But Felicite went there every day.  At four o’clock exactly, she would go through the town, climb the hill, open the gate and arrive at Virginia’s tomb.  It was a small column of pink marble with a flat stone at its base, and it was surrounded by a little plot enclosed by chains.  The flower-beds were bright with blossoms.  Felicite watered their leaves, renewed the gravel, and knelt on the ground in order to till the earth properly.  When Madame Aubain was able to visit the cemetery she felt very much relieved and consoled.

Years passed, all alike and marked by no other events than the return of the great church holidays:  Easter, Assumption, All Saints’ Day.  Household happenings constituted the only data to which in later years they often referred.  Thus, in 1825, workmen painted the vestibule; in 1827, a portion of the roof almost killed a man by falling into the yard.  In the summer of 1828, it was Madame’s turn to offer the hallowed bread; at that time, Bourais disappeared mysteriously; and the old acquaintances, Guyot, Liebard, Madame Lechaptois, Robelin, old Gremanville, paralysed since a long time, passed away one by one.  One night, the driver of the mail in Pont-l’Eveque announced the Revolution of July.  A few days afterward a new sub-prefect was nominated, the Baron de Larsonniere, ex-consul in America, who, besides his wife, had his sister-in-law and her three grown daughters with him.  They were often seen on their lawn, dressed in loose blouses, and they had a parrot and a negro servant.  Madame Aubain received a call, which she returned promptly.  As soon as she caught sight of them, Felicite would run and notify her mistress.  But only one thing was capable of arousing her:  a letter from her son.

He could not follow any profession as he was absorbed in drinking.  His mother paid his debts and he made fresh ones; and the sighs that she heaved while she knitted at the window reached the ears of Felicite who was spinning in the kitchen.

They walked in the garden together, always speaking of Virginia, and asking each other if such and such a thing would have pleased her, and what she would probably have said on this or that occasion.

All her little belongings were put away in a closet of the room which held the two little beds.  But Madame Aubain looked them over as little as possible.  One summer day, however, she resigned herself to the task and when she opened the closet the moths flew out.

Virginia’s frocks were hung under a shelf where there were three dolls, some hoops, a doll-house, and a basic which she had used.  Felicite and Madame Aubain also took out the skirts, the handkerchiefs, and the stockings and spread them on the beds, before putting them away again.  The sun fell on the piteous things, disclosing their spots and the creases formed by the motions of the body.  The atmosphere was warm and blue, and a blackbird trilled in the garden; everything seemed to live in happiness.  They found a little hat of soft brown plush, but it was entirely moth-eaten.  Felicite asked for it.  Their eyes met and filled with tears; at last the mistress opened her arms and the servant threw herself against her breast and they hugged each other and giving vent to their grief in a kiss which equalised them for a moment.