The first thing I did was to look at the clock as I entered the waiting- room of the station
at Loubain, and I found that I had to wait two hours and ten minutes for the Paris express.
I had walked twenty miles and felt suddenly tired. Not seeing anything on the station
walls to amuse me, I went outside and stood there racking my brains to think of
something to do. The street was a kind of boulevard, planted with acacias, and on either
side a row of houses of varying shape and different styles of architecture, houses such as
one only sees in a small town, and ascended a slight hill, at the extreme end of which
there were some trees, as though it ended in a park.
From time to time a cat crossed the street and jumped over the gutters carefully. A cur
sniffed at every tree and hunted for scraps from the kitchens, but I did not see a single
human being, and I felt listless and disheartened. What could I do with myself? I was
already thinking of the inevitable and interminable visit to the small cafe at the railway
station, where I should have to sit over a glass of undrinkable beer and the illegible
newspaper, when I saw a funeral procession coming out of a side street into the one in
which I was, and the sight of the hearse was a relief to me. It would, at any rate, give me
something to do for ten minutes.
Suddenly, however, my curiosity was aroused. The hearse was followed by eight
gentlemen, one of whom was weeping, while the others were chatting together, but there
was no priest, and I thought to myself:
"This is a non-religious funeral," and then I reflected that a town like Loubain must
contain at least a hundred freethinkers, who would have made a point of making a
manifestation. What could it be, then? The rapid pace of the procession clearly proved
that the body was to be buried without ceremony, and, consequently, without the
intervention of the Church.
My idle curiosity framed the most complicated surmises, and as the hearse passed me, a
strange idea struck me, which was to follow it, with the eight gentlemen. That would take
up my time for an hour, at least, and I accordingly walked with the others, with a sad look
on my face, and, on seeing this, the two last turned round in surprise, and then spoke to
each other in a low voice.
No doubt they were asking each other whether I belonged to the town, and then they
consulted the two in front of them, who stared at me in turn. This close scrutiny annoyed
me, and to put an end to it I went up to them, and, after bowing, I said:
"I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for interrupting your conversation, but, seeing a civil
funeral, I have followed it, although I did not know the deceased gentleman whom you
are accompanying."
