e.' Even a humble natural joy like that he had never known; he
must needs envy even Teyssedre. Absolutely alone, with no refuge, no
breast on which to weep, he realised that 'that woman' was right, and
'the trunk had better be packed for good and all, Leonard.'

In the morning some policemen found on a bench on the Pont des Arts
a wide-brimmed hat, one of those hats which preserve something of the
expression of their owner. Inside was a large gold watch and a visiting
card--'Leonard Astier-Rehu, Permanent Secretary of the Academie
Francaise.' Right across the line of print had been written in pencil
the words, 'I die here of my own will.' Of his own will indeed it was!
Even better than the little phrase in the large, firm handwriting did
the expression of his features--the set teeth, the projection of
the lower jaw--declare his fixed determination to die, when after a
morning's search the dredgers found the body caught in the wide meshes
of an iron net surrounding some baths for women, quite close to the
bridge.

[Illustration: The dredgers found the body 342]

It was taken first to the emergency-station, where Picheral came to
identify it, a strange sight himself, as he fluttered along the wide
bank, with bare bald head and in a frock coat. It was not the first time
that a Permanent Secretary had been taken out of the Seine; the same
thing had occurred in the time of Picheral's father, under very similar
circumstances. And Picheral the son did not seem much affected, only
annoyed that he could not wait till the evening to carry Astier-Rehu
home. But it was necessary to take advantage of the absence of Madame
Astier (who was breakfasting with her son) so as to spare her too great
a shock.

The clock of the Palais Mazarin was striking one, when with the heavy
tramp of the bearers the stretcher from the station was brought under
the archway, marking its road with ominous splashes of water. At the
foot of Staircase B there was a halt to take breath. Over the dazzling
court was a great sharp-lined square of blue sky. The covering of the
stretcher had been raised, and the features of Leonard Astier-Rehu were
visible for the last time to his colleagues on the Dictionary Committee,
who had just broken up their meeting in sign of mourning. They stood
round, with their hats off, not a little shocked. Other people also
stopped to see what it was, workmen, clerks, and apprentices, for the
Institute serves as a passage from the