"Where are you?" if one may ask.
"I could almost swear that I was shut up in an old Egyptian mummy"—he glanced at the bed and his immovable body:
"There is no life left in it," he said.
"You have more life than any of us," said a voice beside them. Clerambault looked up and saw on the other side of the couch a tall young man full of health and strength, who seemed to be about the same age as Edmé, who smiled and said to Clerambault: "My friend Chastenay has enough vitality to lend me some and to spare."
"If that were only literally true," said the other, and the two friends exchanged an affectionate glance. Chastenay continued:
"I should in that case only be giving back a part of what I owe you." Then turning to Clerambault, he added: "He is the one who keeps us all up, is it not so, Madame Fanny?"
"Indeed yes, I could not do without my strong son," said the mother tenderly.
"They take advantage of the fact that I cannot defend myself," said
Edmé to Clerambault. "You see I cannot stir an inch."
"Was it a wound?"
"Paralysis."—Clerambault did not dare to ask for details, but after a pause: "Do you suffer much?" he inquired.