"Oh! Juliette! Juliette!"
My chest was burning, I felt the sensation of boiling lava swirling in my head. My thoughts were in confusion, turning into hallucinations. Along the walls of my bedroom weasels were chasing one another, jumping, abandoning themselves to obscene frolics. I was hoping that I would succumb to fever, that it would chain me to my bed, that it would cause my death. To be sick! Ah! . . yes, to be sick, long, forever! I had visions of Juliette installing herself in my room. She nursed me, she lifted my head to make me take medicine, she saw the doctor to the door, while talking to him in a low voice, and the doctor had a grave air.
"No! No! Madame, not all is lost yet. Calm yourself."
"Ah! Doctor, save him, save my Jean!"
"Only you can save him, because it is on account of you that he is dying!"
"Ah! What can I do? . . . Tell me, doctor, please!"
"You must love him, you must be good to him."
And Juliette threw herself into the arms of the physician:
"No! It's you I love! . . . Come!"
She dragged him, clinging to his lips. . and in the bedroom they danced and jumped to the ceiling and fell on my bed, enlaced.
"Die, my Jean, please die! Ah! Why does it take you so long to die?"
I fell into a slumber. When I awoke it was broad daylight. Buses were again rolling on the street, hawkers were screaming out their morning yells; I heard the scratching of a broom sweeping against my door in the hallway where people were passing.
I went out, and proceeded in the direction of the
