th insults, and though he wiped the tears from his eyes that
he might see where to guide his horse, he ever angrily drove his gig
over heaps of stones, as if hoping that he would overturn himself and
break one of his limbs. However, when he reached the long lane that
skirted the endless wall of the park, a glimmer of hope broke upon him.
Perhaps Albine was only in a dead faint. The peasant had told him that
she had suffocated herself with flowers. Ah! if he could only get there
in time, if he could only save her! And he lashed his horse ferociously
as though he were lashing himself.

It was a lovely day. The pavilion was all bathed in sunlight, just as
it had been in the fair spring-time. But the leaves of the ivy which
mounted to the roof were spotted and patched with rust, and bees
no longer buzzed round the tall gilliflowers. Doctor Pascal hastily
tethered his horse and pushed open the gate of the little garden. All
around still prevailed that perfect silence amidst which Jeanbernat
had been wont to smoke his pipe; but, to-day, the old man was no longer
seated on his bench watching his lettuces.

'Jeanbernat!' called the doctor.

No one answered. Then, on entering the vestibule, he saw something that
he had never seen before. At the end of the passage, below the dark
staircase, was a door opening into the Paradou, and he could see the
vast garden spreading there beneath the pale sunlight, with all its
autumn melancholy, its sere and yellow foliage. The doctor hurried
through the doorway and took a few steps over the damp grass.

'Ah! it is you, doctor!' said Jeanbernat in a calm voice.

The old man was digging a hole at the foot of a mulberry-tree. He had
straightened his tall figure on hearing the approach of footsteps.
But he promptly betook himself to his task again, throwing out at each
effort a huge mass of rich soil.

'What are you doing there?' asked Doctor Pascal.

Jeanbernat straightened himself again and wiped the sweat off his
face with the sleeve of his jacket. 'I am digging a hole,' he answered
simply. 'She always loved the garden, and it will please her to sleep
here.'

The doctor nearly choked with emotion. For a moment he stood by the
edge of the grave, incapable of speaking, but watching Jeanbernat as the
other sturdily dug on.

'Where is she?' he asked at last.

'Up there, in her room. I left her on the bed. I should like you to
go and listen to her heart before she is put away in here.