thing.⦠It would be enough to get him arrested, and heâd blame me again.â¦â
She could not keep still, she was walking ceaselessly to and fro in the confined space of the bedroom.
âWhat do you feel?â
âI donât know.⦠Iâm frightened.⦠If only I could be sick.â¦â
He didnât know, either. The idea of leaving her and rushing off to a pharmacy to get an emetic did not occur to him, or rather it seemed too complicated.
âHow many tablets have you taken?â
She flared up, infuriated by his uselessness and perhaps by the absurdity of his appearance.
âHow should I know? What was left in the bottle ⦠six or seven.⦠Iâm cold.â¦â
She flung her coat over her shoulders and glanced at the door, as though tempted to go and seek help elsewhere.
âTo think he left me â¦â
âListen. Iâm willing to try.⦠I did it once before, when my daughter had swallowed a â¦â
They were both equally incoherent, and to top it all, the people on the third floor, assuming that the original scene was still going on, banged on the floor to demand silence.
âCome here.⦠Open your mouth.⦠Let me â¦â
âYouâre hurting me.â
âThatâs nothing.⦠Wait a minute.â¦â
He was looking for something with which to tickle the back of her throat, and his inexperience was such that he almost used his own handkerchief. She had one in her hand, a tiny one screwed up into a tight ball, which he unfolded and rolled into a tapered twist.
âOh, youâre choking me.⦠Oh!â
He was obliged to hold her head in a firm grip, and was surprised at the slightness of her skull.
âRelax.⦠My daughter was just the same.⦠There! Just another minute ⦠Dâyou feel it coming?â
Spasms shook her chest, and suddenly she vomited, without noticing that part of her vomit hit the stranger. Tears filled her eyes and prevented her from seeing. She was vomiting reddish stuff, and he held her by the shoulders, encouraging her like a child:
âThere! ⦠There! ⦠You see youâll feel better.⦠Go on.⦠Donât hold it back. On the contrary, let yourself go.â¦â
She was looking at him through blurred eyes, like an animal that has had a bone removed from its throat.
âDoes your stomach feel empty yet? ⦠Let me try once more.⦠Itâd be wiser â¦â
She shook her head. She went limp. He had to help her to the edge of the bed, where she lay down, her legs dangling, and now she was uttering little regular moans.
âIf you promise not to move, to be very good, Iâll go down to the office. They must have a gas ring or something or other to heat water.⦠Youâve got to drink something hot to wash out your stomach.â¦â
She nodded her willingness, but before leaving the room he went into the bathroom to make sure there were no pills left. She followed him with her gaze, anxiously wondering what he was doing. She was even more surprised when he rummaged in her handbag, which contained crumpled notes, powder and rouge.
He wasnât a thief, though. He put the bag down on the bedside table.
âDonât move.⦠Iâll be back immediately.â
And on the staircase, where he endeavored to make as little noise as possible, he smiled rather bitterly. Nobody had ever done as much as this for him! All his life, as far back as he could remember, it was he whoâd had to help other people. He had often dreamed, in vain, of being ill so that somebody might bend over him with a gentle smile and relieve him, for a brief while, of the burden of his existence.
âForgive me for bothering youââhe had always been exaggeratedly polite, through fear of giving offenseâ âmy neighbor isnât feeling very well. Would you be kind enough to boil a little water for her?
She could not keep still, she was walking ceaselessly to and fro in the confined space of the bedroom.
âWhat do you feel?â
âI donât know.⦠Iâm frightened.⦠If only I could be sick.â¦â
He didnât know, either. The idea of leaving her and rushing off to a pharmacy to get an emetic did not occur to him, or rather it seemed too complicated.
âHow many tablets have you taken?â
She flared up, infuriated by his uselessness and perhaps by the absurdity of his appearance.
âHow should I know? What was left in the bottle ⦠six or seven.⦠Iâm cold.â¦â
She flung her coat over her shoulders and glanced at the door, as though tempted to go and seek help elsewhere.
âTo think he left me â¦â
âListen. Iâm willing to try.⦠I did it once before, when my daughter had swallowed a â¦â
They were both equally incoherent, and to top it all, the people on the third floor, assuming that the original scene was still going on, banged on the floor to demand silence.
âCome here.⦠Open your mouth.⦠Let me â¦â
âYouâre hurting me.â
âThatâs nothing.⦠Wait a minute.â¦â
He was looking for something with which to tickle the back of her throat, and his inexperience was such that he almost used his own handkerchief. She had one in her hand, a tiny one screwed up into a tight ball, which he unfolded and rolled into a tapered twist.
âOh, youâre choking me.⦠Oh!â
He was obliged to hold her head in a firm grip, and was surprised at the slightness of her skull.
âRelax.⦠My daughter was just the same.⦠There! Just another minute ⦠Dâyou feel it coming?â
Spasms shook her chest, and suddenly she vomited, without noticing that part of her vomit hit the stranger. Tears filled her eyes and prevented her from seeing. She was vomiting reddish stuff, and he held her by the shoulders, encouraging her like a child:
âThere! ⦠There! ⦠You see youâll feel better.⦠Go on.⦠Donât hold it back. On the contrary, let yourself go.â¦â
She was looking at him through blurred eyes, like an animal that has had a bone removed from its throat.
âDoes your stomach feel empty yet? ⦠Let me try once more.⦠Itâd be wiser â¦â
She shook her head. She went limp. He had to help her to the edge of the bed, where she lay down, her legs dangling, and now she was uttering little regular moans.
âIf you promise not to move, to be very good, Iâll go down to the office. They must have a gas ring or something or other to heat water.⦠Youâve got to drink something hot to wash out your stomach.â¦â
She nodded her willingness, but before leaving the room he went into the bathroom to make sure there were no pills left. She followed him with her gaze, anxiously wondering what he was doing. She was even more surprised when he rummaged in her handbag, which contained crumpled notes, powder and rouge.
He wasnât a thief, though. He put the bag down on the bedside table.
âDonât move.⦠Iâll be back immediately.â
And on the staircase, where he endeavored to make as little noise as possible, he smiled rather bitterly. Nobody had ever done as much as this for him! All his life, as far back as he could remember, it was he whoâd had to help other people. He had often dreamed, in vain, of being ill so that somebody might bend over him with a gentle smile and relieve him, for a brief while, of the burden of his existence.
âForgive me for bothering youââhe had always been exaggeratedly polite, through fear of giving offenseâ âmy neighbor isnât feeling very well. Would you be kind enough to boil a little water for her?
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