they were all dressed alike, and trooped along in boarding-school fashion, the eldest first, the youngest last; and their skirts stood out to such an extent that they quite filled one corner of the room.  But on little Mademoiselle Guiraud’s entry the whispering voices rose to a higher key; the others laughed and crowded round to see her and kiss her.  She was like some white turtle-dove with its downy feathers ruffled.  Wrapped in rustling gauze, she looked as round as a barrel, but still no heavier than a bird.  Her mother even could not find her hands.  By degrees the drawing-room seemed to be filling with a cloud of snowballs.  Several boys, in their black coats, were like dark spots amidst the universal white.  Lucien, now that his little wife was dead, desired to choose another.  However, he displayed the greatest hesitation.  He would have preferred a wife like Jeanne, taller than himself; but at last he settled on Marguerite, whose hair fascinated him, and to whom he attached himself for the day.

“The corpse hasn’t been brought down yet,” Pauline muttered at this moment in Juliette’s ear.

Pauline was as flurried as though the preliminaries of a ball were in hand.  It was with the greatest difficulty that her sister had prevented her from donning a white dress for the ceremony.

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Juliette; “what are they dreaming about?  I must run up.  Stay with these ladies.”

She hastily left the room, where the mothers in their mourning attire sat chatting in whispers, while the children dared not make the least movement lest they should rumple their dresses.  When she had reached the top of the staircase and entered the chamber where the body lay, Juliette’s blood was chilled by the intense cold.  Jeanne still lay on the bed, with clasped hands; and, like Marguerite and the Levasseur girls, she was arrayed in a white dress, white cap, and white shoes.  A wreath of white roses crowned the cap, as though she were a little queen about to be honored by the crowd of guests who were waiting below.  In front of the window, on two chairs, was the oak coffin lined with satin, looking like some huge jewel casket.  The furniture was all in order; a wax taper was burning; the room seemed close and gloomy, with the damp smell and stillness of a vault which has been walled up for many years.  Thus Juliette, fresh from the sunshine and smiling life of the outer world, came to a sudden halt, stricken dumb, without the courage to explain that they must needs hurry.

“A great many people have come,” she stammered at last.  And then, as no answer was forthcoming, she added, just for the sake of saying something:  “Henri has been forced to attend a consultation at Versailles; you will excuse him.”