"No."
He took me into the dining-room, which had been transformed into a sick-room. She was lying on a couch, stiff, haggard; her hair was falling over her shoulders, her eyes glowed like red-hot coals. She moved her hand, and her husband put it into mine. Then he returned into the drawing-room and left us by ourselves. My heart remained unmoved; I did not trust my eyes; the unusual spectacle roused my suspicions.
"Do you know that I nearly died?"
"Yes."
"And you don't feel sorry?"
"Oh yes!"
"You are not moved, you have no look of sympathy, no look of commiseration."
"You have your husband!"
"Hasn't he himself brought us together?"
"What are you suffering from?"