ferragus-第28章

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icy　brow　of　the　woman　he　had　tacitly　made　his　sister。

All　was　silence。　Here　death　was　neither　terrible　as　in　the　churches；
nor　pompous　as　it　makes　its　way　along　the　streets；　no；　it　was　death　in
the　home；　a　tender　death；　here　were　pomps　of　the　heart；　tears　drawn
from　the　eyes　of　all。　Jules　sat　down　beside　Jacquet　and　pressed　his
hand；　then；　without　uttering　a　word；　all　these　persons　remained　as
they　were　till　morning。

When　daylight　paled　the　tapers；　Jacquet；　foreseeing　the　painful　scenes
which　would　then　take　place；　drew　Jules　away　into　another　room。　At
this　moment　the　husband　looked　at　the　father；　and　Ferragus　looked　at
Jules。　The　two　sorrows　arraigned　each　other；　measured　each　other；　and
comprehended　each　other　in　that　look。　A　flash　of　fury　shone　for　an
instant　in　the　eyes　of　Ferragus。

〃You　killed　her；〃　thought　he。

〃Why　was　I　distrusted？〃　seemed　the　answer　of　the　husband。

The　scene　was　one　that　might　have　passed　between　two　tigers
recognizing　the　futility　of　a　struggle　and；　after　a　moment's
hesitation；　turning　away；　without　even　a　roar。

〃Jacquet；〃　said　Jules；　〃have　you　attended　to　everything？〃

〃Yes；　to　everything；〃　replied　his　friend；　〃but　a　man　had　forestalled
me　who　had　ordered　and　paid　for　all。〃

〃He　tears　his　daughter　from　me！〃　cried　the　husband；　with　the　violence
of　despair。

Jules　rushed　back　to　his　wife's　room；　but　the　father　was　there　no
longer。　Clemence　had　now　been　placed　in　a　leaden　coffin；　and　workmen
were　employed　in　soldering　the　cover。　Jules　returned；　horrified　by　the
sight；　the　sound　of　the　hammers　the　men　were　using　made　him
mechanically　burst　into　tears。

〃Jacquet；〃　he　said；　〃out　of　this　dreadful　night　one　idea　has　come　to
me；　only　one；　but　one　I　must　make　a　reality　at　any　price。　I　cannot　let
Clemence　stay　in　any　cemetery　in　Paris。　I　wish　to　burn　her；to　gather
her　ashes　and　keep　her　with　me。　Say　nothing　of　this；　but　manage　on　my
behalf　to　have　it　done。　I　am　going　to　/her/　chamber；　where　I　shall
stay　until　the　time　has　come　to　go。　You　alone　may　come　in　there　to
tell　me　what　you　have　done。　Go；　and　spare　nothing。〃

During　the　morning；　Madame　Jules；　after　lying　in　a　mortuary　chapel　at
the　door　of　her　house；　was　taken　to　Saint…Roch。　The　church　was　hung
with　black　throughout。　The　sort　of　luxury　thus　displayed　had　drawn　a
crowd；　for　in　Paris　all　things　are　sights；　even　true　grief。　There　are
people　who　stand　at　their　windows　to　see　how　a　son　deplores　a　mother
as　he　follows　her　body；　there　are　others　who　hire　commodious　seats　to
see　how　a　head　is　made　to　fall。　No　people　in　the　world　have　such
insatiate　eyes　as　the　Parisians。　On　this　occasion；　inquisitive　minds
were　particularly　surprised　to　see　the　six　lateral　chapels　at　Saint…
Roch　also　hung　in　black。　Two　men　in　mourning　were　listening　to　a
mortuary　mass　said　in　each　chapel。　In　the　chancel　no　other　persons　but
Monsieur　Desmarets；　the　notary；　and　Jacquet　were　present；　the　servants
of　the　household　were　outside　the　screen。　To　church　loungers　there　was
something　inexplicable　in　so　much　pomp　and　so　few　mourners。　But　Jules
had　been　determined　that　no　indifferent　persons　should　be　present　at
the　ceremony。

