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"
Who
knows
?
Perhaps
we
have
still
some
sensations
after
our
death
,
"
he
had
said
one
day
to
Fouqué
.
"
I
should
like
to
rest
,
for
rest
is
the
right
word
,
in
that
little
grotto
in
the
great
mountain
which
dominates
Verrières
.
Many
a
time
,
as
I
have
told
you
,
I
have
spent
the
night
alone
in
that
grotto
,
and
as
my
gaze
would
plunge
far
and
wide
over
the
richest
provinces
of
France
,
ambition
would
inflame
my
heart
.
In
those
days
it
was
my
passion
.
.
.
.
Anyway
,
I
hold
that
grotto
dear
,
and
one
cannot
dispute
that
its
situation
might
well
arouse
the
desires
of
the
philosopher
’
s
soul
.
.
.
.
Well
,
you
know
!
those
good
priests
of
Besançon
will
make
money
out
of
everything
.
If
you
know
how
to
manage
it
,
they
will
sell
you
my
mortal
remains
.
"
Fouqué
succeeded
in
this
melancholy
business
.
He
was
passing
the
night
alone
in
his
room
by
his
friend
’
s
body
when
,
to
his
great
surprise
,
he
saw
Mathilde
come
in
.
A
few
hours
before
he
had
left
her
ten
leagues
from
Besançon
.
Her
face
and
eyes
looked
distraught
.
"
I
want
to
see
him
,
"
she
said
.
Fouqué
had
not
the
courage
either
to
speak
or
get
up
.
He
pointed
with
his
finger
to
a
big
blue
cloak
on
the
floor
;
there
was
wrapped
in
it
all
that
remained
of
Julien
.
She
threw
herself
on
her
knees
.
The
memory
of
Boniface
de
la
Mole
,
and
of
Marguerite
of
Navarre
gave
her
,
no
doubt
,
a
superhuman
courage
.
Her
trembling
hands
undid
the
cloak
.
Fouqué
turned
away
his
eyes
.
He
heard
Mathilde
walking
feverishly
about
the
room
.
She
lit
several
candles
.
When
Fouqué
could
bring
himself
to
look
at
her
,
she
had
placed
Julien
’
s
head
on
a
little
marble
table
in
front
of
her
,
and
was
kissing
it
on
the
forehead
Mathilde
followed
her
lover
to
the
tomb
which
he
had
chosen
.
A
great
number
of
priests
convoyed
the
bier
,
and
,
alone
in
her
draped
carriage
,
without
anyone
knowing
it
,
she
carried
on
her
knees
the
head
of
the
man
whom
she
had
loved
so
much
.
When
they
arrived
in
this
way
at
the
most
elevated
peak
of
the
high
mountains
of
the
Jura
,
twenty
priests
celebrated
the
service
of
the
dead
in
the
middle
of
the
night
in
this
little
grotto
,
which
was
magnificently
illuminated
by
a
countless
number
of
wax
candles
.
Attracted
by
this
strange
and
singular
ceremony
,
all
the
inhabitants
of
the
little
mountain
villages
which
the
funeral
had
passed
through
,
followed
it
.
Mathilde
appeared
in
their
midst
in
long
mourning
garments
,
and
had
several
thousands
of
five
-
franc
pieces
thrown
to
them
at
the
end
of
the
service
.
When
she
was
left
alone
with
Fouqué
,
she
insisted
on
burying
her
lover
’
s
head
with
her
own
hands
.
Fouqué
nearly
went
mad
with
grief
.
