Same day.


I found Madame de Gabry dressed in black, just buttoning her gloves.

"I am ready," she said.

Ready!--so I have always found her upon any occasion of doing a
kindness.

After some compliments about the good health of her husband, who was
taking a walk at the time, we descended the stairs and got into the
carriage.

I do not know what secret influence I feared to dissipate by breaking
silence, but we followed the great deserted drives without speaking,
looking at the crosses, the monumental columns, and the mortuary
wreaths awaiting sad purchasers.

The vehicle at last halted at the extreme verge of the land of the
living, before the gate upon which words of hope are graven.

"Follow me," said Madame de Gabry, whose tall stature I noticed then
for the first time. She first walked down an alley of cypresses,
and then took a very narrow path contrived between the tombs.
Finally, halting before a plain slab, she said to me,

"It is here."