At last Simoneau
returned.
"Well?" whispered the old woman.
"It is all settled," he answered; "the funeral is ordered for tomorrow
at eleven. There is nothing for you to do, and you needn't talk of these
things before the poor lady."
Nevertheless, Mme Gabin remarked: "The doctor of the dead hasn't come
yet."
Simoneau took a seat beside Marguerite and after a few words of
encouragement remained silent. The funeral was to take place at eleven!
Those words rang in my brain like a passing bell. And the doctor
coming--the doctor of the dead, as Mme Gabin had called him. HE could
not possibly fail to find out that I was only in a state of lethargy;
he would do whatever might be necessary to rouse me, so I longed for his
arrival with feverish anxiety.
The day was drawing to a close. Mme Gabin, anxious to waste no time, had
brought in her lamp shades and summoned Dede without asking Marguerite's
permission. "To tell the truth," she observed, "I do not like to leave
children too long alone."
"Come in, I say," she whispered to the little girl; "come in, and don't
be frightened. Only don't look toward the bed or you'll catch it."
She thought it decorous to forbid Dede to look at me, but I was
convinced that the child was furtively glancing at the corner where
I lay, for every now and then I heard her mother rap her knuckles and
repeat angrily: "Get on with your work or you shall leave the room, and
the gentleman will come during the night and pull you by the feet.
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