shall at least not suffer actual want, and although I daresay that money
is a poor compensation for a lost or crippled husband and father, or son
and brother, still it is the only possible consolation we can offer
them, and in providing for their own future and that of their
dependents, we at least relieve their hearts of one burden. Of this my
husband wants to talk to the government official. The priest was invited
by me, and I want him to hold a requiem for the souls of those who
perished, and to superintend the erection of a memorial chapel at the
place of the terrible accident. Mr. Dumany is ungrudging in his charity,
and ready for any sacrifice of money; but, you see, we know really
nothing about the particulars. How many were lost, and how many died
afterward in consequence of their injuries? Who were they? Of what
nation, faith, quality, and circumstances? How many were saved, and in
what condition? Have they somebody to attend to them, to support them in
case of need? And then those belonging to ourselves, our dutiful
servants, I might call them our true and faithful friends, has not one
of them escaped? Have they all perished together? You can tell me best,
and therefore I made bold to call you to me. Do not hesitate, pray, but
tell me all that happened, and in what manner it happened, from the
dreadful beginning to the pitiful end--the whole catastrophe, with all
the particulars you can recall to memory."

"Madam," said I, "pray do not wish that. These particulars are much too
dreadful to relate--much too horrible for the ear of a lady. It requires
strong nerves and an iron heart to listen to such a tale as that."

"And what that?" she replied. "True, my nerves are not a bit less
sensitive than those of any other woman, but I have learned to suppress
them--to hold them down. Never fear me! Never spare me! If the scourge
hurts me, I shall think it a penance. Go on! You hold the