"Perhaps it is an epileptic fit," said Monsieur Bargemont, coughing; he was catching cold standing on the staircase.
She protested:
"We cannot leave a sick man without doing something for him. Go and wake Rosalie."
He remounted the stairs, grumbling. Meantime Jean had got to his feet and was standing with averted head.
She said to him in a low tone:
"So you love me still?"
He looked at her with an indescribable sadness:
"No, I don't love you any longer"—and he staggered down the stairs.
Monsieur Bargemont reappeared:
"It's very curious," he said, "but I can't make Rosalie hear."