'No, indeed, I will certainly not stop in the room!' she cried. 'I won't look on and see such things. Let her die without me; let her die like a dog! I no longer have any love for her; I have no love for anyone. To send for the poor little fellow to kill him! And I consented to go for him! I shall hate myself for it all my life! He was as white as his nightshirt, the angel! I was obliged to carry him here from the Seminary. I thought he was going to give up the ghost on the way, he cried so. Oh! it's a cruel shame! And there he has gone into the room now to kiss her! It quite makes my flesh creep. I wish the whole house would topple down on our heads and finish us all off at one stroke! I will shut myself up in some hole somewhere, and live quite alone, and never see anyone again—never, never! One's whole life seems made up of things that make one weep and make one angry!'
Macquart entered the room. Madame Rougon was on her knees, burying her face in her hands, and Serge, with tears streaming down his cheeks, was standing by the bedside supporting the head of the dying woman. She had not yet regained consciousness. The last flickering flames of the conflagration cast a ruddy reflection upon the ceiling of the room.
At last a convulsive tremor shook Marthe's body. She opened her eyes with an expression of surprise, and sat up in bed to glance around her. Then she clasped her hands together with a look of unutterable terror, and died even as she caught sight of Serge's cassock in the crimson glow.
THE END.
[NOTES]
[1] See Eugène Tenot's 'La Province en Décembre 1851,' Paris, 1865 (pp. 206 et seq., and 260 et seq.). Also Maquan's 'L'Insurrection du Var,' p. 127.
[2] A glimpse of François Mouret, and Marthe, his wife, is given in 'The Fortune of the Rougons,' pp. 143-4—Ed.
[3] Parish priest.
[4] One of the chief characters of 'The Fortune of the Rougons' and 'Dr. Pascal.'—Ed.