Pascal did not know.  Macquart, as he poured himself out another glass of brandy, explained that he had felt an inclination to drink a little Cognac, and had sent her to fetch a bottle.  She had not been long absent, and at the very moment when she returned she had fallen rigid on the floor without uttering a word.  Macquart himself had carried her to the bed.

“What surprises me,” he said, by way of conclusion, “is, that she did not break the bottle.”

The young doctor reflected.  After a short pause he resumed:  “I heard two shots fired as I came here.  Perhaps those ruffians have been shooting some more prisoners.  If she passed through the ranks of the soldiers at that moment, the sight of blood may have thrown her into this fit.  She must have had some dreadful shock.”

Fortunately he had with him the little medicine-case which he had been carrying about ever since the departure of the insurgents.  He tried to pour a few drops of reddish liquid between aunt Dide’s closely-set teeth, while Macquart again asked his brother:  “Have you got the money?”

“Yes, I’ve brought it; we’ll settle now,” Rougon replied, glad of this diversion.

Thereupon Macquart, seeing that he was about to be paid, began to moan.  He had only learnt the consequence of his treachery when it was too late; otherwise he would have demanded twice or thrice as much.  And he complained bitterly.  Really now a thousand francs was not enough.  His children had forsaken him, he was all alone in the world, and obliged to quit France.  He almost wept as he spoke of his coming exile.

“Come now, will you take the eight hundred francs?” said Rougon, who was in haste to be off.

“No, certainly not; double the sum.  Your wife cheated me.  If she had told me distinctly what it was she expected of me, I would never have compromised myself for such a trifle.”

Rougon laid the eight hundred francs upon the table.

“I swear I haven’t got any more,” he resumed.  “I will think of you later.  But do, for mercy’s sake, get away this evening.”

Macquart, cursing and muttering protests, thereupon carried the table to the window, and began to count the gold in the fading twilight.  The coins tickled the tips of his fingers very pleasantly as he let them fall, and jingled musically in the darkness.  At last he paused for a moment to say:  “You promised to get me a berth, remember.  I want to return to France.  The post of rural guard in some pleasant neighbourhood which I could mention, would just suit me.”

“Very well, I’ll see about it,” Rougon replied.  “Have you got the eight hundred francs?”

Macquart resumed his counting.  The last coins were just clinking when a burst of laughter made them turn their heads.  Aunt Dide was standing up in front of the bed, with her bodice unfastened, her white hair hanging loose, and her face stained with red blotches.  Pascal had in vain endeavoured to hold her down.  Trembling all over, and with her arms outstretched, she shook her head deliriously.