Cimme fell asleep, his well-rounded paunch bathed
in the glow of the shining sun.
The dying woman once more began to talk in a loud
voice. Then suddenly she shrieked.
The two women and Colombel rushed in to see what was
the matter. Cimme, waking up, did not budge,
because, he did not wish to witness such a scene.
She was sitting up, with haggard eyes. Her dog,
in order to escape being pursued by little Joseph,
had jumped up on the bed, run over the sick woman,
and entrenched behind the pillow, was looking down
at his playmate with snapping eyes, ready to jump
down and begin the game again. He was holding
in his mouth one of his mistress’ slippers, which
he had torn to pieces and with which he had been playing
for the last hour.
The child, frightened by this woman who had suddenly
risen in front of him, stood motionless before the
bed.
The hen had also come in, and frightened by the noise,
had jumped up on a chair and was wildly calling her
chicks, who were chirping distractedly around the
four legs of the chair.
Queen Hortense was shrieking:
“No, no, I don’t want to die, I don’t
want to! I don’t want to! Who will
bring up my children? Who will take care of them?
Who will love them? No, I don’t want to!—I
don’t——”
She fell back. All was over.
The dog, wild with excitement, jumped about the room,
barking.
Colombel ran to the window, calling his brother-in-law:
“Hurry up, hurry up! I think that she has
just gone.”
Then Cimme, resigned, arose and entered the room,
mumbling
“It didn’t take as long as I thought it
would!”
The boulevard, that river of humanity, was alive with
people in the golden light of the setting sun.
The whole sky was red, blinding, and behind the Madeleine
an immense bank of flaming clouds cast a shower of
light the whole length of the boulevard, vibrant as
the heat from a brazier.
The gay, animated crowd went by in this golden mist
and seemed to be glorified. Their faces were
gilded, their black hats and clothes took on purple
tints, the patent leather of their shoes cast bright
reflections on the asphalt of the sidewalk.
Before the cafes a mass of men were drinking opalescent
liquids that looked like precious stones dissolved
in the glasses.
In the midst of the drinkers two officers in full
uniform dazzled all eyes with their glittering gold
lace. They chatted, happy without asking why,
in this glory of life, in this radiant light of sunset,
and they looked at the crowd, the leisurely men and
the hurrying women who left a bewildering odor of
perfume as they passed by.
All at once an enormous negro, dressed in black, with
a paunch beneath his jean waistcoat, which was covered
with charms, his face shining as if it had been polished,
passed before them with a triumphant air. He
laughed at the passers-by, at the news venders, at
the dazzling sky, at the whole of Paris. He was
so tall that he overtopped everyone else, and when
he passed all the loungers turned round to look at
his back.
