The man servant opened the door, and exclaimed: "Oh! Sir, madame is expecting you most impatiently."
"How is your master?" inquired Duroy.
"Not at all well, sir. He cannot last much longer."
The drawing-room, into which George was shown, was hung with pink and blue chintz. The tall and wide windows overlooked the town and the sea. Duroy muttered: "By Jove, this is nice and swell for a country house. Where the deuce do they get the money from?"
The rustle of a dress made him turn round. Madame Forestier held out both hands to him. "How good of you to come, how good of you to come," said she.
And suddenly she kissed him on the cheek. Then they looked at one another. She was somewhat paler and thinner, but still fresh-complexioned, and perhaps still prettier for her additional delicacy. She murmured: "He is dreadful, do you know; he knows that he is doomed, and he leads me a fearful life. But where is your portmanteau?"
"I have left it at the station, not knowing what hotel you would like me to stop at in order to be near you."
She hesitated a moment, and then said: "You must stay here. Besides, your room is all ready. He might die at any moment, and if it were to happen during the night I should be alone. I will send for your luggage."
He bowed, saying: "As you please."
"Now let us go upstairs," she said.