suffering, grief, misery; her eyes, red with weeping, were fixed on her
sister with an expression of mournful tenderness.

"I have what we want, sister," said Cephyse, in a low, deep voice; "in
this basket there is wherewith to finish our misery."

Then, showing to Mother Bunch the articles she had just placed on the
floor, she added: "For the first time in my life, I have been a thief. It
made me ashamed and frightened; I was never intended for that or worse.
It is a pity." added she, with a sardonic smile.

After a moment's silence, the hunchback said to her sister, in a heart
rending tone: "Cephyse--my dear Cephyse--are you quite determined to
die?"

"How should I hesitate?" answered Cephyse, in a firm voice. "Come,
sister, let us once more make our reckoning. If even I could forget my
shame, and Jacques' contempt in his last moments, what would remain to
me? Two courses only: first, to be honest, and work for my living. But
you know that, in spite of the best will in the world, work will often
fail, as it has failed for the last few days, and, even when I got it, I
would have to live on four to five francs a week. Live? that is to say,
die by inches. I know that already, and I prefer dying at once. The other
course would be to live a life of infamy--and that I will not do.
Frankly, sister, between frightful misery, infamy, or death, can the
choice be doubtful? Answer me!"

Then, without giving Mother Bunch time to speak, Cephyse added, in an
abrupt tone: "Besides, what is the good of discussing it? I have made up
my mind, and nothing shall prevent my purpose, since all that you, dear
sister, could obtain from me, was a delay of a few days, to see if the
cholera would not save us the trouble. To please you I consented; the
cholera has come, killed every one else in the house, but left us. You
see, it is better to do one's own business," added she, again smiling
bitterly. Then she resumed: "Besides, dear sister, you also wish to
finish with life."

"It is true, Cephyse," answered the sempstress, who seemed very much
depressed; "but alone--one has only to answer for one's self--and to die
with you," added she, shuddering, "appears like being an accomplice in
your death."

"Do you wish, then, to make an end of it, I in one place, you in
another?--that would be agreeable!" said Cephyse, displaying in that
terrible moment the sort of bitter and despairing irony which is more
frequent than may be imagined in the m