The Mystery of Marseille by Emile Zola (Illustrated) by Emile Zola

Author:Emile Zola [ZOLA, EMILE]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Parts Edition 3 of 39 by Delphi Classics
Publisher: Delphi Classics (Parts Edition)
Published: 2017-07-22T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVI

MADEMOISELLE CLAIRE’S PRAYER-BOOK

MARIUS remained three weeks in bed a prey to violent delirium. He had an attack of acute cerebral fever which brought him to death’s door. His youth, and the tender attention he received, saved him.

One evening, at twilight, he opened his eves with a clear head. It seemed to him that he had issued from profound darkness. He was so weak that he had no feeling in his body; but the fever had disappeared, and his thoughts, which were still vacillating, returned to him.

The curtains were drawn round his bed. A soft, warm light came through the white linen and surrounded him with gentle brightness. The air of the silent room was pervaded with perfume. He raised himself. And at the slight noise he made, he saw a shadow glide behind the curtains.

“Who is there?” he inquired, in a voice that was hardly distinct.

A hand quietly drew aside the curtains, and Fine, seeing Marius sitting up, exclaimed joyfully:

“Heaven be praised! You are saved, my friend.”

And she began to weep. The invalid understood all, and extended his poor thin hands towards the girl.

“Thanks,” he said to her, “I knew you were there. I feel as if I had had a frightful dream; and, I remember now, in the midst of that dream, I saw you bending over me like a mother.”

He let his head fall on the pillow and continued in a childish voice:

“I have been very ill, have I not?”

“All is over, do not let us think of such disagreeable things,” said the flower-girl gaily. “But where had you been to, my friend, the sleeves of your coat were all wet?”

Marius passed his hand across his forehead.

“Oh! I remember,” he exclaimed, “it’s frightful!”

Then he gave Fine an account of the two terrible nights he had passed in the gambling-house. He made her a confession, retracing in detail all he had suffered.

“It’s a terrible lesson,” he remarked, in conclusion. “I doubted and turned to chance. For a moment I shuddered. I fancied I felt all the instincts of the gambler within me. But I’ve been cured with a red-hot iron.”

He stopped and then continued anxiously:

“How long have I been ill?”

“About three weeks,” answered Fine.

“Oh! Heavens! Three weeks lost. We have only about twenty days before us.”

“Do not trouble about that, but get well.”

“Hasn’t M. Martelly sent to inquire about me?”

“Don’t worry yourself, I tell you. I have been to see him and everything is arranged.”

Marius seemed more calm and Fine continued:

“There is only one course to follow, and that is to borrow money of M. Martelly. We should have commenced by that. All will be well. Now, sleep, do not speak; the doctor has forbidden it.”

The convalescence advanced at rapid strides, thanks to Fine’s tender and devoted care. The young girl understood that her smile would now suffice to cure Marius, and each morning, she came with that and her fresh breath which filled the little room with a puff of spring.

“Ah! how nice it is to be ill!” the invalid often repeated.

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