She was so yellow, so wrinkled and so thin, that one thought when one looked at her:
"Good heavens, how can our poor lady continue to exist in such a condition!"
And her hair, formerly gray, now white as snow, her hollow cheeks, her eyes glittering, and a forehead all shrivelled with wrinkles, made her, so to speak, unrecognisable.
The doctor questioned her; she answered very well to all his questions. He listened with his ear at her chest, and then at her back, while I held her up. At last he said, smiling:
"Well, well, grandmother, we are not yet in danger. This bad cold will pass away with the winter; only you must keep yourself warm, and not give way to sad thoughts. You will soon return to the forest house; all this cannot last."
"Yes, yes," said she, looking at us. "I hope that all will come right; but I am very old."
"Bah! when one has kept up like you, is one old? All this has been caused by a draught; you must take care of draughts, Mlle. Marie-Rose. Come, keep up your courage, grandmother."
So said the doctor; the grandmother seemed a little reassured.
We left the room, and outside, when I was questioning him and my daughter was listening, Dr. Simperlin asked me:
"Shall I speak before Mlle. Marie-Rose?"