In front of the fireplace
Simonne and Clarisse were now standing talking to Lea de Horn, who was
seated, while by the bed, to the left of the door, Rose Mignon, perched
on the edge of a chest, sat gazing fixedly at the body where it lay
hidden in the shadow of the curtains. All the others had their hats and
gloves on and looked as if they were paying a call: she alone sat there
with bare hands and untidy hair and cheeks rendered pale by three nights
of watching. She felt stupid in the face of this sudden death, and her
eyes were swollen with weeping. A shaded lamp standing on the corner of
the chest of drawers threw a bright flood of light over Gaga.
"What a sad misfortune, is it not?" whispered Lucy as she shook hands
with Rose. "We wanted to bid her good-by."
And she turned round and tried to catch sight of her, but the lamp
was too far off, and she did not dare bring it nearer. On the bed lay
stretched a gray mass, but only the ruddy chignon was distinguishable
and a pale blotch which might be the face. Lucy added:
"I never saw her since that time at the Gaite, when she was at the end
of the grotto."
At this Rose awoke from her stupor and smiled as she said:
"Ah, she's changed; she's changed.
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