It chanced that our faces met, and my lips gathered the wonderful savor of her tears! * * * * * * The room fills with lamentation; there is a continuous sound of deep sighing.

It is overrun by neighbors become friends, to whom no one pays attention.
And now, in this sacred homelet, where death still bleeds, I cannot prevent a heavy heart-beat in me towards the girl who is prostrated like the rest, but who reigns there, in spite of me--of herself--of everything.

I feel myself agitated by an obscure and huge rapture--the birth of my flesh and my vitals among these shadows.

Beside this poor creature who was so blended with me, and who is falling, falling, through a hell of eternity, I am uplifted by a sort of hope.
I want to fix my attention on the fixity of the bed.

I put my hand over my eyes to shut out all thought save of the dead woman, defenseless already, reclining on that earth into which she will sink.
But my looks, impelled by superhuman curiosity, escape between my fingers to this other woman, half revealed to me in the tumult of sorrow, and my eyes cannot come out of her.
Madame Piot has changed the candles and attached a band to support the dead woman's chin.