own by hand of man." He was warmed
to his text. Habit had long made him so much hypocrite, that he was
sentimentalist and hard materialist in one. "Some pend'loque has brought
her beauty to this pass, but she must suffer--and also his time will
come, the sulphur, the torment, the worm that dieth not--and no Abraham
for parched tongue--misery me! They that meet in sin here shall meet
hereafter in burning fiery furnace."

The cackle of the apprentice rose above the whining voice. "Murder,
too--don't forget the murder, master. The Connetable told the old Sieur
de Mauprat what people were blabbing, and in half-hour dead he is--he."

"Et ben, the Sieur's blood it is upon their heads," continued the Master
of Burials; "it will rise up from the ground--"

The apprentice interrupted. "A good thing if the Sieur himself doesn't
rise, for you'd get naught for coffin or obs'quies. It was you tells the
Connetable what folks babbled, and the Connetable tells the Sieur,
and the Sieur it kills him dead. So if he rised, he'd not pay you for
murdering him--no, bidemme! And 'tis a gobbly mouthful--this," he added,
holding up the bill.

The undertaker's lips smacked softly, as though in truth he were waiting
for the mouthful. Rubbing his hands, and drawing his lean leg up till
it touched his nose, he looked over it with avid eyes, and said: "How
much--don't read the items, but come to total debit--how much she pays
me?"

Ma'm'selle Landresse, debtor in all for one hundred and twenty livres,
eleven sols and two farthings.

"Shan't you make it one hundred and twenty-one livres?" added the
apprentice.

"God forbid, the odd sols and farthings are mine--no more!" returned the
Master of Burials. "Also they look exact; but the courage it needs to be
honest! O my grief, if--"

"'Sh!" said the apprentice, pointing, and the Master of Burials,
turning, saw Guida pass the window. With a hungry instinct for the
morbid they stole to the doorway and looked down the Rue d'Driere after
her. The Master was sympathetic, for had he not in his fingers at
that moment a bill for a hundred and twenty livres odd? The way the
apprentice craned his neck, and tightened the forehead over his large,
protuberant eyes, showed his intense curiosity, but the face was
implacable. It was like that of some strong fate, superior to all
influences of sorrow, shame, or death. Presently he laughed--a crackling
cackle like new-lighted kindling wood; nothing could have be