Pécuchet, without moving an inch, his chin just touching the top of the ditch, stared at them in breathless astonishment.
"Come, no swooning," said Gorju. "You'll only have me missing the coach. A glorious bit of devilment is getting ready, and I'm in the swim; so just give me ten sous to stand the conductor a drink."
She took five francs out of her purse. "You will soon give them back to me. Have a little patience. He has been a good while paralysed. Think of that! And, if you liked, we could go to the chapel of Croix-Janval, and there, my love, I would swear before the Blessed Virgin to marry you as soon as he is dead."
"Ah! he'll never die—that husband of yours."
Gorju had turned on his heel. She caught hold of him again, and clinging to his shoulders:
"Let me go with you. I will be your servant. You want some one. But don't go away! don't leave me! Death rather! Kill me!"
She crawled towards him on her knees, trying to seize his hands in order to kiss them. Her cap fell off, then her comb, and her hair got dishevelled. It was turning white around her ears, and, as she looked up at him, sobbing bitterly, with red eyes and swollen lips, he got quite exasperated, and pushed her back.
"Be off, old woman! Good evening."
When she had got up, she tore off the gold cross that hung round her neck, and flinging it at him, cried:
"There, you ruffian!"