At the cemetery, where three square yards of ground had been purchased through the good offices of the firm of Sonet (Villemot having announced Schmucke’s intention of erecting a magnificent monument), the master of ceremonies led Schmucke through a curious crowd to the grave into which Pons’ coffin was about to be lowered; but here, at the sight of the square hole, the four men waiting with ropes to lower the bier, and the clergy saying the last prayer for the dead at the grave-side, something clutched tightly at the German’s heart.  He fainted away.

Sonet’s agent and M. Sonet himself came to help Topinard to carry poor Schmucke into the marble-works hard by, where Mme. Sonet and Mme. Vitelot (Sonet’s partner’s wife) were eagerly prodigal of efforts to revive him.  Topinard stayed.  He had seen Fraisier in conversation with Sonet’s agent, and Fraisier, in his opinion, had gallows-bird written on his face.

An hour later, towards half-past two o’clock, the poor, innocent German came to himself.  Schmucke thought that he had been dreaming for the past two days; if he could only wake, he should find Pons still alive.  So many wet towels had been laid on his forehead, he had been made to inhale salts and vinegar to such an extent, that he opened his eyes at last.  Mme. Sonet make him take some meat-soup, for they had put the pot on the fire at the marble-works.

“Our clients do not often take things to heart like this; still, it happens once in a year or two—­”

At last Schmucke talked of returning to the Rue de Normandie, and at this Sonet began at once.

“Here is the design, sir,” he said; “Vitelot drew it expressly for you, and sat up last night to do it. . . .  And he has been happily inspired, it will look fine—­”

“One of the finest in Pere-Lachaise!” said the little Mme. Sonet.  “But you really ought to honor the memory of a friend who left you all his fortune.”

The design, supposed to have been drawn on purpose, had, as a matter of fact, been prepared for de Marsay, the famous cabinet minister.  His widow, however, had given the commission to Stidmann; people were disgusted with the tawdriness of the project, and it was refused.  The three figures at that period represented the three days of July which brought the eminent minister to power.  Subsequently, Sonet and Vitelot had turned the Three Glorious Days—­“les trois glorieuses”—­into the Army, Finance, and the Family, and sent in the design for the sepulchre of the late lamented Charles Keller; and here again Stidmann took the commission.  In the eleven years that followed, the sketch had been modified to suit all kinds of requirements, and now in Vitelot’s fresh tracing they reappeared as Music, Sculpture, and Painting.

“It is a mere trifle when you think of the details and cost of setting it up; for it will take six months,” said Vitelot.  “Here is the estimate and the order-form—­seven thousand francs, sketch in plaster not included.”