The rolling of the ship worried him, hampered him in his work, kept shifting the corpse out of position; and he was eager to be done and to get the wine that was waiting for him.
First, the feet; he had been told to bind them tight on account of the cannon-ball which is attached to the dead body to make it sink. Then the legs; and presently the body was entirely hidden, enveloped in many thicknesses of coarse canvas; only the pale face was now visible, tranquil in death, and looking strangely handsome with a peaceful smile. And then roughly, with a brutal indifference, Le Hir drew over it an end of the grey canvas and the face was veiled for ever.
In a French village the old parents of this Barazère were looking forward to the day of his return.
When the job was done Yves and Barrada came out of the mortuary chamber pushing Le Hir before them by the shoulders, to see that he washed his hands before he drank his wine.
They had been exchanging ideas about death apparently, for Barrada, as he came out, said in his Bordeaux accent:
"Ah! Nonsense! It is with men as with beasts; others will come, but those who die . . ."
And he finished by laughing that curious laugh of his, which sounded deep and hollow like a roar.
From his lips, there was nothing impious in the phrase; it was simply that he knew nothing better to say.
They were both, as a matter of fact, much moved; they grieved for Barazère. Now, the malady which had caused them fear was covered up, forgotten; in their memory, the dead man had emerged from that final impurity and become suddenly ennobled; they saw him again as in the time of his strength, and in thinking of him they were moved to pity.