Her voice, which I had not heard since the previous evening, touched me
strangely. It was changed, broken as by tears. To feel my dear wife near
me was a last consolation. I knew that her eyes were fastened on me and
that she was weeping with all the anguish of her heart.
The minutes flew by. An inexplicable noise sounded from beyond the door.
It seemed as if some people were bringing a bulky piece of furniture
upstairs and knocking against the walls as they did so. Suddenly I
understood, as I heard Marguerite begin to sob; it was the coffin.
"You are too early," said Mme Gabin crossly. "Put it behind the bed."
What o'clock was it? Nine, perhaps. So the coffin had come. Amid the
opaque night around me I could see it plainly, quite new, with roughly
planed boards. Heavens! Was this the end then? Was I to be borne off in
that box which I realized was lying at my feet?
However, I had one supreme joy. Marguerite, in spite of her weakness,
insisted upon discharging all the last offices. Assisted by the old
woman, she dressed me with all the tenderness of a wife and a sister.
Once more I felt myself in her arms as she clothed me in various
garments. She paused at times, overcome by grief; she clasped me
convulsively, and her tears rained on my face.
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