When the church was reached the carriages drew up in double ranks around the broad green meadow in which it stood, and the occupants, descending, filed in motley array into the building. Just in front of the altar two tressels were prepared for the coffins, which were not brought in until the whole congregation, which filled the pews to overflowing, was seated. Then the measured tramp of men was heard, and amid general weeping and lamentation the pall-bearers entered, and the priest, advancing from the foot of the altar, sprinkled with holy water first one coffin and then the other as they were placed before him, while the choir chanted softly the "De Profundis." Everything proceeded quietly as usual through the beautiful services for the burial of the dead, and the cool, dark church, with its mingled odor of incense and flowers, became more and more quiet as the soothing influences crept over the hearts of those assembled there. Mass was over, and the priest, coming out from the chancel, knelt before the tall crucifix which stood at the foot of the coffins and began the most touching of all prayers, "Non intres in judicium," when a sudden movement was heard at the lower end of the church, a stifled cry of alarm instantly hushed, and in another moment Marcelline, who had followed the cortége, like the other servants, on foot, walked slowly and with a perfectly composed and steady step up the aisle, made her reverence to the Host which was concealed in the tabernacle before her, and then stood facing the priest, who without pausing finished his prayer and rose from his knees. "What wouldst thou have, my daughter," he asked with dignity, "that thou dost disturb the holy services of the Church?" There was a slight pause. Marcelline seemed to steady herself: then putting her hand on the coffin of Alphège Cherbuliez, she said in a high, monotonous voice which rang through the building and reached even the watchers on the green without, "I killed Doctor Alphège Cherbuliez with my own hands. No one helped me and no one saw me. You can turn Pierre Lambas and Gérard Grôl loose." There was a sudden stir like the rushing of a mighty wind through the church, but the priest waved his hand and the people were still. "What was your motive?" he asked without moving. The woman had never turned her head, and now answered him in the same overstrained key: "He starved my mistress to death. I saw her slowly dying of hunger and thirst day after day, and I made up my mind to kill him as soon as I could get the chance. I had to wait and wait," she went on, her voice sinking a little, "till at last it was too late."