But they struggled against sleep as much as they could. They seated
themselves, one on each side of the chimney, and talked of a thousand
trifles, being very careful not to let the conversation drop. There was
a broad space between them in front of the fire. When they turned their
heads, they imagined that Camille had drawn a chair there, and occupied
this space, warming his feet in a lugubrious, bantering fashion. This
vision, which they had seen on the evening of the wedding-day, returned
each night.

And this corpse taking a mute, but jeering part, in their interviews,
this horribly disfigured body ever remaining there, overwhelmed them
with continued anxiety. Not daring to move, they half blinded themselves
staring at the scorching flames, and, when unable to resist any longer,
they cast a timid glance aside, their eyes irritated by the glowing
coal, created the vision, and conveyed to it a reddish glow.

Laurent, in the end, refused to remain seated any longer, without
avowing the cause of this whim to Therese. The latter understood that he
must see Camille as she saw him; and, in her turn, she declared that
the heat made her feel ill, and that she would be more comfortable a few
steps away from the chimney. Pushing back her armchair to the foot of
the bed, she remained there overcome, while her husband resumed his walk
in the room. From time to time, he opened the window, allowing the icy
air of the cold January night to fill the apartment, and this calmed his
fever.

For a week, the newly-married couple passed the nights in this fashion,
dozing and getting a little rest in the daytime, Therese behind the
counter in the shop, Laurent in his office. At night they belonged to
pain and fear. And the strangest part of the whole business was the