” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided. Gianfrancesco was not ugly, in fact, perhaps he was rather handsome after all. The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. There were two sisters, you know. There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict. Michelle seemed so innocent and sweet. To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock.
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