It was eleven o’clock.  Every now and then the sound of chanting was wafted from the church.  A confused murmur of doleful voices, a muttering of prayers could be heard amidst scraps of Latin pronounced in louder and clearer tones.

‘Come! oh, do come!’ repeated Desiree for the twentieth time.

‘I must go and toll the bell, now,’ muttered the old servant.  ’I shall never get finished really.  What is it that you want now, mademoiselle?’

But she did not wait for an answer.  She threw herself upon a swarm of fowls, who were greedily drinking the blood from the pans.  And having angrily kicked them away, and then covered up the pans, she called to Desiree: 

’It would be a great deal better if, instead of tormenting me, you only came to look after these wretched birds.  If you let them do as they like there will be no black-pudding for you.  Do you hear?’

Desiree only laughed.  What of it, if the fowls did drink a few drops of the blood?  It would fatten them.  Then she again tried to drag La Teuse off to the cow, but the old servant refused to go.

’I must go and toll the bell.  The procession will be coming out of church directly.  You know that quite well.’

At this moment the voices in the church rose yet more loudly, and a sound of steps could be distinctly heard.

‘No! no!’ insisted Desiree, dragging La Teuse towards the stable.  ’Just come and look at her, and tell me what ought to be done.’

La Teuse shrugged her shoulders.  All that the cow wanted was to be left alone and not bothered.  Then she set off towards the vestry, but, as she passed the shed, she raised a fresh cry: 

‘There! there!’ she shrieked, shaking her fist.  ‘Ah! the little wretch!’

Matthew was lying at full length on his back, with his feet in the air, under the shed, waiting to be singed.* The gash which the knife had made in his neck was still quite fresh, and was beaded with drops of blood.  And a little white hen was very delicately picking off these drops of blood one by one.

  * In some parts of France pigs, when killed, are singed, not scalded,
    as is, I think, the usual practice in England.—­ED.

‘Why, of course,’ quietly remarked Desiree, ‘she’s regaling herself.’  And the girl stooped and patted the pig’s plump belly, saying:  ’Eh! my fat fellow, you have stolen their food too often to grudge them a wee bit of your neck now!’

La Teuse hastily doffed her apron and threw it round Matthew’s neck.  Then she hurried away and disappeared within the church.  The great door had just creaked on its rusty hinges, and a burst of chanting rose in the open air amidst the quiet sunshine.  Suddenly the bell began to toll with slow and regular strokes.  Desiree, who had remained kneeling beside the pig patting his belly, raised her head to listen, while still continuing to smile.  When she saw that she was alone, having glanced cautiously around, she glided away into the cow’s stable and closed the door behind her.