"My poor darling," he sighed, "I pity you, I do indeed! To see one for whom one has experienced a--feeling--with whom one has--lived in intimacy--to see him carried off at a blow--a tragic blow--is hard, is terrible!" And he extended his compassionate hands. Nanteuil, completely unnerved, and crushing her tiny handkerchief and her part in her hands, turned her back upon him, and hissed between her teeth: "Old idiot!" Fagette passed her arm round her waist, and led her gently aside to the foot of Racine's statue, where she whispered into her ear: "Listen to me, my dear. This affair must be completely hushed up. Everybody is talking about it. If you let people talk, they will brand you for life as Chevalier's widow." Then, being something of a talker, she added: "I know you, I am your best friend. I know your value. But beware, Felicie: women are held at their own valuation." Every one of Fagette's shafts told. Nanteuil, with fiery cheeks, held back her tears. Too young to possess or even to desire the prudence which comes to celebrated actresses when of an age to graduate as women of the world of fashion, she was full of self-esteem, and since she had known what it was to love another she was eager to efface everything unfashionable from her past; she felt that Chevalier, in killing himself for her sake, had behaved towards her publicly with a familiarity which made her ridiculous. Still unaware that all things fall into oblivion, and are lost in the swift current of our days, that all our actions flow like the waters of a river, between banks that have no memory, she pondered, irritated and dejected, at the feet of Jean Racine, who understood her grief. "Just look at her," said Madame Marie-Claire to young Delage. "She wants to cry. I understand her. A man killed himself for me. I was greatly upset by it. He was a count." "Well, begin again!" shouted Pradel. "Come now, Mademoiselle Nanteuil, your cue!" Whereupon Nanteuil: "'Cousin, I was so happy when I awoke this morning....'" Suddenly, Madame Doulce appeared. Ponderous and mournful, she let fall the following words: "I have very sad news. The parish priest will not allow him to enter his church." As Chevalier had no relations left other than a sister, a working-woman at Pantin, Madame Doulce had undertaken to make arrangements for the funeral at the expense of the members of the company. They gathered round her. She continued: "The Church rejects him as though he were accurst! That's dreadful!" "Why?" asked Romilly. Madame Doulce replied in a very low tone and as if reluctantly: "Because he committed suicide." "We must see to this," said Pradel. Romilly displayed an eager desire to be of service. "The cure knows me," he said. "He is a very decent fellow. I'll just run over to Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, and I'd be greatly surprised if----" Madame Doulce shook her head sadly: "All is useless."