_Mon Dieu!_ was it possible he had a countenance like that, his eyes full of blood and his lips covered with scabs?
She would certainly never have known him.

To begin with, he was making too many grimaces, without saying why, his mouth suddenly out of all shape, his nose curled up, his cheeks drawn in, a perfect animal's muzzle.

His skin was so hot the air steamed around him; and his hide was as though varnished, covered with a heavy sweat which trickled off him.

In his mad dance, one could see all the same that he was not at his ease, his head was heavy and his limbs ached.
Gervaise drew near to the house surgeon, who was strumming a tune with the tips of his fingers on the back of his chair.
"Tell me, sir, it's serious then this time ?" The house surgeon nodded his head without answering.
"Isn't he jabbering to himself?
Eh! don't you hear?
What's it about?
"About things he sees," murmured the young man.

"Keep quiet, let me listen." Coupeau was speaking in a jerky voice.