Then, all at once, even as the coffin descended, supported by the cords, whose knots made it strain and creak, a tremendous uproar arose in the poultry-yard on the other side of the wall.  The goat began to bleat.  The ducks, the geese, and the turkeys raised their loudest calls and flapped their wings.  The fowls all cackled at once.  The yellow cock, Alexander, crowed forth his trumpet notes.  The rabbits could even be heard leaping in their hutches and shaking their wooden floors.  And, above all this lifeful uproar of the animal creation, a loud laugh rang out.  There was a rustling of skirts.  Desiree, with her hair streaming, her arms bare to the elbows, and her face crimson with triumph, burst into sight, her hands resting upon the coping of the wall.  She had doubtless climbed upon the manure-heap.

‘Serge!  Serge!’ she cried.

At that moment Albine’s coffin had reached the bottom of the grave.  The cords had just been withdrawn.  One of the peasants was throwing the first shovelful of earth into the cavity.

‘Serge!  Serge!’ Desiree cried, still more loudly, clapping her hands, ‘the cow has got a calf!’

THE END