We talked together of this great mind that is no more. We were calm. The night watcher wept as he listened to us. The Prefect of the Gironde called. I could not receive him. This morning at 10 o’clock I went to No. 13, Rue Saint Maur. The hearse was there. MM. Bouvier and Mourot awaited me. I entered the salon. I kissed the coffin. Then he was taken away. There was one carriage. These gentlemen and I entered it. Arrived at the cemetery the coffin was taken from the hearse. Six men carried it. MM. Alexis Bouvier, Mourot and I followed, bareheaded. It was raining in torrents. We walked behind the coffin. At the end of a long alley of plane trees we found the depository, a vault lighted only by the door. You descend five or six steps to it. Several coffins were waiting there, as Charles’s will wait. The bearers entered with the coffin. As I was about to follow, the keeper of the depository said to me: “No one is allowed to go in.” I understood, and I respected this solitude of the dead. MM. Alexis Bouvier and Mourot took me back to No. 13, Rue Saint Maur. Alice was in a swoon. I gave her some vinegar to smell and beat her hands. She came to, and said: “Charles, where art thou?” I am overcome with grief. March 16.--At noon Victor arrived with Barbieux and Louis Mie. We embraced in silence and wept. He handed me a letter from Meurice and Vacquerie. We decide that Charles shall be buried in the tomb of my father in Père Lachaise, in the place that I had reserved for myself. I write a letter to Meurice and Vacquerie in which I announce that I shall leave with the coffin tomorrow and that we shall arrive in Paris the following day. Barbieux will leave to-night and take the letter to them. March 17.--We expect to leave Bordeaux with my Charles at 6 o’clock this evening. Victor and I, with Louis Mie, fetched Charles from the Depository, and took him to the railway station. March 18.--We left Bordeaux at 6.30 in the evening and arrived in Paris at 10.30 this morning. At the railway station we were received in a salon where the newspapers, which had announced our arrival for noon, were handed to me. We waited. Crowd; friends. At noon we set out for Père Lachaise. I followed the hearse bareheaded. Victor was beside me. All our friends followed, the people too. As the procession passed there were cries of: “Hats off!” In the Place de la Bastille a spontaneous guard of honour was formed about the hearse by National Guards, who passed with arms reversed. All along the line of route to the cemetery battalions of the National Guard were drawn up. They presented arms and gave the salute to the flag. Drums rolled and bugles sounded. The people waited till I had passed, then shouted: “Long live the Republic!”