A ring was formed around Madame Berthier and the coffin, and it was observed that several of the mourners immediately decamped with precipitation.
On the coffin was a silver plate, inscribed with the name of Foulon, and a list of the offices he had held, that of minister during the eventful three days, not being omitted.
'Open the coffin for me, good people. You shall see my father. He is not very terrible now.'
'A turnscrew,' was called from man to man; and presently one was produced, and the coffin-lid was slowly and laboriously removed.
'Now,' said Madame Berthier, taking hold of the napkin spread over the face of the deceased, 'I bid you all look with me on the countenance of my poor father. He was a bad man, I allow, and a hard man upon the poor, but then, he is dead now, and has gone to his account. You have prayed God to have mercy on his soul; I am sure when you see his dead face that you will be prepared to bury your resentment in his grave. Behold!' she drew the napkin aside, looked on the face of the corpse, started back, uttering a cry of dismay:—
'This is not my father! This is poor Adolphe!'
The crowd pressed forward and stared long at the dead man, satisfying themselves of the deception. Not a word was spoken, not a murmur arose. All pushed up to the corpse, gazed on it, and then looked into the eyes of those around them.
'My father is still alive!' exclaimed madame. 'Praised be God.'
'Madame,' said a man into her ear, 'before the week is out he will be dead.'