“When she became pregnant, and it was known, the most particular people and the greatest sticklers opened their doors to her, as if she had been definitely purified by maternity.

“It is funny, but so it is, and thus everything was going on as well as possible, when, the other day, was the feast of the patron saint of our town.  The Prefect, surrounded by his staff and the authorities, presided at the musical competition, and when he had finished his speech, the distribution of medals began, which Paul Hamot, his private secretary, handed to those who were entitled to them.

“As you know, there are always jealousies and rivalries, which make people forget all propriety.  All the ladies of the town were there on the platform, and, in his proper turn, the bandmaster from the village of Mourmillon came up.  This band was only to receive a second-class medal, for one cannot give first-class medals to everybody, can one?  But when the private secretary handed him his badge, the man threw it in his face and exclaimed: 

“’You may keep your medal for Baptiste.  You owe him a first-class one, also, just as you do me.’

“There were a number of people there who began to laugh.  The common herd are neither charitable nor refined, and every eye was turned towards that poor lady.  Have you ever seen a woman going mad, Monsieur?  Well, we were present at the sight!  She got up and fell back on her chair three times following, as if she had wished to make her escape, but saw that she could not make her way through the crowd, and then another voice in the crowd exclaimed: 

“‘Oh I Oh!  Madame Baptiste!’

“And a great uproar, partly laughter, and partly indignation, arose.  The word was repeated over and over again; people stood on tip-toe to see the unhappy woman’s face; husbands lifted their wives up in their arms, so that they might see the unhappy woman’s face, and people asked: 

“‘Which is she?  The one in blue?’

“The boys crowed like cocks, and laughter was heard all over the place.

“She did not move now on her state chair, just as if she had been put there for the crowd to look at.  She could not move, nor disappear, nor hide her face.  Her eyelids blinked quickly, as if a vivid light were shining in her face, and she panted like a horse that is going up a steep hill, so that it almost broke one’s heart to see it.  Meanwhile, however, Monsieur Hamot had seized the ruffian by the throat, and they were rolling on the ground together, amidst a scene of indescribable confusion, and the ceremony was interrupted.

“An hour later, as the Hamots were returning home, the young woman, who had not uttered a word since the insult, but who was trembling as if all her nerves had been set in motion by springs, suddenly sprang on the parapet of the bridge, and threw herself into the river, before her husband could prevent her.  The water is very deep under the arches, and it was two hours before her body was recovered.  Of course, she was dead.”