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Forestier
asked
:
"
Is
there
anything
new
at
the
office
?
"
"
Nothing
.
They
have
taken
little
Lacrin
of
the
'
Voltaire
'
to
fill
your
place
,
but
he
is
incapable
.
It
is
time
you
came
back
.
"
The
invalid
muttered
:
"
I
?
I
will
soon
be
writing
under
six
feet
of
sod
.
"
A
long
silence
ensued
.
Mme.
Forestier
did
not
stir
;
she
stood
with
her
back
to
the
room
,
her
face
toward
the
window
.
At
length
Forestier
broke
the
silence
in
a
gasping
voice
,
heartrending
to
listen
to
:
"
How
many
more
sunsets
shall
I
see
--
eight
--
ten
--
fifteen
--
twenty
--
or
perhaps
thirty
--
no
more
.
You
have
more
time
,
you
two
--
as
for
me
--
all
is
at
an
end
.
And
everything
will
go
on
when
I
am
gone
as
if
I
were
here
.
"
He
paused
a
few
moments
,
then
continued
:
"
Everything
that
I
see
reminds
me
that
I
shall
not
see
them
long
.
It
is
horrible
.
I
shall
no
longer
see
the
smallest
objects
--
the
glasses
--
the
dishes
--
the
beds
on
which
we
rest
--
the
carriages
.
It
is
fine
to
drive
in
the
evening
.
How
I
loved
all
that
.
"
Again
Norbert
de
Varenne
's
words
occurred
to
Duroy
.
The
room
grew
dark
.
Forestier
asked
irritably
:
"
Are
we
to
have
no
lamp
to-night
?
That
is
what
is
called
caring
for
an
invalid
!
"
The
form
outlined
against
the
window
disappeared
and
an
electric
bell
was
heard
to
ring
.
A
servant
soon
entered
and
placed
a
lamp
upon
the
mantel-piece
.
Mme.
Forestier
asked
her
husband
:
"
Do
you
wish
to
retire
,
or
will
you
go
downstairs
to
dinner
?
"
"
I
will
go
down
to
dinner
.
"
The
meal
seemed
to
Duroy
interminable
,
for
there
was
no
conversation
,
only
the
ticking
of
a
clock
broke
the
silence
.
When
they
had
finished
,
Duroy
,
pleading
fatigue
,
retired
to
his
room
and
tried
in
vain
to
invent
some
pretext
for
returning
home
as
quickly
as
possible
.
He
consoled
himself
by
saying
:
"
Perhaps
it
will
not
be
for
long
.
"
