ll be in time.

I endeavored to ascertain who was in the room and what was going on
there. Dede must have been playing on the landing, for once when the
door opened I heard her shrill childish laughter outside. Simoneau must
have retired, for nothing indicated his presence. Mme Gabin's slipshod
tread was still audible over the floor. At last she spoke.

"Come, my dear," she said. "It is wrong of you not to take it while it
is hot. It would cheer you up."

She was addressing Marguerite, and a slow trickling sound as of
something filtering indicated that she had been making some coffee.

"I don't mind owning," she continued, "that I needed it. At my age
sitting up IS trying. The night seems so dreary when there is a
misfortune in the house. DO have a cup of coffee, my dear--just a drop."

She persuaded Marguerite to taste it.

"Isn't it nice and hot?" she continued, "and doesn't it set one up? Ah,
you'll be wanting all your strength presently for what you've got to go
through today. Now if you were sensible you'd step into my room and just
wait there."

"No, I want to stay here," said Marguerite resolutely.

Her voice, which I had not heard since the previous evening, touched me
strangely. It was changed, broken as by tears. To feel my dear wife near
me was a last consolation. I knew that her eyes were fastened on me and
that she was weeping with all the anguish of her heart.

The minutes flew by. An inexplicable noise sounded from beyond the door.
It seemed as if some people were bringing a bulky piece of furniture
upstairs and knocking against the walls as they did so. Suddenly I
understood, as I heard Marguerite begin to sob; it was the coffin.

"You are too early," said Mme Gabin crossly. "Put it behind the bed."

What o'clock was it? Nine, perhaps. So the coffin had come. Amid the
opaque night around me I could see it plainly, quite new, with roughly
planed boards. Heavens! Was this the end then? Was I to be borne off in
that box which I realized was lying at my feet?

However, I had one supreme joy. Marguerite, in spite of her weakness,
insisted upon discharging all the last offices. Assisted by the old
woman, she dressed me with all the tenderness of a wife and a sister.
Once more I felt myself in her arms as she clothed me in various
garments. She paused at times, overcome by grief; she clasped me
convulsively, and her tears rained on my face. Oh, how I longed
to return her embrace and cry, "I live!"