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"
But
,
when
it
comes
down
to
it
,
doctor
,
it
’
s
chiefly
a
matter
for
the
concierge
.
"
As
it
happened
the
doctor
found
the
concierge
at
the
entrance
to
the
house
,
leaning
against
the
wall
near
the
front
door
,
with
an
expression
of
weariness
on
his
normally
florid
face
.
"
Yes
,
I
know
,
"
old
Michel
told
Rieux
when
the
latter
mentioned
the
new
discovery
.
"
They
’
re
turning
up
in
twos
and
threes
now
.
But
it
’
s
the
same
in
other
buildings
.
"
He
seemed
worried
and
despondent
.
He
was
rubbing
his
neck
in
a
mechanical
way
.
Rieux
asked
how
he
felt
.
The
concierge
answered
that
,
of
course
,
he
couldn
’
t
say
he
was
ill
,
but
that
,
even
so
,
he
was
not
feeling
quite
himself
.
In
his
view
,
it
was
a
matter
of
morale
.
These
rats
had
been
a
shock
for
him
and
everything
would
be
much
better
once
they
had
gone
.
The
next
morning
,
however
,
April
18
,
the
doctor
was
bringing
his
mother
home
from
the
station
and
found
M
.
Michel
looking
even
more
poorly
:
from
the
cellar
to
the
attic
,
there
were
a
dozen
rats
lying
on
the
stairs
.
The
dustbins
in
the
neighbouring
houses
were
full
of
them
.
The
doctor
’
s
mother
was
not
surprised
when
he
told
her
.
"
Things
like
that
happen
.
"
She
was
a
little
,
silver
-
haired
woman
,
with
soft
,
dark
eyes
.
"
I
’
m
glad
to
see
you
again
,
Bernard
,
"
she
said
.
"
The
rats
can
’
t
change
that
.
"
He
agreed
;
it
was
true
that
with
her
everything
always
seemed
easy
.
