometimes she brought himsome cake and placed him in the sun on a bundle of hay; and the poor oldcreature, trembling and drooling, would thank her in his broken voice, and put out his hands whenever she left him. Finally he died; and shehad a mass said for the repose of his soul. That day a great joy came to her: at dinner-time, Madame deLarsonniere's servant called with the parrot, the cage, and the perchand chain and lock. A note from the baroness told Madame Aubain that asher husband had been promoted to a prefecture, they were leaving thatnight, and she begged her to accept the bird as a remembrance and atoken of her esteem. Since a long time the parrot had been on Felicite's mind, because hecame from America, which reminded her of Victor, and she had approachedthe negro on the subject. Once even, she had said: "How glad Madame would be to have him!" The man had repeated this remark to his mistress who, not being able tokeep the bird, took this means of getting rid of it. CHAPTER IV He was called Loulou. His body was green, his head blue, the tips of hiswings were pink and his breast was golden. But he had the tiresome tricks of biting his perch, pulling his feathersout, scattering refuse and spilling the water of his bath. Madame Aubaingrew tired of him and gave him to Felicite for good. She undertook his education, and soon he was able to repeat: "Prettyboy! Your servant, sir! I salute you, Marie!" His perch was placed nearthe door and several persons were astonished that he did not answer tothe name of "Jacquot, " for every parrot is called Jacquot. They calledhim a goose and a log, and these taunts were like so many dagger thruststo Felicite. Strange stubbornness of the bird which would not talk whenpeople watched him! Nevertheless, he sought society; for on Sunday, when the ladiesRochefeuille, Monsieur de Houppeville and the new habitues, Onfroy, thechemist, Monsieur Varin and Captain Mathieu, dropped in for their gameof cards, he struck the window-panes with his wings and made such aracket that it was impossible to talk. Bourais' face must have appeared very funny to Loulou. As soon as hesaw him he would begin to roar. His voice re-echoed in the yard, andthe neighbours would come to the windows and begin to laugh, too; andin order that the parrot might not see him, Monsieur Bourais edged alongthe wall, pushed his hat over his eyes to hide his profile, and enteredby the garden door, and the looks he gave the bird lacked affection. Loulou, having thrust his head into the butcher-boy's basket, receiveda slap, and from that time he always tried to nip his enemy. Fabuthreatened to ring his neck, although he was not cruelly inclined, notwithstanding his big whiskers and tattooings. On the contrary, herather liked the bird, and, out of devilry, tried to teach him oaths. Felicite, whom his manner alarmed, put Loulou in the kitchen, took offhis chain and let him walk all over the house. When he went downstairs, he rested his beak on the steps, lifted hisright foot and then his left one; but his mistress feared that suchfeats would give him vertigo. He became ill and was unable to eat. Therewas a small growth under his tongue like those chickens are sometimesafflicted with. Felicite pulled it off with her nails and cured him. One day, Paul was imprudent enough to blow the smoke of his cigar in hisface; another time, Madame Lormeau was teasing him with the tip of herumbrella and he swallowed the tip. Finally he got lost. She had put him on the grass to cool him and went away only for asecond; when she returned, she found no parrot! She hunted among thebushes, on the bank of the river, and on the roofs, without paying anyattention to Madame Aubain who screamed at her: "Take care! you must beinsane!" Then she searched every garden in Pont-l'Eveque and stopped thepassers-by to inquire of them: "Haven't you perhaps seen my parrot?"To those who had never seen the parrot, she described him minutely. Suddenly she thought she saw something green fluttering behind the millsat the foot of the hill. But when she was at the top of the hill shecould not see it. A hod-carrier told her that he had just seen the birdin Saint-Melaine, in Mother Simon's store. She rushed to the place. Thepeople did not know what she was talking about. At last she came home, exhausted, with her slippers worn to shreds, and despair in her heart. She sat down on the bench near Madame and was telling of her search whenpresently a light weight dropped on her shoulder--Loulou! What the deucehad he been doing? Perhaps he had just taken a little walk around thetown! She did not easily forget her scare; in fact, she never got over it. Inconsequence of a cold, she caught a sore throat; and some time latershe had an earache. Three years later she was stone deaf, and spoke ina very loud voice even in church. Although her sins might have beenproclaimed throughout the diocese without any shame to herself, or illeffects to the community, the cure thought it advisable to receive herconfession in the vestry-room. Imaginary buzzings also added to her bewilderment. Her mistress oftensaid to her: "My goodness, how stupid you are!" and she would answer:"Yes, Madame, " and look for something. The narrow circle of her ideas grew more restricted than it already was;the bellowing of the oxen, the chime of the bells no longer reached herintelligence. All things