Odette, in her apartment, was once again overwhelmed by her personal sorrow. She had lived in Surville with her grief buried in the depths of her heart, for though everything she saw reminded her of Jean she had no leisure to give herself to dwelling upon the past. In the Rue de Balzac all her sorrow came to meet her entire as on the first day. It seemed as if her stay at Surville had done nothing for her. When Simone de Prans came to welcome her, it seemed to Odette that her friend had just arrived with the terrible news, and she melted into tears. Her tears surprised Simone, who dared not reproach her with exaggerating her sorrow, but who yet brought herself to give her to understand that so long and so violent a grief was not fitting, that no one any longer wept like that. Odette, made docile by eighteen months of punctual obedience to orders, did not resist, made no objection. "No one any longer wept like that"; it was a custom, one of those sovereign customs, which a Parisian woman instinctively accepts. Simone had said: "You understand, there are too many!" Which signified, such misfortunes are too numerous; they are raining down on everybody. The human heart would not be equal to its task if it must be always sympathizing; each woman in mourning would herself die of it, creating a new and superfluous pain. She spoke with the greatest ease of her Pierrot, one leg paralyzed, one arm five centimetres shorter than the other and with shattered nerves. He was at the Ministry of War, and was content. She told of a ceremony which she had accidentally witnessed that morning, passing the Madeleine on her way back from the Flower Market. "A fine marriage, you know; red carpet on the steps, a crowd to right and left. Just as I was passing the doors opened, and up above I saw the young couple." "There are still men to marry?" "Listen; she, who appeared to be pretty, a lovely girl, a brunette, tall, leaning, as if enamoured, on her husband's arm; he in uniform, his decorations flashing on his breast. Oh, the handsome fellow, not thirty years old! He held himself upright, splendid, not looking at his feet; two large eyes wide open and fixed, as if he were speaking to a superior. She seemed to be indicating the steps by a gentle pressure of the arm, that he might not lose an inch of his fine height. Behind them one could hear the swellings of the great organ. There was an impulse to applaud, for he was evidently a hero, unmaimed and superb. Every one was glad in the happiness of his charming wife, though pitying her in the midst of admiration, for to-morrow her handsome officer must return to the firing-line, and the war is endless. Suddenly there was a movement in the crowd, murmurs, whisperings, faces turned pale; the handsome officer had just missed falling, my dear, notwithstanding the care of his young wife to hide his infirmity, for he was blind!" "It's frightful, frightful," exclaimed Odette.