rmers,
with their families, came hither to hear mass, without having any
occasion to go to the city.

Behind the chapel extended, surrounded by two high hedges of
nut-trees, elders, white thorns and a deep ditch, the little
inclosure--uncultivated, it is true, but gay in its sterility; because
the mosses there were high, because the wild heliotropes and ravenelles
there mixed their perfumes, because beneath the tall chestnuts issued a
large spring, a prisoner in a cistern of marble, and that upon the thyme
all around alighted thousands of bees from the neighboring plains, while
chaffinches and redthroats sang cheerfully among the flowers of the
hedge. It was to this place the two coffins were brought, attended by a
silent and respectful crowd. The office of the dead being celebrated,
the last adieux paid to the noble departed, the assembly dispersed,
talking, along the roads, of the virtues and mild death of the father,
of the hopes the son had given, and of his melancholy end upon the
coast of Africa.

By little and little, all noises were extinguished, like the lamps
illumining the humble nave. The minister bowed for a last time to the
altar and the still fresh graves, then, followed by his assistant, who
rang a hoarse bell, he slowly took the road back to the presbytery.
D'Artagnan, left alone, perceived that night was coming on. He had
forgotten the hour, while thinking of the dead. He arose from the oaken
bench on which he was seated in the chapel, and wished, as the priest
had done, to go and bid a last adieu to the double grave which contained
his two lost friends.

A woman was praying, kneeling on the moist earth. D'Artagnan stopped at
the door of the chapel, to avoid disturbing this woman; and also to
endeavor to see who was the pious friend who performed this sacred duty
with so much zeal and perseverance. The unknown concealed her face in
her hands, which were white as alabaster. From the noble simplicity of
her costume, she must be a woman of distinction. Outside the inclosure
were several horses mounted by servants, and a traveling carriage
waiting for this lady. D'Artagnan in vain sought to make out what caused
her delay. She continued praying, she frequently passed her handkerchief
over her face, by which D'Artagnan perceived she was weeping. He saw her
strike her breast with the pitiless compunction of a Christian woman. He
heard her several times proffer, as if from a wounded heart: "Pardon!
pardon!