The cry came up into a deathly silence: "Raise! Softly!" They could see
her diminished figure shrink, as he was swung into the air.
They gave no shout when some of them laid him on a litter, and others
lowered another strong rope. The cry again came up into a deathly
silence: "Raise! Softly!" But when they caught her at the brink, then
they shouted, then they wept, then they gave thanks to Heaven, then they
kissed her feet, then they kissed her dress, then the dogs caressed her,
licked her icy hands, and with their honest faces warmed her frozen
bosom!
She broke from them all, and sank over him on his litter, with both her
loving hands upon the heart that stood still.
ACT IV.
THE CLOCK-LOCK
The pleasant scene was Neuchatel; the pleasant month was April; the
pleasant place was a notary's office; the pleasant person in it was the
notary: a rosy, hearty, handsome old man, chief notary of Neuchatel,
known far and wide in the canton as Maitre Voigt. Professionally and
personally, the notary was a popular citizen. His innumerable kindnesses
and his innumerable oddities had for years made him one of the recognised
public characters of the pleasant Swiss town. His long brown frock-coat
and his black skull-cap, were among the institutions of the place: and he
carried a snuff-box which, in point of size, was popularly believed to be
without a parallel in Europe.
There was another person in the notary's office, not so pleasant as the
notary.
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