"Stop that noise," I cried in French, angered beyond all reason at the
thought of music at such a time. "Idiots, there is yellow fever there."
The little man stopped with his bow raised; for a moment they all stared
at me, transfixed. It was a little elf in blue indienne who jumped first
and ran down the street, crying the news in a shrill voice, the others
following, the fiddler gazing stupidly after them. Suddenly he scrambled
up, moaning, as if the scourge itself had fastened on him, backed into
the house, and slammed the door in my face. I returned with slow steps
to shut myself in the darkened room again, and I recall feeling something
of triumph over the consternation I had caused. No sounds came from the
bedroom, and after that the street was quiet as death save for an
occasional frightened, hurrying footfall. I was tired.
All at once the bedroom door opened softly, and Helene was standing
there, looking at me. At first I saw her dimly, as in a vision, then
clearly. I leaped to my feet and went and stood beside her.
"The doctor has not come," I said. "Where does he live? I will go for
him."
She shook her head.
"He can do no good. Lindy has procured all the remedies, such as they
are. They can only serve to alleviate," she answered. "She cannot
withstand this, poor lady.
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