"You!" he exclaimed. "You here?"
He looked younger than ever with this joyful surprise on his face, but
neither the body, nor the arms which were covered, moved in the least,
and Clerambault coming nearer saw that the head alone seemed to be
alive.
"Mamma, you have been giving me away," said Edme Froment.
"Did you not want to see me?" said Clerambault, bending over him.
"That is not just what I meant, but I am not very anxious to be seen."
"Why not? I should like to know," said Clerambault, in a tone which he
tried to make gay.
"Because a man does not ask visitors to the house when he is not there
himself."
"Where are you?" if one may ask.
"I could almost swear that I was shut up in an old Egyptian mummy"--he
glanced at the bed and his immovable body:
"There is no life left in it," he said.
"You have more life than any of us," said a voice beside them.
Clerambault looked up and saw on the other side of the couch a tall
young man full of health and strength, who seemed to be about the same
age as Edme, who smiled and said to Clerambault: "My friend Chastenay
has enough vitality to lend me some and to spare."
"If that were only literally true," said the other, and the two
friends exchanged an affectionate glance. Chastenay continued:
"I should in that case only be giving back a part of what I owe you.
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