Columbel, who kept changing the position of his lame leg every moment, murmured: “She is dreaming that she has children and a husband; the end is near.”
The two sisters did not move, but seemed surprised and stunned.
The little maid said: “Will you take off your hats and your shawls, and go into the other room?”
They went out without having said a word. And Columbel followed them limping, leaving the dying woman alone again.
When they were relieved of their outer garments, the women seated themselves. Then one of the cats left the window, stretched herself, jumped into the room, then upon the knees of Madame Cimme, who began to caress her.
They heard from the next room the voice of the dying woman, living, without doubt, in this last hour, the life she had wished for, pouring out her dreams at the very moment when all would be finished for her.
Cimme, in the garden, played with little Joseph and the dog, enjoying himself, with all the gaiety of a fat man in the country, without a thought for the dying woman.
But suddenly he entered, and addressed the maid: “I say, my girl, are you going to give us some lunch? What are you going to eat, ladies?”
They decided upon an omelet of fine herbs, a piece of fillet with new potatoes, cheese, and a cup of coffee.
And as Madame Columbel was fumbling in her pocket for her purse Cimme stopped her, and turning to the maid said, “You must have some money?” and she answered: “Yes, sir.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen francs.”
“That’s enough. Make haste, now, my girl, because I am getting hungry.”
Madame Cimme, looking out at the climbing flowers bathed in the sunlight, and at two pigeons making love on the roof opposite, said, with a heartbroken air: “It is unfortunate to have come for so sad an event. It would be nice in the country, today.”
Her sister sighed without answering, and Columbel murmured, moved perhaps by the thought of a walk:
“My leg plagues me awfully.”
Little Joseph and the dog made a terrible noise, one shouting with joy and the other barking violently. They played at hide-and-seek around the three flowerbeds, running after each other like mad.
The dying woman continued to call her children, chatting with each, imagining that she was dressing them, that she caressed them, that she was teaching them to read: “Come, Simon, repeat, A, B, C, D. You do not say it well; see, D, D, D, do you hear? Repeat, now …”
Cimme declared: “It is extraordinary the things one talks about at such times.”
Then said Madame Columbel: “It would be better, perhaps, to go in there.”
But Cimme dissuaded her from it:
“Why go in, since we are not able to do anything for her? Besides we are as well off here.”
No one insisted. Madame observed the two green birds called inseparable. She remarked pleasantly upon this singular fidelity, and blamed men for not imitating these little creatures. Cimme looked at his wife and laughed, singing with a bantering air, “Tra-la-la, Tra-la-la,” as if to say he could tell some things about his own fidelity.
Columbel, taken with cramps in his stomach, struck the floor with his cane. The other cat entered, its tail in the air. They did not sit down at table until one o’clock.
When he had tasted the wine, Columbel, who could drink only choice Bordeaux, called the servant:
“I say, is there nothing better than this in the cellar?”
“Yes, sir; there is some of the wine that was served when you used to come here.”
“Oh, well, go and bring three bottles.”
They tasted this wine, which seemed excellent. Not that it was of a remarkable vintage, but it had been fifteen years in the cellar. Cimme declared it was real wine for invalids.
Columbel, seized with a desire to possess this Bordeaux, asked of the maid: “How much is left of it, my girl?”
“Oh, nearly all, sir; Mademoiselle never drank any of it. It is at the bottom of the cellar.”
Then Columbel turned toward his brother-in-law: “If you wish, Cimme, I will take this wine in exchange for something else; it agrees with my stomach wonderfully.”
The hen, in her turn, had entered with her troop of chicks; the two women amused themselves by throwing crumbs to them. Joseph and the dog were sent back into the garden, as they had eaten enough.
Queen Hortense spoke continually, but in a whisper now, so that it was no longer possible to distinguish the words.
When they had finished the coffee, they all went in to learn the condition of the sick woman. She seemed calm.
They went out and seated themselves in a circle in the garden, to digest their food.
Presently the dog began to run around the chairs with all speed, carrying something in his mouth. The child ran wildly after him. Both disappeared into the house. Cimme fell asleep, with his stomach in the sun.
The dying woman began to speak loudly again. Then suddenly she shouted.
The two women and Columbel hastened in to see what had happened. Cimme awakened but did not move, as he did not care for such things.
The dying woman was sitting up, staring with haggard eyes. Her dog, to escape the pursuit of little Joseph, had jumped upon the bed, and across the dying woman. Entrenched behind the pillow, he was peeping at his comrade with eyes glistening, ready to jump again at the least movement. He held in his mouth one of the slippers of his mistress, all torn by his teeth, as he had been playing with it for an hour.
The child, intimidated by the woman rising so suddenly before him, stood motionless before the bed.
The hen, which had also entered, had jumped upon a chair, frightened by the noise, and was desperately calling to her chicks, which were peeping, frightened, from under the four legs of the chair.
Queen Hortense cried out in piercing tones: “No, no, I do not wish to die! I don’t want to! Who will bring up my
