He raised the eyelid, and the old woman’s looks reappeared under his finger, and were altogether unaltered, unless, perhaps, the pupil was rather larger, and Caravan felt a severe shock at the sight.  Then Monsieur Chenet took her thin arm, forced the fingers open, and said, angrily, as if he had been contradicted: 

“Just look at her hand; I never make a mistake, you may be quite sure of that.”

Caravan fell on the bed, and almost bellowed, while his wife, still whimpering, did what was necessary.

She brought the night-table, on which she spread a table napkin, and placed four wax candles on it, which she lighted; then she took a sprig of box, which was hanging over the chimney glass, and put it between the candles, into the plate, which she filled with clean water, as she had no holy water.  But, after a moment’s rapid reflection, she threw a pinch of salt into the water, no doubt, thinking she was performing some sort of act of consecration by doing that, and when she had finished, she remained standing motionless, and the medical man, who had been helping her, whispered to her: 

“We must take Caravan away.”

She nodded assent, and, going up to her husband, who was still on his knees, sobbing, she raised him up by one arm, while Chenet took him by the other.

They put him into a chair, and his wife kissed his forehead, and then began to lecture him.  Chenet enforced her words, and preached firmness, courage, and resignation—­the very things which are always wanting in such overwhelming misfortunes—­and then both of them took him by the arms again and led him out.

He was crying like a great child, with convulsive hiccoughs; his arms were hanging down, and his legs seemed useless, and he went downstairs without knowing what he was doing, and moving his legs mechanically.  They put him into the chair which he always occupied at dinner, in front of his empty soup plate.  And there he sat, without moving, with his eyes fixed on his glass, and so stupefied with grief, that he could not even think.

In a corner, Madame Caravan was talking with the doctor, and asking what the necessary formalities were, as she wanted to obtain practical information.  At last, Monsieur Chenet, who appeared to be waiting for something, took up his hat and prepared to go, saying that he had not dined yet; whereupon, she exclaimed:—­

“What! you have not dined?  But stop here, doctor; don’t go.  You shall have whatever we can give you, for, of course, you will understand that we do not fare sumptuously.”  However, he made excuses and refused, but she persisted, and said:—­

“You really must stop; at times like this, people like to have friends near them, and, besides that, perhaps you will be able to persuade my husband to take some nourishment; he must keep up his strength.”

The doctor bowed, and, putting down his hat, he said:—­

“In that case, I will accept your invitation, Madame.”