le Cure, attired in his handsome chasuble and walking under a
canopy of red velvet supported by four men. A crowd of people
followed, jammed between the walls of the houses hung with white
sheets; at last the procession arrived at the foot of the hill.
A cold sweat broke out on Felicite's forehead. Mother Simon wiped
it away with a cloth, saying inwardly that some day she would have
to go through the same thing herself.
The murmur of the crowd grew louder, was very distinct for a
moment and then died away. A volley of musketry shook the
window-panes. It was the postilions saluting the Sacrament.
Felicite rolled her eyes and said as loudly as she could:
"Is he all right?" meaning the parrot.
Her death agony began. A rattle that grew more and more rapid
shook her body. Froth appeared at the corners of her mouth, and
her whole frame trembled. In a little while could be heard the
music of the bass horns, the clear voices of the children and the
men's deeper notes. At intervals all was still, and their shoes
sounded like a herd of cattle passing over the grass.
The clergy appeared in the yard. Mother Simon climbed on a chair
to reach the bull's-eye, and in this manner could see the altar.
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