she saw
distinctly the bare flesh and the little blue flame issuing from it,
lightly dancing, like a flame wandering over the surface of a vessel of
lighted alcohol. It was as yet scarcely higher than the flame of a night
light, pale and soft, and so unstable that the slightest breath of air
caused it to change its place. But it increased and spread rapidly, and
the skin cracked and the fat began to melt.

An involuntary cry escaped from Felicite's throat.

"Macquart! Macquart!"

But still he did not stir. His insensibility must have been complete;
intoxication must have produced a sort of coma, in which there was an
absolute paralysis of sensation, for he was living, his breast could be
seen rising and falling, in slow and even respiration.

"Macquart! Macquart!"

Now the fat was running through the cracks of the skin, feeding the
flame, which was invading the abdomen. And Felicite comprehended vaguely
that Uncle Macquart was burning before her like a sponge soaked with
brandy. He had, indeed, been saturated with it for years past, and
of the strongest and most inflammable kind. He would no doubt soon be
blazing from head to foot, like a bowl of punch.

Then she ceased to try to awaken him, since he was sleeping so soundly.
For a full minute she had the courage to look at him, awe-stricken,
but gradually coming to a determination. Her hands, however, began
to tremble, with a little shiver which she could not control. She was
choking, and taking up the glass of water again with both hands, she
emptied it at a draught. And she was going away on tiptoe, when she
remembered her gloves. She went back, groped for them anxiously on the
table and, as she thought, picked them both up. Then she left the room,
closing the door behind her carefully, and as gently as if she were
afraid of disturbing some one.

When she found herself once more on the terrace, in the cheerful
sunshine and the pure air, in face of the vast horizon bathed in light,
she heaved a sigh of relief. The country was deserted; no one could have
seen her entering or leaving the house. Only the yellow dog was still
stretched there, and he did not even deign to look up. And she went
away with her quick, short step, her youthful figure lightly swaying. A
hundred steps away, an irresistible impulse compelled her to turn round
to give a last look at the house, so tranquil and so cheerful on the
hillside, in the declining light of the beautiful day.

Only