“What a consolation you have in your sorrow,” went on Madame Dulaurens. “These unanimous testimonies to the Commander’s heroism, this consensus of sympathy and regret.... In these democratic days merit is no longer sufficiently honored. It is sometimes death alone which gives to it its true reward, and in face of this irreparable loss one reproaches oneself bitterly for having known it too late.” The mention of her son touched Madame Guibert’s heart at once. “She is excusing herself now for having sent Marcel away,” she thought. “She knows now what a mistake she made and regrets it. But Madame de Marthenay ought not to have come. Her presence is painful to us.” She looked at the speaker, and her candid glance lighted up her wasted face as a ray of sunlight illumines the leafless woods in winter. Paule was on her guard. She was quite aware, however, that Madame Dulaurens was entirely unconscious of offence. The latter, after a short pause, explained the reason of her visit. “It must seem quite natural to you, therefore, that we should want to pay homage to this beloved memory. The whole of Savoy shares your grief, but specially the élite of the country, to which the Commander belonged, both because of his family and his splendid personal worth.” She took breath, and finding that she was speaking well, she glanced rapidly at her audience. Mademoiselle de Songeon showed her entire agreement by nodding her long head. Alice, absorbed in her thoughts and attentively listening, was looking at the grief-stricken faces of Madame Guibert and the friend of her girlhood. Her sorrow oppressed her so much that she laid her hands on her breast. Suppressed sobs were almost choking her. She would like to have opened her heart to these poor women but she did not dare. She tried to take Paule’s fingers gently in her own; she was sitting quite near her. But the girl drew her hand away firmly. She had forgotten nothing. Again Madame Dulaurens’s high pitched voice made itself heard in the silence of the drawing-room. “The patronesses of the White Cross of Savoy, in fact all the ladies of that society, have unanimously agreed to ask for the celebration of a funeral service at Chambéry. The Archbishop will officiate. He has promised us; we have the word of the vicar-general. More than fifty priests will be present. The prefect and the military authorities will be invited, and we have no doubt that they will be represented. It will be worthy, you may be sure, of the illustrious dead, in its ceremony and grandeur.” Madame Guibert had listened without interrupting, and she answered simply: