e black hair in disorder, her legs and feet
naked, she was barely covered with an old patched petticoat and a very
ragged handkerchief.

When she came near the bed, she cast a glance of almost savage assurance
at the shroud. Suddenly she drew back, with a low cry of involuntary
terror. The sheet moved with a rapid undulation, extending from the feet
to the head of the corpse. But soon the sight of a rat, flying along the
side of the worm-eaten bedstead, explained the movement of the shroud.
Recovering from her fright, Cephyse began to look for several things, and
collected them in haste, as though she dreaded being surprised in the
miserable shop. First, she seized a basket, and filled it with charcoal;
then, looking from side to side, she discovered in a corner an earthen
pot, which she took with a burst of ominous joy.

"It is not all, it is not all," said Cephyse, as she continued to search
with an unquiet air.

At last she perceived near the stove a little tin box, containing flint,
steel and matches. She placed these articles on the top of the basket,
and took it in one hand, and the earthen pot in the other. As she passed
near the corpse of the poor charcoal-dealer, Cephyse said, with a strange
smile: "I rob you, poor Mother Arsene, but my theft will not do me much
good."

Cephyse left the shop, reclosed the door as well as she could, went up
the passage, and crossed the little court-yard which separated the front
of the building from that part in which Rodin had lodged. With the
exception of the windows of Philemon's apartment, where Rose-Pompon had
so often sat perched like a bird, warbling Beranger, the other windows of
the house were open. There had been deaths on the first and second
floors, and, like many others, they were waiting for the cart piled up
with coffins.

The Bacchanal Queen gained the stairs, which led to the chambers formerly
occupied by Rodin. Arrived at the landing-place she ascended another
ruinous staircase, steep as a ladder, and with nothing but an old rope
for a rail. She at lengt