“No, no,” she said, almost in a whisper,
and in a hoarse and suppliant voice, “no, dear,
not there, not there, you must not go in there.”
“Why?” he said, for his wish to go in
had only become stronger.
“Because if you go in there, you will have no
inclination to remain with me, and I so want you to
stay. If you only knew!”
“Well, what?” And with a violent movement,
he opened the glazed door, when the smell of carbolic
acid seemed almost to strike him in the face, but
what he saw, made him recoil still more, for on a small
iron bedstead, lay the dead body of a woman fantastically
illuminated by a single wax candle, and in horror
he turned to make his escape.
“Stop, my dear,” the woman sobbed; and
clinging to him, she told him amidst a flood of tears,
that her friend had died two days previously, and
that there was no money to bury her. “Because,”
she said, “you can understand that I want it
to be a respectable funeral, we were so very fond
of each other! Stop here, my dear, do stop.
I only want ten francs more. Don’t go away.”
They had gone back into the bedroom, and she was pushing
him towards the bed:
“No,” he said, “let me go.
I will give you the ten francs, but I will not stay
here; I cannot.”
He took his purse out of his pocket, extracted a ten-franc
piece, put it on the table, and then went to the door;
but when he had reached it, a thought suddenly struck
him, as if somebody were reasoning with him, without
his knowledge.
“Why lose these ten francs? Why not profit
by this woman’s good intentions. She certainly
did her business bravely, and if I had not known about
the matter, I should certainly not have gone away for
some time ... Well then?”
But other obscurer suggestions whispered to him:
“She was her friend! ... They were so fond
of each other! Was it friendship or love?
Oh! love apparently. Well, it would surely be
avenging morality, if this woman were forced to be
faithless to that monstrous love?” And suddenly
the man turned round and said in a low and trembling
voice: “Look here! If I give you twenty
francs instead of ten, I suppose you could buy some
flowers for her, as well?”
The unhappy woman’s face brightened with pleasure
and gratitude.
“Will you really give me twenty?”
“Yes,” he replied, “and more perhaps.
It quite depends upon yourself.”
And with the quiet conscience of an honorable man
who, at the same time, is not a fool he said gravely:
“You need only be very complaisant.”
And he added, mentally: “Especially as
I deserve it, as in giving you twenty francs I am
performing a good action.”
“Really,” Paul repeated, “really!”
“Yes, I who am here before you have been violated,
and violated by!... But if I were to tell you
immediately by whom, there would be no story, eh?
And as you want a story, eh? And as you want a
story, I will tell you all about it from beginning
to end, and I shall begin at the beginning.
