He took to his bed several times; he rolled himself up and hid himself under the sheet, breathing hard and continuously like a suffering animal.

Then the strange scenes of Sainte-Anne began again.

Suspicious and nervous, worried with a burning fever, he rolled about in a mad rage, tearing his blouse and biting the furniture with his convulsed jaws; or else he sank into a great state of emotion, complaining like a child, sobbing and lamenting because nobody loved him.

One night when Gervaise and Nana returned home together they were surprised not to find him in his bed.

He had laid the bolster in his place.