moved silently, like ghosts. Only one noisepenetrated her ears; the parrot's voice. As if to divert her mind, he reproduced for her the tick-tack of thespit in the kitchen, the shrill cry of the fish-vendors, the saw of thecarpenter who had a shop opposite, and when the door-bell rang, he wouldimitate Madame Aubain: "Felicite! go to the front door. " They held conversations together, Loulou repeating the three phrasesof his repertory over and over, Felicite replying by words that hadno greater meaning, but in which she poured out her feelings. In herisolation, the parrot was almost a son, a love. He climbed upon herfingers, pecked at her lips, clung to her shawl, and when she rocked herhead to and fro like a nurse, the big wings of her cap and the wings ofthe bird flapped in unison. When clouds gathered on the horizon and thethunder rumbled, Loulou would scream, perhaps because he remembered thestorms in his native forests. The dripping of the rain would excite himto frenzy; he flapped around, struck the ceiling with his wings, upseteverything, and would finally fly into the garden to play. Then he wouldcome back into the room, light on one of the andirons, and hop around inorder to get dry. One morning during the terrible winter of 1837, when she had put him infront of the fire-place on account of the cold, she found him dead inhis cage, hanging to the wire bars with his head down. He had probablydied of congestion. But she believed that he had been poisoned, andalthough she had no proofs whatever, her suspicion rested on Fabu. She wept so sorely that her mistress said: "Why don't you have himstuffed?" She asked the advice of the chemist, who had always been kind to thebird. He wrote to Havre for her. A certain man named Fellacher consented to dothe work. But, as the diligence driver often lost parcels entrusted tohim, Felicite resolved to take her pet to Honfleur herself. Leafless apple-trees lined the edges of the road. The ditches werecovered with ice. The dogs on the neighbouring farms barked; andFelicite, with her hands beneath her cape, her little black sabots andher basket, trotted along nimbly in the middle of the sidewalk. Shecrossed the forest, passed by the Haut-Chene, and reached Saint-Gatien. Behind her, in a cloud of dust and impelled by the steep incline, amail-coach drawn by galloping horses advanced like a whirlwind. When hesaw a woman in the middle of the road, who did not get out of theway, the driver stood up in his seat and shouted to her and so didthe postilion, while the four horses, which he could not hold back, accelerated their pace; the two leaders were almost upon her; witha jerk of the reins he threw them to one side, but, furious at theincident, he lifted his big whip and lashed her from her head to herfeet with such violence that she fell to the ground unconscious. Her first thought, when she recovered her senses, was to open thebasket. Loulou was unharmed. She felt a sting on her right cheek; whenshe took her hand away it was red, for the blood was flowing. She sat down on a pile of stones, and sopped her cheek with herhandkerchief; then she ate a crust of bread she had put in her basket, and consoled herself by looking at the bird. Arriving at the top of Ecquemanville, she saw the lights of Honfleurshining in the distance like so many stars; further on, the ocean spreadout in a confused mass. Then a weakness came over her; the misery of herchildhood, the disappointment of her first love, the departure of hernephew, the death of Virginia; all these things came back to her atonce, and, rising like a swelling tide in her throat, almost choked her. Then she wished to speak to the captain of the vessel, and withoutstating what she was sending, she gave him some instructions. Fellacher kept the parrot a long time. He always promised that it wouldbe ready for the following week; after six months he announced theshipment of a case, and that was the end of it. Really, it seemed asif Loulou would never come back to his home. "They have stolen him, "thought Felicite. Finally he arrived, sitting bold upright on a branch which could bescrewed into a mahogany pedestal, with his foot in the air, his head onone side, and in his beak a nut which the naturalist, from love of thesumptuous, had gilded. She put him in her room. This place, to which only a chosen few were admitted, looked like achapel and a second-hand shop, so filled was it with devotional andheterogeneous things. The door could not be opened easily on account ofthe presence of a large wardrobe. Opposite the window that looked outinto the garden, a bull's-eye opened on the yard; a table was placed bythe cot and held a wash-basin, two combs, and a piece of blue soap ina broken saucer. On the walls were rosaries, medals, a number of HolyVirgins, and a holy-water basin made out of a cocoanut; on the bureau, which was covered with a napkin like an altar, stood the box ofshells that Victor had given her; also a watering-can and a balloon, writing-books, the engraved geography and a pair of shoes; on thenail which held the mirror, hung Virginia's little plush hat! Felicitecarried this sort of respect so far that she even kept one of Monsieur'sold coats. All the things which Madame Aubain discarded, Felicite beggedfor her own room. Thus, she had artificial flowers on the edge of thebureau, and the picture of the Comte d'Artois