‘Silence,’ hissed a voice in French. Sebastian was gone and another doctor came to bleed her, to rid her of the black humors that were causing the plague. "And, oh! forgive me, though I can never forgive myself, for the misery I have caused you. He knew not how to act, urged as he was in two directions. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. But … he must want to live in order that the inclination to repeat this incident may not recur.
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