He was scarcely a subject for panegyric, and it was useless to dwell on the memory of his degradation.

I think we only once talked of him deeply and at any length, and that was on the day of the funeral.

His brother, a manufacturer at Clermont-Ferrand, and a widowed aunt, apparently his only two surviving relatives, arrived in Algiers just in time to attend the ceremony.

They had seen the report of the murder in the newspapers and had started forthwith.

The brother, during an interview with Lola, said bitter things to her, reproaching her with the man's downfall, and cast on her the responsibility of his death.
"He spoke," she said, "as if I had suggested the murder and practically put the knife into the poor crazy little fellow's hand." The Vauvenardes must have been an amiable family.
"Before I came," she said a little while later, "I still had some tenderness for him--a woman has for the only man that has been--really--in her life.