and thinner, but still
fresh-complexioned, and perhaps still prettier for her additional
delicacy. She murmured: "He is dreadful, do you know; he knows that he

is doomed, and he leads me a fearful life. But where is your
portmanteau?"

"I have left it at the station, not knowing what hotel you would like me
to stop at in order to be near you."

She hesitated a moment, and then said: "You must stay here. Besides,
your room is all ready. He might die at any moment, and if it were to
happen during the night I should be alone. I will send for your
luggage."

He bowed, saying: "As you please."

"Now let us go upstairs," she said.

He followed her. She opened a door on the first floor, and Duroy saw,
wrapped in rugs and seated in an armchair near the window, a kind of
living corpse, livid even under the red light of the setting sun, and
looking towards him. He scarcely recognized, but rather guessed, that it
was his friend. The room reeked of fever, medicated drinks, ether, tar,
the nameless and oppressive odor of a consumptive's sick room. Forestier
held out his hand slowly and with difficulty. "So here you are; you have
come to see me die, then! Thanks."

Duroy affected to laugh. "To see you die? That would not be a very
amusing sight, and I should not select such an occasion to visit Cannes.
I came to give you a look in, and to rest myself a bit."

Forestier murmured, "Sit down," and then bent his head, as though lost
in painful thoughts. He breathed hurriedly and pantingly, and from time
to time gave a kind of groan, as if he wanted to remind the others how
ill he was.

Seeing that he would not speak, his wife came and leaned against the
window-sill, and indicating the view with a motion of her head, said,
"Look! Is not that beautiful?"

Before them the hillside, dotted with villas, sloped downwards towards
the town, which stretched in a half-circle along the shore with its head
to the right in the direction of the pier, overlooked by the old city
surmounted by its belfry, and its feet to the left towards the point of
La Croisette, facing the Isles of Lerins. These two islands appeared
like two green spots amidst the blue water. They seemed to be floating
on it like two huge green leaves, so low and flat did they appear from
this height. Afar off, bounding the view on the other side of the bay,
beyond the pier and the belfry, a long succession of blue hills showed
up against a dazzling sky, their strange an