A
child lies asleep with his head under the mother's left arm.
Whenever one of them rises, walks, or makes a gesture, his
movements seem to be grave, slow, rare, and, as it were,
spiritualized by the distance, the light, and the vague veil
of the windows. The old man and the stranger enter the garden
cautiously.]

THE OLD MAN.

We are in the part of the garden behind the house. They never come
here. The doors are on the other side.--They are closed, and the
shutters are up. But there are no shutters on this side, and I saw
a light.... Yes; they are sitting up still under the lamp. It is
fortunate they have not heard us; the mother or the young girls would
have come out, perhaps, and then what should we have done?...

THE STRANGER.

What are we going to do?

THE OLD MAN.

I should like to see, first, if they are all in the room. Yes, I see
the father sitting in the chimney-corner. He waits, with his hands on
his knees;... the mother is resting her elbow on the table.

THE STRANGER.

She is looking at us....

THE OLD MAN.

No; she doesn't know where she is looking: her eyes do not wink. She
cannot see us; we are in the shade of great trees. But do not go any
nearer.... The two sisters of the dead girl are in the room too. They
are embroidering slowly; and the little child is asleep. It is nine
by the clock in the corner.... They suspect nothing, and they do not
speak.

THE STRANGER.

If one could draw the father's attention, and make him some sign? He
has turned his head this way. Would you like me to knock at one of the
windows? One of them ought to be told before the others....

THE OLD MAN.

I don't know which one to choose.... We must take great
precautions.... The father is old and ailing.... So is the mother; and
the sisters are too young.... And they all loved her with such love as
will never be again.... I never saw a happier household.... No, no, do
not go near the window; that would be worse than anything else....
It is better to announce it as simply as possible,--as if it were an
ordinary event,--and not to look too sad; for otherwise their grief
will wish to be greater than yours and will know of nothing more that
it can do.... Let us go on the other side of the garden. We will knock
at the door and go in as if nothing had happened. I will go in first:
they will not be surprised to see me; I come sometimes in the evening,
to bring them flowers or fruit, and pas