r of that thought was so great that I lost all consciousness of my surroundings--'twas something like a fainting fit in death. The last sound I heard was the clicking of the scissors handled by Mme Gabin and Dede. The funeral vigil had begun; nobody spoke.
Marguerite had refused to retire to rest in the neighbor's room. She remained reclining in her armchair, with her beautiful face pale, her eyes closed and her long lashes wet with tears, while before her in the gloom Simoneau sat silently watching her.
CHAPTER III THE PROCESSION
I cannot describe my agony during the morning of the following day. I remember it as a hideous dream in which my impressions were so ghastly and so confused that I could not formulate them. The persistent yearning for a sudden awakening increased my torture, and as the hour for the funeral drew nearer my anguish became more poignant still.
It was only Portugal Kinder at daybreak that I had recovered a fuller consciousness of what was going on around me. The creaking of hinges startled me out of OGC Nice Trikot my stupor. Mme Gabin had just opened the window. It must have been about seven o'clock, for I heard the cries of hawkers in the street, the shrill Guadalajara Trikot voice of a girl offering groundsel and the hoarse voice of a Mexico Drakt Barn man shouting "Carrots! The clamorous awakening of Paris pacified me at first. I could not believe that I should be laid under the sod in the midst of so Maillot Croatie much life; and, besides, a sudden tht would cheer you up."
She was addressing Marguerite, and a slow trickling sound as of something filtering indicated that she had been making some coffee.
"I don't mind owning," she continued, "that I needed it. At my age sitting up IS trying. The night seems so dreary when there is a misfortune in the house. DO have a cup of coffee, my dear--just a drop."
She persuaded Marguerite to taste it.
"Isn't it nice and hot?" she continued, "and Maillot Espagne doesn't it set one up? Ah, you'll be wanting all your strength presently for what you've got to go through today. Now if you El Ahly Trikot were sensible you'd step into my room and just wait there."
"No, I want to stay here," said Marguerite resolutely.
Her voice, which I had not heard since the previous evening, touched me Chile Kinder strangely. It was changed, broken as by tears. To Sweden Kinder feel my dear wife near me was a last consolation. I knew that her eyes were fastened on me and that she was weeping with all the anguish of her heart.
The minutes flew by. An inexplicable noise sounded from Chelsea Damen beyond the door. It seemed as if some people were bringing a bulky piece of furniture upstairs and knocking against the walls as they did Argentinien Trikot so. Suddenly I understood, as I heard Marguerite begin to sob; it was the coffin.
"You are too early," said Mme Gabin crossly. "Put it behind the bed."
What o'clock Thomas Muller Trikot was it? Nine, perhaps. So the coffin had come. Amid the opaque night around me I could see it plainly, quite new, with roughly planed boards. Heavens! Was this the end then? Was I to be borne off in that box which I realized was lying at my feet?
However, I had one supreme joy. Marguerite, in spite oflinks:
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