pick and shovel, and fled. My
laughter ceased, and, half drowned in tears of anguish, I listened to
their sabots pounding along the gravel walk and on to the hard highroad,
till the noises ceased and there was, once again, universal and
awe-inspiring silence. Again the eyes and tentacles, again the yearnings
for base and shameful deeds, and again--oh, blissful interruption! the
sound of human voices--Francois and Jacques returning with a crowd of
people, all greatly excited, all talking at once.

"'I call God as my witness I heard it, and Jacques too. Isn't that so,
Jacques?' a voice, which I identified as that of Francois, shrieked. And
Jacques, doubtless as eager to be heard--for it was not once in a
lifetime anyone in his position had such an opportunity for
notoriety--as he was to come to his companion's rescue, bawled out; 'Ay!
There was no mistaking the sounds. May I never live to eat my supper
again if it was not laughter. Listen!' And everyone, at once, grew
quiet.

"Now was my opportunity--my only opportunity. A single sound, however
slight, however trivial, and I should be saved! A cry rose in my throat;
another instant and it would have escaped my lips, when a dozen
tentacles shot forward and I was silent. Despair, such as no soul
experienced more acutely, even when on the threshold of hell, now seized
me, and bid me make my last, convulsive effort. Collecting, nay, even
dragging together every atom of will-power that still remained within my
enfeebled frame, I swelled my lungs to their utmost. A kind of rusty,
vibratory movement ran through my parched tongue; my jaws creaked,
creaked and strained on their hinges, my lips puffed and assumed the
dimensions of bladders and--that was all. No sound came. A weight, soft,
sticky, pungent, and overwhelming, cloaked my brain, and spreading
weed-like, with numbing coldness, stifled the cry ere it left the
precincts of my larynx. Hope died within me--I was irretrievably lost. A
babel of voices now arose together. Francois, Jacques, the village cure,
gendarme, doctor, chambermaid, mine host and hostess, and others, whose
tones I did not recognise, clamoured to be heard. Some, foremost amongst
whom were Francois, Jacques, and a boy, were in favour of the coffin
being opened; whilst others, notably the doctor and chambermaid (who
pertly declared she had seen quite enough of my ugly face), ridiculed
the notion and said the sooner I was buried the better it would be. The