16
Molly had taken a quick stroll around the cathedral in Bergerac, stopping a moment to watch a funeral procession. A small group of older women stood by the ornate wrought iron gate, their faces stoic. Around the sidewalk came the plain coffin, the pallbearers older working men. The men were different heights and the coffin bobbed up and down as they walked, faces impassive.
Molly looked intently at the coffin, wondering who was inside, and what kind of life the person had had. Did some of the women standing by the gate love him? Had he been happy in his work? Or was it a woman? Was she wearing her favorite dress? Had anyone tucked a memento or jewelry into the coffin, as though she were a Pharaoh of Egypt?
No one was crying; Molly didn’t know whether that was a reluctance to show emo
