ODOUR OF CHRYSANTHEMUMS

different. She saw the great episode of her life closed with
him, and grief was a passion. The old mother was hushed in
awe. She, the elder, less honourable woman, had said : "She
drives him to it, she makes him ten thousand times worse."
But now the old mother bowed down in respect for the wife.
As the passion of Elizabeth's grief grew more, the old woman
shrank and tried to avoid it.

"Have you got his shirt, 'Lizabeth ?"

Elizabeth wept without answering, though she strove to
lull and recover. At last she rose and went into the kitchen.
Returning:

"It is aired," she said, grasping the cotton shirt here and
there to try. She was sorry to disturb him, but he could not
lie naked. It was hard work to clothe him. He was so heavy
and helpless, more helpless than a baby fallen heavily asleep.
They had to struggle with him as if he were a rebellious child.
This made Elizabeth's heart weep again.

Yet more joy was mixed in her emotion than she knew.
He might have come home ugly, befouled, so that she would
have had a loathly, strange creature to combat. Ah ! how
she had fought that him, the disfigured coward, which gradually
replaced her man ! How wise of death to be so silent! Even
now her fear could not trust him to speak. Yet he was
restored to her fair, unblemished, fresh as for the splendour
of a fight.

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