A moment before (and she
showed the place), the father and daughter had appeared to her, one
after the other; they did nothing but look at her.
During several months she remained inert in her room. Felicite scolded
her gently; she must keep up for her son and also for the other one, for
"her memory."
"Her memory!" replied Madame Aubain, as if she were just awakening, "Oh!
yes, yes, you do not forget her!" This was an allusion to the cemetery
where she had been expressly forbidden to go.
But Felicite went there every day. At four o'clock exactly, she would go
through the town, climb the hill, open the gate and arrive at Virginia's
tomb. It was a small column of pink marble with a flat stone at its
base, and it was surrounded by a little plot enclosed by chains. The
flower-beds were bright with blossoms. Felicite watered their leaves,
renewed the gravel, and knelt on the ground in order to till the earth
properly. When Madame Aubain was able to visit the cemetery she felt
very much relieved and consoled.
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