-and I do live!"

[41] Jacques Rennepont being dead, and Gabriel out of the field, in
consequence of his donation, there remained only five persons of the
family--Rose and Blanche, Djalma, Adrienne, and Hardy.

CHAPTER XXXI.

VICE AND VIRTUE.

Two days have elapsed since Rodin was miraculously restored to life. The
reader will not have forgotten the house in the Rue Clovis, where the
reverend father had an apartment, and where also was the lodging of
Philemon, inhabited by Rose-Pompon. It is about three o'clock in the
afternoon. A bright ray of light, penetrating through a round hole in the
door Mother Arsene's subterraneous shop, forms a striking contrast with
the darkness of this cavern. The ray streams full upon a melancholy
object. In the midst of fagots and faded vegetables, and close to a great
heap of charcoal, stands a wretched bed; beneath the sheet, which covers
it, can be traced the stiff and angular proportions of a corpse. It is
the body of Mother Arsene herself, who died two days before, of the
cholera. The burials have been so numerous, that there has been no time
to remove her remains. The Rue Clovis is almost deserted. A mournful
silence reigns without, often broken by the sharp whistling of the north
wind. Between the squalls, one hears a sort of pattering. It is the noise
of the large rats, running to and fro across the heap of charcoal.

Suddenly, another sound is heard, and these unclean animals fly to hide
themselves in their holes. Some one is trying to force open the door,
which communicates between the shop and the passage. It offers but little
resistance, and, in a few seconds, the worn-out lock gives way, and a
woman enters. For a short time she stands motionless in the obscurity of
the damp and icy cave. After a minute's hesitation, the woman advances
and the ray of light illumines the features of the Bacchanal Queen.
Slowly, she approached the funeral couch. Since the death of Jacques, the
alteration in the countenance of Cephyse had gone on increasing.
Fearfully pale, with her fine black hair in disorder, her legs and feet
naked, she was barely covered with an old patched petticoat and a very
ragged handkerchief.

When she came near the bed, she cast a glance of almost savage assurance
at the shroud. Suddenly she drew back, with a low cry of involuntary
terror. The sheet moved with a rapid undulation, extending from the feet
to the head of the corpse. But soon the sight of a rat