The inspector went in front; Armand and I followed a few steps behind.
From time to time I felt my companion's arm tremble convulsively, as if he shivered from head to feet.

I looked at him.

He understood the look, and smiled at me; we had not exchanged a word since leaving the house.
Just before we reached the grave, Armand stopped to wipe his face, which was covered with great drops of sweat.

I took advantage of the pause to draw in a long breath, for I, too, felt as if I had a weight on my chest.
What is the origin of that mournful pleasure which we find in sights of this kind?
When we reached the grave the gardener had removed all the flower-pots, the iron railing had been taken away, and two men were turning up the soil.
Armand leaned against a tree and watched.

All his life seemed to pass before his eyes.