manner so majestic, that M. Casimir was silenced. Then, pointing to the
door, she coldly added: "Go for the justice of the peace, and don't set
foot here again, except in his company."

He bowed, stammered an unintelligible apology, and left the room. "She
always gets the best of me," he growled, as he went downstairs. "But
seals shall be put on everything."

When he entered the porter's lodge, M. Bourigeau was just getting up,
having slept all night, while his wife watched. "Quick," ordered M.
Casimir; "make haste and finish dressing, and run for the justice of the
peace--we must have him here at once. Everything must be done regularly
and in order, upstairs."

The concierge was in despair. "Heavens!" he exclaimed; "so the master's
dead! What a misfortune!"

"You may well say so; and this is the second time such a thing has
happened to me. I remember now what a shrewd fellow named Chupin once
said to me. 'If I were a servant,' he remarked, 'before entering a man's
service, I'd make him insure his life for my benefit in one of those
new-fangled companies, so that I might step into a handsome fortune if
he took it into his head to die.' But make haste, Bourigeau."

"That's a famous idea, but scarcely practicable," growled the concierge.

"I don't know whether it is or not. But at all events I'm terribly
annoyed. The count was giving me enormous wages, and I had got him
nicely into my ways. Well, after all, I shall only have to begin again!"

M. Bourigeau had not yet attained to the heights of such serene
philosophy, and as he buttoned his overcoat, he groaned: "Ah! you're not
situated as I am, Casimir. You've only yourself to look out for. I have
my furniture; and if I don't succeed in finding a position where I can
have two rooms, I shall be obliged to sell part of it. What a blessed
nuisance!"

As soon as he was dressed he started off on his mission; and M. Casimir,
who dared not return to the house, began walking slowly to and fro
in front of the lodge. He had made some thirty turns or so, and was
beginning to feel impatient, when he saw Victor Chupin approaching. "You
are always on hand at the right moment," remarked M. Casimir. "It's all
over!"

Chupin turned eagerly. "Then our bargain holds?" he exclaimed. "You
understand what I mean--the funeral, you know."

"It isn't certain that I shall have anything to do with it; but call
again in three hours from now."

"All right, I'll be here."

"And M. Fortu