to him, without noise. As the figure drew
nearer, though the light from his solitary
candle was very dim, Monsieur Gombert
perceived a pale, hollow face which wore an
expression of great anxiety; the eyes were
wide open and glittered exceedingly, and a
quantity of dark hair streamed wildly.
Monsieur Gombert gasped for utterance, but
it was denied him. The appearance came
nearer still, and then Monsieur Gombert
imagined—but doubted, notwithstanding—
that he recognised features he had lately
seen. This supposition gave him a glimmer
of courage.

"My friend," he said, "what brings you
here at this hour?"

"Death! " answered the figure, in a deep,
sepulchral voice.

"How! Death! Has any misfortune
arrived?"

"The greatest that can happen to man.
Henri Bodry died an hour ago. I come to
invite you to his funeral?"

"You! you! But you are Henri Bodry!"

"I was—this morning!"

"Ah! Mon Dieu! " exclaimed the merchant,
and fell senseless from his stool.

At his outcry and the noise he made in
falling, Madeleine and old Petronille, the
bonne, who were at work in the next room,
rushed into the counting-house. They
supposed Monsieur Gombert was in a fit, and
hastily applied such remedies as they could
devise. After a few minutes the silk
merchant opened his eyes.

"Where is he? " he said, looking round
with horror.

"Who, sir?" asked Madeleine. "What
do you mean?"

"Who ? " he repeated slowly, again looking
round him. " Who? Henry Bodry. He
was here this moment."

"Impossible, sir! " said Petronille. "You
were alone when we came, which we did on
the instant you called out. There was not
the shadow of a person in the room."

"The shadow! " returned Monsieur
Gombert. " Ah, that is it. The shadow. It was
no living being."

"I beseech you, my father," said Madeleine,
"to tell us what is the matter. You look ill
and frightened."

"I have reason to be so," replied Monsieur
Gombert. " I have seen a spirit."

He then, as collectedly as he could,
related what had occurred.

"This is a fancy," said Madeleine.
Monsieur Gombert shook his head.

"A dream," observed Petronille. "You
supped well on that famous goose of Alençon
—you had more than one glass of Burgundy,
in honour of Monsieur Bodry"—the silk
merchant shivered—" over your books after
supper, a wrong time, you became sleepy, an
indigestion arrived—there!"

Ingenious reasoning, but not satisfactory
to Monsieur Gombert.

"I saw him," he persisted, " as distinctly
as I see either of you. It was the face of a
dead man. He invited me to his funeral."

These words and the earnestness with
which Monsieur Gombert spoke infected
Madeleine and Petronille with some of his
own fear : they also looked timidly about
them, dreading to behold some hideous
apparition.

Mademoiselle Gombert was the first to
regain her presence of mind.

"Let somebody be sent at once to ask news
of him."

This suggestion was immediately adopted.
Jacques, the confidential clerk, who lived in
the house with the rest, was thought the
most proper person to employ; and, without
being made aware of the motive which had
led to his errand, was directed to ask if
Monsieur Henri Bodry could come and see
Monsieur Gombert directly. In less than
half an hour he returned, with a countenance
much discomposed.

"Sir," said he, to Monsieur Gombert, " I
bring you very sad tidings. The young
gentleman who came here only this morning
so full of life and spirits, died about an hour
ago!"

Madeleine Gombert was thunderstruck.
She could scarcely believe her ears. But it
was more than astonishment. There was
a pang at her heart. That fine, handsome
young man, who had so much interested
her!

Monsieur Gombert felt very ill, and went
at once to bed. Old Petronille and his
daughter kept watch beside him with as
many candles burning as there were
candlesticks in the house to hold them; and,
further to scare away all evil spirits,
Madeleine read aloud the Office des Morts,
Monsieur Gombert joining fervently at the
end of every psalm with the anthem " Heu
mihi!"

So much affected, indeed, was the honest
silk-merchant by the sudden death of his
correspondent's son, that he did not get the
better of the shock for several days. To
attend Henri Bodry's funeral was entirely
out of the question; and the knowledge that
it had taken place while he was confined to
his room, materially contributed to his
recovery.

"Once fairly underground," thought
Monsieur Gombert, " he is not so likely to pay
me another visit, unless—unless "—and this
doubt harassed him sorely, " unless he is
vexed at my not having complied with his
wishes."

As for Madeleine, poor girl, she talked over
the sad event with old Petronille: it was the
only consolation she could find for the loss of
her lover. She also sought comfort in
devotion, and instead of going now and then
when the day was fine, went regularly
morning and evening to mass in the church of
Saint Merri.