in the recess of thewindow. By means of a board, Loulou was set on a portion of the chimneywhich advanced into the room. Every morning when she awoke, she sawhim in the dim light of dawn and recalled bygone days and the smallestdetails of insignificant actions, without any sense of bitterness orgrief. As she was unable to communicate with people, she lived in a sort ofsomnambulistic torpor. The processions of Corpus-Christi Day seemed towake her up. She visited the neighbours to beg for candlesticks and matsso as to adorn the temporary altars in the street. In church, she always gazed at the Holy Ghost, and noticed that therewas something about it that resembled a parrot. The likenesses appearedeven more striking on a coloured picture by Espinal, representing thebaptism of our Saviour. With his scarlet wings and emerald body, it wasreally the image of Loulou. Having bought the picture, she hung it nearthe one of the Comte d'Artois so that she could take them in at oneglance. They associated in her mind, the parrot becoming sanctified through theneighbourhood of the Holy Ghost, and the latter becoming more lifelikein her eyes, and more comprehensible. In all probability the Father hadnever chosen as messenger a dove, as the latter has no voice, but ratherone of Loulou's ancestors. And Felicite said her prayers in front of thecoloured picture, though from time to time she turned slightly towardsthe bird. She desired very much to enter in the ranks of the "Daughters of theVirgin. " But Madame Aubain dissuaded her from it. A most important event occurred: Paul's marriage. After being first a notary's clerk, then in business, then in thecustoms, and a tax collector, and having even applied for a positionin the administration of woods and forests, he had at last, when hewas thirty-six years old, by a divine inspiration, found his vocation:registrature! and he displayed such a high ability that an inspector hadoffered him his daughter and his influence. Paul, who had become quite settled, brought his bride to visit hismother. But she looked down upon the customs of Pont-l'Eveque, put on airs, andhurt Felicite's feelings. Madame Aubain felt relieved when she left. The following week they learned of Monsieur Bourais' death in an inn. There were rumours of suicide, which were confirmed; doubts concerninghis integrity arose. Madame Aubain looked over her accounts and soondiscovered his numerous embezzlements; sales of wood which had beenconcealed from her, false receipts, etc. Furthermore, he had anillegitimate child, and entertained a friendship for "a person inDozule. " These base actions affected her very much. In March, 1853, she developeda pain in her chest; her tongue looked as if it were coated with smoke, and the leeches they applied did not relieve her oppression; and on theninth evening she died, being just seventy-two years old. People thought that she was younger, because her hair, which she wore inbands framing her pale face, was brown. Few friends regretted her loss, for her manner was so haughty that she did not attract them. Felicitemourned for her as servants seldom mourn for their masters. The factthat Madame should die before herself perplexed her mind and seemedcontrary to the order of things, and absolutely monstrous andinadmissible. Ten days later (the time to journey from Besancon), theheirs arrived. Her daughter-in-law ransacked the drawers, kept some ofthe furniture, and sold the rest; then they went back to their own home. Madame's armchair, foot-warmer, work-table, the eight chairs, everythingwas gone! The places occupied by the pictures formed yellow squares onthe walls. They had taken the two little beds, and the wardrobe had beenemptied of Virginia's belongings! Felicite went upstairs, overcome withgrief. The following day a sign was posted on the door; the chemist screamed inher ear that the house was for sale. For a moment she tottered, and had to sit down. What hurt her most was to give up her room, --so nice for poor Loulou!She looked at him in despair and implored the Holy Ghost, and it wasthis way that she contracted the idolatrous habit of saying her prayerskneeling in front of the bird. Sometimes the sun fell through the windowon his glass eye, and lighted a spark in it which sent Felicite intoecstasy. Her mistress had left her an income of three hundred and eighty francs. The garden supplied her with vegetables. As for clothes, she had enoughto last her till the end of her days, and she economised on the light bygoing to bed at dusk. She rarely went out, in order to avoid passing in front of thesecond-hand dealer's shop where there was some of the old furniture. Since her fainting spell, she dragged her leg, and as her strength wasfailing rapidly, old Mother Simon, who had lost her money in the grocerybusiness, came very morning to chop the wood and pump the water. Her eyesight grew dim. She did not open the shutters after that. Manyyears passed. But the house did not sell or rent. Fearing that she wouldbe put out, Felicite did not ask for repairs. The laths of the roof wererotting away, and during one whole winter her bolster was wet. AfterEaster she spit blood. Then Mother Simon went for a doctor. Felicite wished to know what hercomplaint was. But, being too deaf to hear, she caught only one word:"Pneumonia. " She was familiar with it and gently answered:--"Ah! likeMadame, " thinking