“Ah,” said the doctor, “the companions of St. Francis were able to look ahead and to see of what material an assembly such as this of to-day would be composed.”
“I believe the Dies Iræ was written during the thirteenth century in a Franciscan convent,” replied M. Bergeret. “I must consult my friend, Commander Aspertini, on the subject.”
In the meanwhile the burial service was drawing to a close.
While they followed the hearse that bore the magistrate’s remains to the cemetery, M. Mazure, Dr. Fornerol, and M. Bergeret continued their conversation. As they were passing the house of Queen Marguerite, M. Mazure remarked:
“The agreement is signed. M. de Terremondre is owner of the ancient dwelling of Philippe Tricouillard, and intends to house his collection there, in the secret hope of selling it at a tremendous price some day to the town, whose benefactor he will thus become. By the way, Terremondre has made up his mind; he is going to offer himself as progressive republican candidate for Seuilly, but every one knows in what direction his progress will tend. He is a turncoat from the Royalists.”
“Hasn’t he got the Government behind him?” asked M. Bergeret.
“He is supported by the préfet, and opposed by the sous-préfet,” replied M. Mazure. “The sous-préfet of Seuilly is led by the President of the Council, and Worms-Clavelin, the préfet, acts upon the instructions of the Minister of the Interior.”
“Do you see that shop?” asked the doctor.
“The dyer’s and cleaner’s shop that belongs to the widow Leborgne?” said M. Mazure.
“Yes,” replied Dr. Fornerol. “Her husband died six weeks ago in the most extraordinary way. He literally died of fright and nervous shock at sight of a dog which he believed to be mad, and which was as healthy as I am myself.”