At length, however, she became tired.  Some game or other drew the children away from the house, and the old grandmother was left alone, forgotten suddenly by everybody.

The room was growing dark, and upon the dry and rigid features of the corpse the fitful flames of the candles cast patches of light.

Towards 8 o’clock Caravan ascended to the chamber of death, closed the windows and renewed the candles.  He was now quite composed on entering the room, accustomed already to regard the corpse as though it had been there for months.  He even went the length of declaring that, as yet, there were no signs of decomposition, making this remark just at the moment when he and his wife were about to sit down at table.  “Pshaw!” she responded, “she is now stark and stiff; she will keep for a year.”

The soup was eaten in silence.  The children, who had been left to themselves all day, now worn out by fatigue, were sleeping soundly on their chairs, and nobody ventured to break the silence.

Suddenly the flame of the lamp went down.  Madame Caravan immediately turned up the wick, a hollow sound ensued, and the light went out.  They had forgotten to buy oil.  To send for it now to the grocer’s would keep back the dinner, and they began to look for candles, but none were to be found except the tapers which had been placed upon the table upstairs in the death chamber.

Madame Caravan, always prompt in her decisions, quickly despatched Marie-Louise to fetch two, and her return was awaited in total darkness.

The footsteps of the girl who had ascended the stairs were distinctly heard.  There was silence for a few seconds and then the child descended precipitately.  She threw open the door and in a choking voice murmured:  “Oh! papa, grandmamma is dressing herself!”

Caravan bounded to his feet with such precipitance that his chair fell over against the wall.  He stammered out:  “You say? . . . .  What are you saying?”

But Marie-Louise, gasping with emotion, repeated:  “Grand—­grand —­grandmamma is putting on her clothes, she is coming downstairs.”

Caravan rushed boldly up the staircase, followed by his wife, dumfounded; but he came to a standstill before the door of the second floor, overcome with terror, not daring to enter.  What was he going to see?  Madame Caravan, more courageous, turned the handle of the door and stepped forward into the room.

The old woman was standing up.  In awakening from her lethargic sleep, before even regaining full consciousness, in turning upon her side and raising herself on her elbow, she had extinguished three of the candles which burned near the bed.  Then, gaining strength, she got off the bed and began to look for her clothes.  The absence of her chest of drawers had at first worried her, but, after a little, she had succeeded in finding her things at the bottom of the wooden box, and was now quietly dressing.  She emptied the plateful of water, replaced the sprig of box behind the looking-glass, and arranged the chairs in their places, and was ready to go downstairs when there appeared before her her son and daughter-in-law.