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"
I
promise
.
"
The
other
man
twisted
his
face
into
a
smile
.
"
Thank
you
.
I
don
’
t
want
to
die
and
I
shall
fight
.
But
if
the
struggle
is
lost
,
I
want
to
make
a
good
end
.
"
Rieux
bent
down
and
squeezed
his
shoulder
.
"
No
,
"
he
said
.
"
To
become
a
saint
,
you
have
to
live
Fight
it
"
During
the
day
the
cold
,
which
had
started
sharp
,
slackened
a
little
and
gave
way
in
the
afternoon
to
violent
downpours
of
rain
and
hail
At
dusk
the
sky
cleared
a
little
and
the
cold
became
more
penetrating
.
Rieux
went
back
home
in
the
evening
.
Without
taking
off
his
coat
he
went
to
his
friend
’
s
room
.
His
mother
was
knitting
.
Tarrou
seemed
not
to
have
moved
,
but
his
lips
,
whitened
by
the
fever
,
spoke
of
the
struggle
that
he
was
having
to
endure
.
"
Well
?
"
asked
the
doctor
.
Tarrou
raised
his
thick
shoulders
a
little
out
of
the
bed
.
"
Well
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
’
m
losing
.
"
