she should play Mary Magdalene, for--"

"Look--look, what's that?" said the saddler. He pointed to a wagon
coming slowly up the road. In front of it a team of dogs drew a cart.
It carried some thing covered with black. "It's a funeral! There's the
coffin. It's on Jo Portugais' little cart," added Filion Lacasse.

"Ah, God be merciful, it's Rosalie Evanturel and Mrs. Flynn! And M'sieu'
Evanturel in the coffin!" said Madame Dauphin, running to the door of
the postoffice to call the Cure's sister.

"There'll be use enough for the baker's Dead March now," remarked M.
Dauphin sadly, buttoning up his coat, taking off his hat, and going
forward to greet Rosalie. As he did so, Charley appeared in the doorway
of his shop.

"Look, Monsieur," said the Notary. "This is the way Rosalie Evanturel
comes home with her father."

"I will go for the Cure" Charley answered, turning white. He leaned
against the doorway for a moment to steady himself, then hurried up the
street. He did not dare meet Rosalie, or go near her yet. For her sake
it was better not.

"That tailor infidel has a heart. His eyes were leaking," said the
Notary to Filion Lacasse, and went on to meet the mournful cavalcade.