'I thought that you and Abbé Faujas were the best of friends.'
She made no reply, but stepped up to Marthe, whose breathing was now becoming more difficult. When she left the bedside again, she saw Macquart pulling one of the curtains aside and peering out into the dark night, while rubbing the moist window-pane with his hand.
'Don't go away to-morrow without coming and talking to me,' she said to him. 'I want to have all this cleared up.'
'Just as you like,' he replied. 'You are very difficult to please. First you like people, and then you don't like them. I always keep on in the same regular easy-going way.'
He was evidently very much vexed to find that the Rougons no longer made common cause with Abbé Faujas. He tapped the window with the tips of his fingers, and still kept his eyes on the black night. Just at that moment the sky was reddened by a sudden glow.
'What is that?' asked Félicité.
Macquart opened the window and looked out.
'It looks like a fire,' he said unconcernedly. 'There is something burning behind the Sub-Prefecture.'
There were sounds of commotion on the Place. A servant came into the room with a scared look and told them that the house of madame's daughter was on fire. It was believed, he continued, that madame's son-in-law, he whom they had been obliged to shut up, had been seen walking about the garden carrying a burning vine-branch. The most unfortunate part of the matter was that there seemed no hope of saving the lodgers. Félicité turned sharply round, and pondered for a minute, keeping her eyes fixed on Macquart. Then she clearly understood everything.