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The following day was such a good one for M. Coignard that we hoped he would remain with us. He drank meat broth, and was able to rise in his bed. He talked to each of us with his accustomed grace and sweetness. M. d'Anquetil, who dwelt at Gaulard's, came to see him, end rather indiscreetly asked him to play piquet Smiling, my good master promised to do so next week.
My good master was carried to the graveyard close by the church; and M. d'Anquetil offered supper at Gaulard's to all the people who had assisted at the funeral. They drank new wine and sang Burgundian songs. Afterwards I went with M. d'Anquetil to the vicar to thank him for his good offices. "Ah!" he said, "that priest has given us a grand consolation by his edifying end.
But after a few minutes, observing them very closely, I saw M. d'Anquetil pulling her out of the cemetery and leading her towards Gaulard's inn with a remainder of fury she was easily capable of calming, alone and without help.
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