Part 12 (1/2)

Charles went over to the stranger who sat by the door: ”Give me the bill.”

”You don't need our a.s.sistance, then?”

”No, thanks.”

”So much the better,” said the stranger, handing Charles a folded blue paper. Then he paid for his coffee and went.----Madame Virginie rose with a little shriek: ”Alphonse! Oh, my G.o.d! Monsieur Alphonse is ill.”

He slipped off his chair; his shoulders went up and his head fell on one side. He remained sitting on the floor, with his back against the chair.

There was a movement among those nearest; the doctor sprang over and knelt beside him. When he looked in Alphonse's face he started a little.

He took his hand as if to feel his pulse, and at the same time bent down over the gla.s.s which stood on the edge of the table.

With a movement of the arm he gave it a slight push, so that it fell on the floor and was smashed. Then he laid down the dead man's hand and bound a handkerchief round his chin.

Not till then did the others understand what had happened. ”Dead? Is he dead, doctor? Monsieur Alphonse dead?”

”Heart disease,” answered the doctor.

One came running with water, another with vinegar. Amid laughter and noise, the b.a.l.l.s could be heard cannoning on the inner billiard-table.

”Hus.h.!.+” some one whispered. ”Hus.h.!.+” was repeated; and the silence spread in wider and wider circles round the corpse, until all was quite still.

”Come and lend a hand,” said the doctor.

The dead man was lifted up; they laid him on a sofa in a corner of the room, and the nearest gasjets were put out.

Madame Virginie was still standing up; her face was chalk-white, and she held her little soft hand pressed against her breast. They carried him right past the buffet. The doctor had seized him under the back, so that his waistcoat slipped up and a piece of his fine white s.h.i.+rt appeared.

She followed with her eyes the slender, supple limbs she knew so well, and continued to stare towards the dark corner.

Most of the guests went away in silence. A couple of young men entered noisily from the street; a waiter ran towards them and said a few words.

They glanced towards the corner, b.u.t.toned their coats, and plunged out again into the fog.

The half-darkened cafe was soon empty; only some of Alphonse's nearest friends stood in a group and whispered. The doctor was talking with the proprietor, who had now appeared on the scene.

The waiters stole to and fro making great circuits to avoid the dark corner. One of them knelt and gathered up the fragments of the gla.s.s on a tray. He did his work as quietly as he could; but for all that it made too much noise.

”Let that alone until by-and-by,” said the host, softly.--Leaning against the chimney-piece, Charles looked at the dead man. He slowly tore the folded paper to pieces, while he thought of his friend--

A GOOD CONSCIENCE.

An elegant little carriage, with two sleek and well-fed horses, drew up at Advocate Abel's garden gate.

Neither silver nor any other metal was visible in the harness; everything was a dull black, and all the buckles were leather-covered.

In the lacquering of the carriage there was a trace of dark green; the cus.h.i.+ons were of a subdued dust-color; and only on close inspection could you perceive that the coverings were of the richest silk. The coachman looked like an English clergyman, in his close-b.u.t.toned black coat, with a little stand-up collar and stiff white necktie.

Mrs. Warden, who sat alone in the carriage, bent forward and laid her hand upon the ivory door-handle; then she slowly alighted, drew her long train after her, and carefully closed the carriage door.