The little flickering lamp-flame threw reflections and shadows on her red petticoat.
"Is it not too warm here?" I said, because I felt a slight suffocation.
The room really was very hot. In a corner, over a red-hot fire, some swaddling-clothes had been placed to warm. The hissing of boiling water could also be heard. From time to time the windows were rattled by the whistling, howling wind.
"Do you hear how furious the wind is?" murmured my mother.
I became inattentive to all other sounds. I listened to the wind with anxious interest. Several shudders ran through my bones, as if a stream of cold had penetrated me. I walked toward the window. On opening the inner shutters my fingers trembled. I leaned my forehead against the icy glass and looked out, but the mist suddenly produced by my breath prevented my seeing anything. I raised my eyes, and saw through the upper window the scintillation of the starry sky.
"It is a clear night," I said, leaving the window.
Within me I had a vision of the homicidal night, clear as a diamond, while my eyes wandered toward Raymond, who was still feeding.
"Has Juliana eaten anything this evening?" asked my mother of me in an affectionate tone.
"Yes," I answered rather harshly.
And I thought: