"
And then he moved away. It was like my life departing. Screams, sobs
and insults were choking me, struggling in my convulsed throat, in which
even my breath was arrested. The wretch! Turned into a mere machine
by professional habits, he only came to a deathbed to accomplish a
perfunctory formality; he knew nothing; his science was a lie, since
he could not at a glance distinguish life from death--and now he was
going--going!
"Good night, sir," said Simoneau.
There came a moment's silence; the doctor was probably bowing to
Marguerite, who had turned while Mme Gabin was fastening the window. He
left the room, and I heard his footsteps descending the stairs.
It was all over; I was condemned. My last hope had vanished with that
man. If I did not wake before eleven on the morrow I should be
buried alive. The horror of that thought was so great that I lost all
consciousness of my surroundings--'twas something like a fainting fit in
death. The last sound I heard was the clicking of the scissors handled
by Mme Gabin and Dede. The funeral vigil had begun; nobody spoke.
Marguerite had refused to retire to rest in the neighbor's room. She
remained reclining in her armchair, with her beautiful face pale, her
eyes closed and her long lashes wet with tears, while before her in the
gloom Simoneau sat silently watching her.
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