“Ah yes, nearly all the aristocrats had already been killed off …”

“There must have been much settlings of scores, jealousies, accusations …”

“They used to be carried here on tumbrels from the Place de la Nation. One thousand, three hundred and six of them …”

“Even at the end of the war there must have been much settlings of scores, jealousies, accusations. Then they had them killed, and that was the end of it …”

A lady from the rest home interrupted them.

“It’s hot today. So humid …”

“Yes, it’s been like this for a few days …” said the Sister.

“It’s so nice to have visits …”

“My brother …”

“I have a sister too. But she only comes when it suits her.”

The Brother had a tremulous smile on his moist, ruddy gray face. He was poorly shaved. His suit, too heavy, was of a kind no longer seen in the shops.

“Brothers are better than sisters,” he said. “They look after many practical problems, provide a little help …”

Another waiting visitor came to sit on the bench, a small frail old man, wearing a light-colored cloth beret. When he smiled, three long yellow solitary teeth appeared. For several years he had spent his days visiting historic places in Paris, and on that oppressive August day he had come to the Picpus Cemetery. He was interested not in beauty, only in history.

“I’m for history, one hundred percent,” he repeated at the first opportunity. Cemeteries and plaques were history and nothing else, so these were his favorites. At the end of the visit, the custodian, a gloomy man driven from his farm in Algeria, who often confused his lost Africa with the ancien régime, said a few words about the sixteen Carmelites of Compiègne who had died for their faith on July 17, 1794. He mentioned the books by Lenotre that he had on display at the gatehouse for anyone wishing to purchase a souvenir. Then, for the first time, the little old man turned to the Brother: “But we shouldn’t forget that the Carmelites were a brothel for priests. And then …”

A Jacobin glint appeared for just a moment in his eyes. The Brother gave a knowing smile. But his sister was already calling him toward the gate that led back to the garden of the rest home. The group gradually parted.