which the strangling sound of the death rattle began to mingle:—
“Comrade! Before the Bon Coing is shut!”
The gravedigger took some more earth on his shovel. Fauchelevent continued.
“I will pay.”
And he seized the man’s arm.
“Listen to me, comrade. I am the convent gravedigger, I have come to help you. It is a business which can be performed at night. Let us begin, then, by going for a drink.”