The sky is marshy and sprinkled with crows.
The coffin, with its shapeless human form, is lowered from the hearse and disappears in the fresh earth.
They march past.

Marie and her father take their places beside me.

I say thanks to every one in the same tone; they are all like each other, with their gestures of impotence, their dejected faces, the words they get ready and pour out as they pass before me, and their dark costume.
No one has come from the castle, but in spite of that there are many people and they all converge upon me.

I pluck up courage.
Monsieur Lucien Gozlan comes forward, calls me "my dear sir," and brings me the condolences of his uncles, while the rest watch us.
Joseph Boneas says "my dear friend" to me, and that affects me deeply.
Monsieur Pocard says, "If I had been advised in time I would have said a few words.

It is regrettable----" Others follow; then nothing more is to be seen in the rain, the wind and the gloom but backs.
"It's finished.