"I am cold!" she cried. "Why do you put ice on my feet?" and she started up so suddenly that her daughter could not hold her.
"Help me, sir," the girl cried to Sanselme.
He ran to her assistance. He was astonished to see that the woman was not more than thirty-five, but her eyes were haggard, and she bore the marks of precocious old age.
She uttered a shriek so wild and despairing that it curdled the blood in Sanselme's veins, and as he looked her full in the face, he trembled from head to foot.
The doors opened; it was the physician, who looked utterly disgusted that he should have been called to such a place. He entered noisily, without removing his hat, and as he caught sight of the sick woman, looking like an inspired Pythoness, he said roughly:
"Come, now, lie down."
She looked at him with evident terror, and then, docile as a child, she lay down on the bed.
The physician made a rapid examination.
"There is nothing to be done," he said; "this woman is at the end of her rope."
"For Heaven's sake, sir, be quiet!" whispered Sanselme, angrily. "The woman hears you, and you will kill her!"