stammered Anfos as he beat a hasty retreat to the
door.
'Do not be such an Imbecile!9 snapped Eusebe, Of
course he had always Intended to give in, so that he
started to speak less fiercely: clt may be that I shall
not say no after all It may very well be that, upon
second thoughts, I shall find myself much inclined to
say yes ... I do say it. Yes, you may bury the bitch
In that bit of waste ground that abuts on my vines,
but'—and now he really became terrific—'but the saints
protect you if so much as a leaf, If so much as a tendril
Is touched In the process. Sarnipabieune! I will
strip you of skin! I will pluck the beard from your face
hair by hair! I will . . . .'
In sheer panic Anfos turned and fled, scuttling
away to the port to find Goundran.
Goundran agreed to help willingly enough: CI will
come to-night bringing an old sail with me. Mean-
while you must find a lantern and spade — we shall
need a lantern for the moon is still young. How is
Christophe taking the death of the bitch?'
CI do not know — he says little/ Anfos told him.
§4
When most of the windows of Saint Loup were
dark because most of its tired inhabitants were
sleeping, Mireio's funeral procession set forth. Goun-
dran and Anfos were carrying the body very neatly
sewn up in the promised sail; Christophe was carrying
the spade and lantern. In silence they made their
way through the town, and in silence the three of
them passed out beyond it and started to climb the
steep, dusty hill that led to the foot of Eusebe's vine-
yards — to that rock^strewn waste-land where Mireio
still lies, the soil being too stony for cultivation. And
even the strong arms that carried her ached, for