uently, without the intervention of
the Church.

My idle curiosity framed the most complicated surmises, and as the
hearse passed me, a strange idea struck me, which was to follow it, with
the eight gentlemen. That would take up my time for an hour, at least,
and I accordingly walked with the others, with a sad look on my face,
and, on seeing this, the two last turned round in surprise, and then
spoke to each other in a low voice.

No doubt they were asking each other whether I belonged to the town, and
then they consulted the two in front of them, who stared at me in turn.
This close scrutiny annoyed me, and to put an end to it I went up to
them, and, after bowing, I said:

"I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for interrupting your conversation, but,
seeing a civil funeral, I have followed it, although I did not know the
deceased gentleman whom you are accompanying."

"It was a woman," one of them said.

I was much surprised at hearing this, and asked:

"But it is a civil funeral, is it not?"

The other gentleman, who evidently wished to tell me all about it, then
said: "Yes and no. The clergy have refused to allow us the use of the
church."

On hearing this I uttered a prolonged "A-h!" of astonishment. I could
not understand it at all, but my obliging neighbor continued:

"It is rather a long story. This young woman committed suicide, and that
is the reason why she cannot be buried with any religious ceremony. The
gentleman who is walking first, and who is crying, is her husband."

I replied with some hesitation:

"You surprise and interest me very much, monsieur. Shall I be indiscreet
if I ask you to tell me the facts of the case? If I am troubling you,
forget that I have said anything about the matter."

The gentleman took my arm familiarly.

"Not at all, not at all. Let us linger a little behind the others, and
I will tell it you, although it is a very sad story. We have plenty
of time before getting to the cemetery, the trees of which you see up
yonder, for it is a stiff pull up this hill."

And he began:

"This young woman, Madame Paul Hamot, was the daughter of a wealthy
merchant in the neighborhood, Monsieur Fontanelle. When she was a mere
child of eleven, she had a shocking adventure; a footman attacked her
and she nearly died. A terrible criminal case was the result, and the
man was sentenced to penal servitude for life.

"The little girl grew up, stigmatized by disgrace, isolated, without
any