His quick bright face was made for smiles, and naturally relaxed to that happy state.
He clapped me on the back.
"You are my best friend," he cried.
And I had, indeed, arranged the funeral for him.

Those who had honoured the ceremony with their presence showed much sympathy for Alphonse.

They pressed his hand; some of them embraced him.

A few--elderly men with daughters--told him that they felt like fathers towards him.

All this Alphonse received with a bland innocence which his Parisian education had no doubt taught him.
When they were gone, rattling away in their new carriages, he looked after them with a laugh.
"And now," he said, "for ruin.