Through this bewilderment I heard the inspector say to Duval, “Do you identify?”
“Yes,” replied the young man in a dull voice.
“Then fasten it up and take it away,” said the inspector.
The grave-diggers put back the shroud over the face of the corpse, fastened up the coffin, took hold of each end of it, and began to carry it toward the place where they had been told to take it.
Armand did not move. His eyes were fixed upon the empty grave; he was as white as the corpse which we had just seen. He looked as if he had been turned to stone.
I saw what was coming as soon as the pain caused by the spectacle should have abated and thus ceased to sustain him. I went up to the inspector. “Is this gentleman’s presence still necessary?” I said, pointing to Armand.
“No,” he replied, “and I should advise you to take him away. He looks ill.”
“Come,” I said to Armand, taking him by the arm.
“What?” he said, looking at me as if he did not recognise me.
“It is all over,” I added. “You must come, my friend; you are quite white; you are cold. These emotions will be too much for you.”