looked to see what
the effect was, and were both delighted with it and agreed that nothing
could be better. Then they retired, she blew out the candle, and soon
everybody in the house was asleep.

It was broad daylight when Caravan opened his eyes again. His mind was
rather confused when he woke up, and he did not clearly remember what
had happened for a few minutes; when he did, he felt a weight at his
heart, and jumped out of bed, almost ready to cry again.

He hastened to the room overhead, where Rosalie was still sleeping in
the same position as the night before, not having awakened once. He
sent her to do her work, put fresh tapers in the place of those that
had burnt out, and then he looked at his mother, revolving in his brain
those apparently profound thoughts, those religious and philosophical
commonplaces which trouble people of mediocre intelligence in the
presence of death.

But, as his wife was calling him, he went downstairs. She had written
out a list of what had to be done during the morning, and he was
horrified when he saw the memorandum:

1. Report the death at the mayor's office. 2. See the doctor who had
attended her. 3. Order the coffin. 4. Give notice at the church. 5. Go
to the undertaker. 6. Order the notices of her death at the printer's.
7. Go to the lawyer. 8. Telegraph the news to all the family.

Besides all this, there were a number of small commissions; so he took
his hat and went out. As the news had spread abroad, Madame Caravan's
female friends and neighbors soon began to come in and begged to be
allowed to see the body. There had been a scene between husband and
wife at the hairdresser's on the ground floor about the matter, while
a customer was being shaved. The wife, who was knitting steadily, said:
"Well, there is one less, and as great a miser as one ever meets with. I
certainly did not care for her; but, nevertheless, I must go and have a
look at her."

The husband, while lathering his patient's chin, said: "That is another
queer fancy! Nobody but a woman would think of such a thing. It is not
enough for them to worry you during life, but they cannot even leave you
at peace when you are dead:" But his wife, without being in the least
disconcerted, replied: "The feeling is stronger than I am, and I must
go. It has been on me since the morning. If I were not to see her, I
should think about it all my life; but when I have had a good look at
her, I shall be satisfied."

Th