On their left, they could see behind the low wall of the cemetery the white crosses rising among the bare tops of the lime-trees, and everywhere, in the wan dust, they breathed death, commonplace, uniform deaths under the administration of City and State, and poorly embellished by the pious hands of relations.
They passed between two massive pillars of stone surmounted by winged hour-glasses.

The hearse advanced slowly on the gravel which creaked in the silence.

It seemed, amid the homes of the dead, to be twice as tall as before.

The mourners read the famous names on some of the tombs, or gazed at the statue of a young girl, seated, book in hand.

Old Maury deciphered, in the inscriptions, the age of the deceased.