hing but water, she felt her head rather confused.

By-and-bye, Chenet began to relate stories of deaths, that appeared funny
to him. In that suburb of Paris, that is full of people from the
provinces, one meets with that indifference towards death were it even
a father or mother, which all peasants show; that want of respect, that
unconscious ferociousness which is so common in the country, and so rare
in Paris, and he said:

"Why, I was sent for last week to the _Rue du Puteaux_, and when I went,
I found the sick person (and there was the whole family calmly sitting
near the bed) finishing a bottle of liquor of aniseed, which had been
bought the night before to satisfy the dying man's fancy."

But Madame Caravan was not listening; she was continually thinking of the
inheritance, and Caravan was incapable of understanding anything.

Soon coffee was served, which had been made very strong, and as every cup
was well qualified with cognac, it made all their faces red, and confused
their ideas still more; to make matters still worse, Chenet suddenly
seized the brandy bottle and poured out "a drop just to wash their mouths
out with," as he termed it, for each of them, and then, without speaking
any more, overcome in spite of themselves, by that feeling of animal
comfort which alcohol affords after dinner, they slowly sipped the sweet
cognac, which formed a yellowish syrup at the bottom of their cups.

The children had gone to sleep, and Rosalie carried them off to bed, and
then, Caravan, mechanically obeying that wish to forget oneself which
possesses all unhappy persons, helped himself to brandy again several
times, and his dull eyes grew bright. At last the doctor rose to go, and
seizing his friend's arm, he said:

"Come with me; a little fresh air will do you good. When one is in
trouble, one must not stick to one spot."

The other obeyed mechanically, put on his hat, took his stick, and went
out, and both of them went arm-in-arm towards the Seine, in the starlight
night.

The air was warm and sweet, for all the gardens in the neighborhood were
full of flowers at that season of the year, and their scent, which is
scarcely perceptible during the day, seemed to awaken at the approach
of night, and mingled with the light breezes which blew upon them in the
darkness.

The broad avenue, with its two rows of gaslamps, that extended as far as
the _Arc de Triomphe_, was deserted and silent, but there was the distant
ro