"In the cupboard."
He took the light, and led me to the further end of the room towards the little girl's crib.
She lay panting, with emaciated cheeks, glistening eyes, and tangled hair, a pitiable sight. At each breath, deep hollows could be seen in her thin strained neck. Stretched out on her back, she convulsively clutched with both hands the rags that covered her, and directly she caught sight of us, she turned her face away, and hid herself in the straw.
I took hold of her shoulders, and the doctor, forcing her to open her mouth, pulled out of her throat a long white strip of skin, which seemed to me as dry as a bit of leather.
Her breathing immediately became easier, and she drank a little. The mother raising herself on her elbow watched us. She stammered out:
"Is it done?"
"Yes, it's done."
"Are we going to be left all alone?"
A terror, a terrible terror shook her voice, the terror of solitude, of loneliness, of darkness, and of death that she felt so near to her.
I answered: