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For his part, he would have thrown open to the young physician his house, his purse, and his heart. "No, no," she answered quickly. "There has never been anything between us but affection and frankness. I think I gave him a great deal of pain, but he has forgiven me. You are right; we have no other friend. It is to Ramond that we must apply." Ill luck pursued them, however.
Then Martine, who had listened to him in open-mouthed wonder, confessed the falsehood she had told him, ignorant of the good news that had been brought by Ramond. "Monsieur, you must forgive me; I told you an untruth. But it would be wrong to deceive you longer. When I saw you alone and so unhappy, I took some of my own money." "My poor girl, you did that!"
They went on talking, Felicite treating her as a confidante, as a devoted daughter, one of the family, to whom she could tell everything. She began by questioning her; she wished to know if Dr. Ramond had come that morning. He had come, but they had talked only about indifferent matters.
The train that was passing now was the one going to the Tulettes; the other, the one coming from Marseilles, would it never arrive, then! At twenty minutes to four Pascal signed to Ramond to approach. He could no longer speak loud enough to be heard. "You see, in order that I might live until six o'clock, the pulse should be stronger.
Thus it was that an intimacy, a sort of comradeship, had sprung up among the three. "You shall have your notes to-morrow, I promise you," she said, smiling. Ramond walked on with them, however, until they reached the end of the Rue de la Banne, at the entrance of the old quarter whither they were going.
Ramond had come only the day before to make her that she would see if there remained among this debris any fragment of importance having a scientific interest. He was inconsolable for the loss of the precious manuscripts which the master had bequeathed to him.
He fixed his eyes on the young man as he spoke, compelling him to look at him. Ramond evaded a direct answer, however, with a jest was it really a physician who put such a question? "Let us be serious, Ramond, I beg of you." Then Ramond answered in all sincerity that, in his opinion, the doctor might very justly entertain the hope of living another year.
Ramond will have the right to be angry." She went over to her desk, to arrange some papers which were on it. Then, after a moment's silence, she said: "It is odd; now you are siding with grandmother and Martine. They, too, are persecuting me to end this matter. I thought I had a few days more. But, in truth, if you all three urge me "
And then who could say that he had died in vain, troubled and weary, his hopes concerning the injections unrealized other workers would come, young, ardent, confident, who would take up the idea, elucidate it, expand it. And perhaps a new epoch, a new world would date from this. "Ah, my dear Ramond," he continued, "if one could only live life over again.
But the doctor, naturally, did not prefer his request, and contented himself with saying, in explanation of his visit, that he had missed Ramond. When they were in the street again, Pascal and Clotilde felt themselves once more abandoned and alone. Where now should they turn? What new effort should they make? And they walked on again aimlessly.
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