No, Martha, stay here....  Sit beside your sister, on this old stone bench, against the wall of the house, and do not look....  You are too young; you never could forget....  You cannot know what a face is like at the moment when death passes before its eyes....  There will be cries, perhaps....  Do not turn round....  Perhaps there will be nothing....  Above all, do not turn if you hear nothing....  One does not know the course of grief beforehand....  A few little deep-rooted sobs, and that is all, usually....  I do not know myself what I may do when I shall hear them....  That belongs no longer to this life....  Kiss me, my child, before I go away....

    [The murmur of prayers has gradually drawn nearer.  Part of the
    crowd invades the garden.  Dull steps heard, running, and low
    voices speaking.]

THE STRANGER (to the crowd).

Stay here;... do not go near the windows....  Where is she?...

A PEASANT.

Who?

THE STRANGER.

The rest ... the bearers?...

THE PEASANT.

They are coming by the walk that leads to the door.

    [The old man goes away.  Martha and Mary are seated on the bench,
    with their backs turned to the windows.  Murmurs in the crowd.]

THE STRANGER.

S—­t!...  Do not speak.

[The elder of the two sisters rises and goes to bolt the door....]

MARTHA.

She opens it?

THE STRANGER.

On the contrary, she is shutting it.
          
                                                    [A silence.

MARTHA.

Grandfather has not entered?

THE STRANGER.

No....  She returns and sits down by her mother....  The others do not
stir, and the child sleeps all the time....
          
                                                    [A silence.

MARTHA.

Sister, give me your hands....

MARY.

Martha!...
                                [They embrace and give each other a kiss.

THE STRANGER.

He must have knocked....  They have all raised their heads at the same time;... they look at each other....

MARTHA.

Oh! oh! my poor little sister!...  I shall cry too!...
                          [She stifles her sobs on her sister’s shoulder.

THE STRANGER.

He must be knocking again....  The father looks at the clock.  He rises.

MARTHA.

Sister, sister, I want to go in too....  They cannot be alone any longer....

MARY.

Martha!  Martha!...
          
                                           [She holds her back.

THE STRANGER.

The father is at the door....  He draws the bolts....  He opens the door prudently....

MARTHA.

Oh!... you do not see the...