it quite natural that she should follow her mistress. The time for the altars in the street drew near. The first one was always erected at the foot of the hill, the secondin front of the post-office, and the third in the middle of the street. This position occasioned some rivalry among the women and they finallydecided upon Madame Aubain's yard. Felicite's fever grew worse. She was sorry that she could not doanything for the altar. If she could, at least, have contributedsomething towards it! Then she thought of the parrot. Her neighboursobjected that it would not be proper. But the cure gave his consentand she was so grateful for it that she begged him to accept after herdeath, her only treasure, Loulou. From Tuesday until Saturday, the daybefore the event, she coughed more frequently. In the evening her facewas contracted, her lips stuck to her gums and she began to vomit; andon the following day, she felt so low that she called for a priest. Three neighbours surrounded her when the dominie administered theExtreme Unction. Afterwards she said that she wished to speak to Fabu. He arrived in his Sunday clothes, very ill at ease among the funerealsurroundings. "Forgive me, " she said, making an effort to extend her arm, "I believedit was you who killed him!" What did such accusations mean? Suspect a man like him of murder! AndFabu became excited and was about to make trouble. "Don't you see she is not in her right mind?" From time to time Felicite spoke to shadows. The women left her andMother Simon sat down to breakfast. A little later, she took Loulou and holding him up to Felicite: "Say good-bye to him, now!" she commanded. Although he was not a corpse, he was eaten up by worms; one of his wingswas broken and the wadding was coming out of his body. But Felicite wasblind now, and she took him and laid him against her cheek. Then MotherSimon removed him in order to set him on the altar. CHAPTER V The grass exhaled an odour of summer; flies buzzed in the air, the sunshone on the river and warmed the slated roof. Old Mother Simon hadreturned to Felicite and was peacefully falling asleep. The ringing of bells woke her; the people were coming out of church. Felicite's delirium subsided. By thinking of the procession, she wasable to see it as if she had taken part in it. All the school-children, the singers and the firemen walked on the sidewalks, while in the middleof the street came first the custodian of the church with his halberd, then the beadle with a large cross, the teacher in charge of the boysand a sister escorting the little girls; three of the smallest ones, with curly heads, threw rose leaves into the air; the deacon withoutstretched arms conducted the music; and two incense-bearers turnedwith each step they took toward the Holy Sacrament, which was carried byM. Le Cure, attired in his handsome chasuble and walking under a canopyof red velvet supported by four men. A crowd of people followed, jammedbetween the walls of the houses hung with white sheets; at last theprocession arrived at the foot of the hill. A cold sweat broke out on Felicite's forehead. Mother Simon wiped itaway with a cloth, saying inwardly that some day she would have to gothrough the same thing herself. The murmur of the crowd grew louder, was very distinct for a moment andthen died away. A volley of musketry shook the window-panes. It was thepostilions saluting the Sacrament. Felicite rolled her eyes, and said asloudly as she could: "Is he all right?" meaning the parrot. Her death agony began. A rattle that grew more and more rapid shook herbody. Froth appeared at the corners of her mouth, and her whole frametrembled. In a little while could be heard the music of the basshorns, the clear voices of the children and the men's deeper notes. Atintervals all was still, and their shoes sounded like a herd of cattlepassing over the grass. The clergy appeared in the yard. Mother Simon climbed on a chair toreach the bull's-eye, and in this manner could see the altar. It wascovered with a lace cloth and draped with green wreaths. In the middlestood a little frame containing relics; at the corners were two littleorange-trees, and all along the edge were silver candlesticks, porcelainvases containing sun-flowers, lilies, peonies, and tufts of hydrangeas. This mount of bright colours descended diagonally from the first floorto the carpet that covered the sidewalk. Rare objects arrested one'seye. A golden sugar-bowl was crowned with violets, earrings set withAlencon stones were displayed on green moss, and two Chinese screenswith their bright landscapes were near by. Loulou, hidden beneathroses, showed nothing but his blue head which looked like a piece oflapis-lazuli. The singers, the canopy-bearers and the children lined up against thesides of the yard. Slowly the priest ascended the steps and placed hisshining sun on the lace cloth. Everybody knelt. There was deep silence;and the censers slipping on their chains were swung high in the air. Ablue vapour rose in Felicite's room. She opened her nostrils and inhaledwith a mystic sensuousness; then she closed her lids. Her lips smiled. The beats of her heart grew fainter and fainter, and vaguer, like afountain giving out, like an echo dying away;--and when she exhaled herlast breath, she thought she saw in the half-opened heavens a giganticparrot hovering above her head.