Bigot looked at him in a sort of dream. "I cannot do it, Cadet! I
cannot dig her grave!" and he threw down the spade which he had
taken feebly in his hand.
"No matter, Bigot! I will do it! Indeed, you would only be in my
way. Sit down while I dig, old friend. Par Dieu! this is nice work
for the Commissary General of New France, with the Royal Intendant
overseeing him!"
Bigot sat down and looked forlornly on while Cadet with the arms of
a Hercules dug and dug, throwing out the earth without stopping for
the space of a quarter of an hour, until he had made a grave large
and deep enough to contain the body of the hapless girl.
"That will do!" cried he, leaping out of the pit. "Our funeral
arrangements must be of the briefest, Bigot! So come help me to
shroud this poor girl."
Cadet found a sheet of linen and some fine blankets upon a couch in
the secret chamber. He spread them out upon the floor, and motioned
to Bigot without speaking. The two men lifted Caroline tenderly and
reverently upon the sheet. They gazed at her for a minute in solemn
silence, before shrouding her fair face and slender form in their
last winding-sheet.
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