High　mass　was　celebrated　with　the　sombre　magnificence　of　funeral
services。　Beside　the　ministers　in　ordinary　of　Saint…Roch；　thirteen
priests　from　other　parishes　were　present。　Perhaps　never　did　the　/Dies
irae/　produce　upon　Christians；　assembled　by　chance；　by　curiosity；　and
thirsting　for　emotions；　an　effect　so　profound；　so　nervously　glacial　as
that　now　caused　by　this　hymn　when　the　eight　voices　of　the　precentors；
accompanied　by　the　voices　of　the　priests　and　the　choir…boys；　intoned
it　alternately。　From　the　six　lateral　chapels　twelve　other　childish
voices　rose　shrilly　in　grief；　mingling　with　the　choir　voices
lamentably。　From　all　parts　of　the　church　this　mourning　issued；　cries
of　anguish　responded　to　the　cries　of　fear。　That　terrible　music　was　the
voice　of　sorrows　hidden　from　the　world；　of　secret　friendships　weeping
for　the　dead。　Never；　in　any　human　religion；　have　the　terrors　of　the
soul；　violently　torn　from　the　body　and　stormily　shaken　in　presence　of
the　fulminating　majesty　of　God；　been　rendered　with　such　force。　Before
that　clamor　of　clamors　all　artists　and　their　most　passionate
compositions　must　bow　humiliated。　No；　nothing　can　stand　beside　that
hymn；　which　sums　all　human　passions；　gives　them　a　galvanic　life　beyond
the　coffin；　and　leaves　them；　palpitating　still；　before　the　living　and
avenging　God。　These　cries　of　childhood；　mingling　with　the　tones　of
older　voices；　including　thus　in　the　Song　of　Death　all　human　life　and
its　developments；　recalling　the　sufferings　of　the　cradle；　swelling　to
the　griefs　of　other　ages　in　the　stronger　male　voices　and　the　quavering
of　the　priests；all　this　strident　harmony；　big　with　lightning　and
thunderbolts；　does　it　not　speak　with　equal　force　to　the　daring
imagination；　the　coldest　heart；　nay；　to　philosophers　themselves？　As　we
hear　it；　we　think　God　speaks；　the　vaulted　arches　of　no　church　are　mere
material；　they　have　a　voice；　they　tremble；　they　scatter　fear　by　the
might　of　their　echoes。　We　think　we　see　unnumbered　dead　arising　and
holding　out　their　hands。　It　is　no　more　a　father；　a　wife；　a　child；
humanity　itself　is　rising　from　its　dust。

It　is　impossible　to　judge　of　the　catholic；　apostolic；　and　Roman　faith；
unless　the　soul　has　known　that　deepest　grief　of　mourning　for　a　loved
one　lying　beneath　the　pall；　unless　it　has　felt　the　emotions　that　fill
the　heart；　uttered　by　that　Hymn　of　Despair；　by　those　cries　that　crush
the　mind；　by　that　sacred　fear　augmenting　strophe　by　strophe；　ascending
heavenward；　which　terrifies；　belittles；　and　elevates　the　soul；　and
leaves　within　our　minds；　as　the　last　sound　ceases；　a　consciousness　of
immortality。　We　have　met　and　struggled　with　the　vast　idea　of　the
Infinite。　After　that；　all　is　silent　in　the　church。　No　word　is　said；
sceptics　themselves　/know　not　what　they　are　feeling/。　Spanish　genius
alone　was　able　to　bring　this　untold　majesty　to　untold　griefs。

When　the　solemn　ceremony　was　over；　twelve　men　came　from　the　six
chapels　and　stood　around　the　coffin　to　hear　the　song　of　hope　which　the
Church　intones　for　the　Christian　soul　before　the　human　form　is　buried。
Then；　each　man　entered　alone　a　mourning…coach；　Jacquet　and　Monsieur
Desmarets　took　the　thirteenth；　the　servants　followed　on　foot。　An　hour
later；　they　were　at　the　summit　of　that　cemetery　popularly　called　Pere…
Lachaise。　The　unknown　twelve　men　stood　in　a　circle　round　the　grave；
where　the　coffin　had　been　laid　in　presence　of　a　crowd　of　loiterers
gathered　from　all　parts　of　this　public　garden。　After　a　few　short
prayers　the　priest　threw　a　handful　of　earth　on　the　remains　of　this
woman；　and　the　grave…diggers；　having　asked　for　their　fee；　made　haste
to　fill　the　grave　in　order　to　dig　another。

Here　this　history　seems　to　end；　but　perhaps　it　would　be　incomplete　if；
after　giving　a　rapid　sketch　of　Parisian　life；　and　following　certain　of
its　capricious　undulations；　the　effects　of　death　were　omitted。　Death
in　Paris　is　unlike　death　in　any　other　capital；　few　persons　know　the
trials　of　true　grief　in　its　struggle　with　civilization；　and　the
government　of　Paris。　Perhaps；　also；　Monsieur　Jules　and　Ferragus　XXIII。
may　have　proved　sufficiently　interesting　to　make　a　few　words　on　their
after　life　not　entirely　out　of　place。　Besides；　some　persons　like　to　be
told　all；　and　wish；　as　one　of　our　cleverest　critics　has　remarked；　to
know　by　what　chemical　process　oil　was　made　to　burn　in　Aladdin's　lamp。

Jacquet；　being　a　government　employee；　naturally　applied　to　the
authorities　for　permission　to　exhume　the　body　of　Madame　Jules　and　burn
it。　He　went　to　see　the　prefect　of　police；　under　whose　protection　the
dead　sleep。　That　functionary　demanded　a　petition。　The　blank　was
brought　that　gives　to　sorrow　its　proper　administrative　form；　it　was
necessary　to　employ　the　bureaucratic　jargon　to　express　the　wishes　of　a
man　so　crushed　that　words；　perhaps；　were　lacking　to　him；　and　it　was
also　necessary　to　coldly　and　briefly　repeat　on　the　margin　the　nature
of　the　request；　which　was　done　in　these　words：　〃The　petitioner
respectfully　asks　for　the　incineration　of　his　wife。〃

When　the　official　charged　with　mak