never apparent in their short married life, rising from their common
tomb and hastening to that other tomb at the end of the alley, and
falling at the feet of the one to whom in life he had been recreant in
love, she in friendship.

Of course Jules answered through the wrong door, rushing in with his
gas-stick, and turning off the gas. In a moment we were involved in
darkness and dispute.

"But what does he mean? What does the idiot mean? He--" It was
impossible for her to find a word to do justice to him and to her
exasperation at the same time.

"Pardon, madame; it is not I. It is the cathedral bell; it is ringing
nine o'clock."

"But--"

"Madame can hear it herself. Listen!" We could not see it, but we were
conscious of the benign, toothless smile spreading over his face as
the bell-tones fell in the room.

"But it is not the gas. I--"

"Pardon, madame; but it is the gas. Madame said, 'Jules, put out the
gas every night when the bell rings.' Madame told me that only last
night. The bell rings: I put out the gas."

"Will you be silent? Will you listen?"