"You are right, Cephyse."
"Let me kiss that beautiful hair for the last time," said Cephyse, as she pressed her lips to the silky locks which crowned the hunchback's pale and melancholy countenance, "and then—we will remain very quiet."
"Sister, your hand," said the sewing-girl; "for the last time, your hand—and then, as you say, we will move no more. We shall not have to wait long, I think, for I begin to feel dizzy. And you, sister?"
"Not yet," replied Cephyse; "I only perceive the smell of the charcoal."
"Do you know where they will bury us?" said Mother Bunch, after a moment's silence.
"No. Why do you ask?"
"Because I should like it to be in Pere-la-Chaise. I went there once with Agricola and his mother. What a fine view there is!—and then the trees, the flowers, the marble—do you know the dead are better lodged—than the living—and—"
"What is the matter, sister?" said Cephyse to her companion, who had stopped short, after speaking in a slow voice.
"I am giddy—my temples throb," was the answer. "How do you feel?"
"I only begin to be a little faint; it is strange—the effect is slower with me than you."