and the head thought solely of Etienne Mahye. Though he wore an air of
sorrow and sympathy in public, he had no more feeling than a hangman.
His sympathy seemed to say to the living, "I wonder how soon you'll come
into my hands," and to the dead, "What a pity you can only die once--and
second-hand coffins so hard to get!"

Item: paid to me, Etienne Mahye,

droned the voice of the apprentice,

for rosewood coffin--

"O my good," interrupted the Master of Burials with a barren chuckle, and
rubbing his hands with glee, "O my good, that was a day in a lifetime!
I've done fine work in my time, but upon that day--not a cloud above,
no dust beneath, a flowing tide, and a calm sea. The Royal Court, too,
caught on a sudden marching in their robes, turns to and joins the
cortegee, and the little birds a-tweeting-tweeting, and two parsons at
the grave. Pardingue, the Lord was--with me that day, and--"

The apprentice laughed--a dry, mirthless laugh of disbelief and ridicule.
"Ba su, master, the Lord was watching you. There was two silver bits
inside that coffin, on Sieur's eyes."

"Bigre!" The Master was pale with rage. His lips drew back, disclosing
long dark teeth and sickly gums, in a grimace of fury. He reached out to
seize a hammer lying at his hand, but the apprentice said quickly:

"Sapri--that's the cholera hammer!"