to his mouth as though he were a child.
He gulped down a mouthful, and some of it was spilt on
his shirt-front.

"Who's killed herself?"

I do not know why I asked, for I knew whom he meant. He made
an effort to collect himself.

"They had a row last night. He went away."

"Is she dead?"

"No; they've taken her to the hospital."

"Then what are you talking about?" I cried impatiently. "Why
did you say she'd killed herself?"

"Don't be cross with me. I can't tell you anything if you
talk to me like that."

I clenched my hands, seeking to control my irritation.
I attempted a smile.

"I'm sorry. Take your time. Don't hurry, there's a good
fellow."

His round blue eyes behind the spectacles were ghastly with
terror. The magnifying-glasses he wore distorted them.

"When the concierge went up this morning to take a letter she
could get no answer to her ring. She heard someone groaning.
The door wasn't locked, and she went in. Blanche was lying on
the bed. She'd been frightfully sick. There was a bottle of
oxalic acid on the table."

Stroeve hid his face in his hands and swayed backwards and
forwards, groaning.

"Was she conscious?"

"Yes. Oh, if you knew how she's suffering! I can't bear it.
I can't bear it."

His voice rose to a shriek.

"Damn it all, you haven't got to bear it," I cried impatiently.
"She's got to bear it."

"How can you be so cruel?"

"What have you done?"

"They sent for a doctor and for me, and they told the police.
I'd given the concierge twenty francs, and told her to send
for me if anything happened."

He paused a minute, and I saw that what he had to tell me was
very hard to say.

"When I went she wouldn't speak to me. She told them to send
me away. I swore that I forgave her everything, but she
wouldn't listen. She tried to beat her head against the wall.
The doctor told me that I mustn't remain with her. She kept
on saying, 'Send him away!' I went, and waited in the studio.
And when the ambulance came and they put her on a stretcher,
they made me go in the kitchen so that she shouldn't know I
was there."

While I dressed -- for Stroeve wished me to go at once with
him to the hospital -- he told me that he had arranged for his
wife to have a private room, so that she might at least be
spared the sordid promiscuity of a ward. On our way he
explained to me why he desired my presence; if she still
refused to see him, perhaps she would see me. He beg