")
Madame de Listomere went home, hoping that the archbishop would
complete the work of peace so auspiciously begun. But Birotteau was
fated to gain nothing by his relinquishment. Mademoiselle Gamard died
the next day. No one felt surprised when her will was opened to find
that she had left everything to the Abbe Troubert. Her fortune was
appraised at three hundred thousand francs. The vicar-general sent to
Madame de Listomere two notes of invitation for the services and for
the funeral procession of his friend; one for herself and one for her
nephew.
"We must go," she said.
"It can't be helped," said Monsieur de Bourbonne. "It is a test to
which Troubert puts you. Baron, you must go to the cemetery," he
added, turning to the lieutenant, who, unluckily for him, had not left
Tours.
The services took place, and were performed with unusual
ecclesiastical magnificence. Only one person wept, and that was
Birotteau, who, kneeling in a side chapel and seen by none, believed
himself guilty of the death and prayed sincerely for the soul of the
deceased, bitterly deploring that he was not able to obtain her
forgiveness before she died.
The Abbe Troubert followed the body of his friend to the grave; at the
verge of which he delivered a discourse in which, thanks to his
eloquence, the narrow life the old maid had lived was enlarged to
monumental proportions. Those present took particular note of the
following words in the peroration:--
"This life of days devoted to God and to His religion, a life adorned
with noble actions silently performed, and with modest and hidden
virtues, was crushed by a sorrow which we might call undeserved if we
could forget, here at the verge of this grave, that our afflictions
are sent by God.
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