P. 1
A Love Episode - Emile Zola

A Love Episode - Emile Zola


|Views: 178|Likes:
Originally UPLOADED by SATHEESH BALACHANDRAN/ Guruvayur/ /LIBRARY OF BABEL/ {in the process of "being built"} Contact: satheeshgvr@gmail.com, to DOWNLOAD this eBook. Thank You.
Originally UPLOADED by SATHEESH BALACHANDRAN/ Guruvayur/ /LIBRARY OF BABEL/ {in the process of "being built"} Contact: satheeshgvr@gmail.com, to DOWNLOAD this eBook. Thank You.

More info:

Published by: Satheesh Balachandran on Jun 05, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


Read on Scribd mobile: iPhone, iPad and Android.
download as PDF or read online from Scribd
See more
See less



"Oh, it's close on seven o'clock, madame."

"What! seven o'clock!"

Astonishment riveted her to the floor; she had lost all consciousness of time, and seemed to awaken from a

"And where's Jeanne?" she asked.

"Oh! she has been very good, madame. I even think she must have fallen asleep, for I haven't heard her for
some time."

"Haven't you given her a light?"

Embarrassment closed Rosalie's lips; she was unwilling to relate that Zephyrin had brought her some pictures
which had engrossed her attention. Mademoiselle had never made the least stir, so she could scarcely have
wanted anything. Helene, however, paid no further heed to her, but ran into the room, where a dreadful chill
fell upon her.

"Jeanne! Jeanne!" she called.

No answer broke the stillness. She stumbled against an arm-chair. From the dining-room, the door of which
she had left ajar, some light streamed across a corner of the carpet. She felt a shiver come over her, and she
could have declared that the rain was falling in the room, with its moist breath and continuous streaming.
Then, on turning her head, she at once saw the pale square formed by the open window and the gloomy grey
of the sky.

"Who can have opened this window?" she cried. "Jeanne! Jeanne!"

Still no answering word. A mortal terror fell on Helene's heart. She must look out of this window; but as she
felt her way towards it, her hands lighted on a head of hair--it was Jeanne's. And then, as Rosalie entered with
a lamp, the child appeared with blanched face, sleeping with her cheek upon her crossed arms, while the big
raindrops from the roof splashed upon her. Her breathing was scarcely perceptible, so overcome she was with
despair and fatigue. Among the lashes of her large, bluey eyelids there were still two heavy tears.

"The unhappy child!" stammered Helene. "Oh, heavens! she's icy cold! To fall asleep there, at such a time,
when she had been expressly forbidden to touch the window! Jeanne, Jeanne, speak to me; wake up, Jeanne!"

Rosalie had prudently vanished. The child, on being raised in her mother's embrace, let her head drop as
though she were unable to shake off the leaden slumber that had seized upon her. At last, however, she raised
her eyelids; but the glare of the lamp dazzled her, and she remained benumbed and stupid.

"Jeanne, it's I! What's wrong with you? See, I've just come back," said Helene.

But the child seemingly failed to understand her; in her stupefaction she could only murmur: "Oh! Ah!"

She gazed inquiringly at her mother, as though she failed to recognize her. And suddenly she shivered,
growing conscious of the cold air of the room. Her memory was awakening, and the tears rolled from her
eyelids to her cheeks. Then she commenced to struggle, in the evident desire to be left alone.

"It's you, it's you! Oh, leave me; you hold me too tight! I was so comfortable."

You're Reading a Free Preview

/*********** DO NOT ALTER ANYTHING BELOW THIS LINE ! ************/ var s_code=s.t();if(s_code)document.write(s_code)//-->