"Ah, ah!" exclaimed Planchet, "if I am not mistaken, we are going to have
a representation now, for I think I heard something like chanting."

"Yes," said D'Artagnan, "I hear singing too."

"Oh, it is only a burial of a very poor description," said Planchet,
disdainfully; "the officiating priest, the beadle, and only one chorister
boy, nothing more. You observe, messieurs, that the defunct lady or
gentleman could not have been of very high rank."

"No; no one seems to be following the coffin."

"Yes," said Porthos; "I see a man."

"You are right; a man wrapped in a cloak," said D'Artagnan.

"It's not worth looking at," said Planchet.

"I find it interesting," said D'Artagnan, leaning on the window-sill.

"Come, come, you are beginning to take a fancy to the place already,"
said Planchet, delightedly; "it is exactly my own case. I was so
melancholy at first that I could do nothing but make the sign of the
cross all day, and the chants were like so many nails being driven into
my head; but now, they lull me to sleep, and no bird I have ever seen or
heard can sing better than those which are to be met with in this
cemetery."

"Well," said Porthos, "this is beginning to get a little dull for me, and
I prefer going downstairs."