The Shadow and the Little Light Dance 'Round the Wind
Feuilly was sitting by the bedside on a little three-legged stool, tipping a tin cup so his wife could drink. Samuel had never seen him caught up in any great emotion before, but now he seemed to be alive. He was moving constantly--quivering--and his black eyes were bright and he kept murmuring, "Come, now. You can drink it. It's only water. We have plenty of water. You aren't wasting it. We don't need to save it. There's more than enough water."
"He won't let me go for the doctor--at least, he hasn't yet. Stupid man. He's horrid like that, but they have no money to pay for a doctor." Courfeyrac managed to make his way to the other side of the bed where Justin lay, looking solemn and staying quiet.
"Won't you pay for the doctor?"
"Oh, yes, I will, but Silvain doesn't want me to," he said, kneeling and pressing Justin's small hand a little. "He doesn't believe he could possibly reimburse me... He'll give in soon, though. He thinks we can work through this on our own, but look at Manon. Look at Justin. It's impossible. He'll give in soon."
Just then, Manon began to cry because she couldn't drink properly, and Feuilly started stroking her hair with hands that shook, though only a very little. He looked up.
"You're right, Michel. Call the doctor."
His voice was rougher than Samuel had ever heard it before, and his black eyes had turned feverish. Courfeyrac stumbled to his feet.
"A moment, Courfeyrac, let me. I could help."
"I won't hear of it."
"I'll go."
"Oh, I think I can make it--"
"Don't be /stupid/! They're dying! It's no good to have you falling down in a gutter somewhere and no one coming and us not knowing where you are and waiting and waiting! I'll go, for God's sake! Sit down!"
Courfeyrac obeyed, shakily, and Samuel ran out the door. He hadn't run in a very long time...
When he returned with the doctor, Manon was no longer crying and Feuilly was trying to help her drink again. Courfeyrac was sleeping in the corner of the room with his eyes red and his clothes even more of a mess.
The doctor ordered them all out.
Samuel sat with Feuilly in the other room, staring at a tabletop covered with Justin's attempts at painting. Feuilly had painted part of it too, he thought, and there was another style of brushstroke that must have been Manon's. Courfeyrac was still sleeping, although now in a different corner by the stove.
Over the course of the next three days, Samuel became a shadow again. He was often hungry, because no one found time to cook; Courfeyrac simply slipped out once in a while and brought back rolls. In the mornings, he had to run to the college for his classes, and immediately after said good-bye to his Amis and Edmond and went back to Feuilly's little home.
In the afternoons, he stood quietly in the back of the room watching Feuilly take care of Manon and Courfeyrac take care of Justin, following the orders of the doctor and administering medicine which Courfeyrac purchased.
In the evenings, he offered to help, but Feuilly, who must be /dying/ from lack of sleep, shook his head, and Courfeyrac, who kept collapsing, glared and pushed him away.
On June third, Courfeyrac ordered him away. Feuilly no longer paid attention.
"This's enough, Dimitri," Courfeyrac said, lowering his voice needlessly. "We're all right."
"The hell you are," Samuel whispered furiously.
"I tell you, Feuilly can care for his wife and I for my godson. The doctor's promised to come by to-morrow morning. We shall be quite all right, and I wish you'd go away. We've never liked each other, and you make me irritated."
"I don't care; you need help. I stayed with them for months. Don't you think they're my family as well?"
"But they're not, because you've got Combeferre and your revolution. God! You think for a moment I'm fooled by you? You've got your lover! Why aren't you satisfied with that? Justin loves me the way he's never even looked at you! You may be wealthier than any of us, more beautiful, better at words, but damn it, you have your happiness somewhere else! Why don't you go and enjoy it? Why must you always be coming here and staying with my good friends?"
"Courfeyrac, you're insane. You're completely insane! This isn't a question of which of us the child loves better! They're going to /die/! You need my help!"
"As if! We were managing before you came--I would have thrown you out, but Silvain wanted you--" They were both shouting now, sweating, and Courfeyrac looked mad with his hair and clothing rumpled and his eyes red and sore and wide and circled underneath.
And suddenly they were silent.
"For the love of God, Dimitri, just go," Feuilly whispered, touching Manon's cheek.
Samuel had never seen Feuilly look small and frightened before. He nodded, not quite able to speak, and left the little house.
Edmond held him close all night long, but he couldn't stop sobbing.
Feuilly was sitting by the bedside on a little three-legged stool, tipping a tin cup so his wife could drink. Samuel had never seen him caught up in any great emotion before, but now he seemed to be alive. He was moving constantly--quivering--and his black eyes were bright and he kept murmuring, "Come, now. You can drink it. It's only water. We have plenty of water. You aren't wasting it. We don't need to save it. There's more than enough water."
"He won't let me go for the doctor--at least, he hasn't yet. Stupid man. He's horrid like that, but they have no money to pay for a doctor." Courfeyrac managed to make his way to the other side of the bed where Justin lay, looking solemn and staying quiet.
"Won't you pay for the doctor?"
"Oh, yes, I will, but Silvain doesn't want me to," he said, kneeling and pressing Justin's small hand a little. "He doesn't believe he could possibly reimburse me... He'll give in soon, though. He thinks we can work through this on our own, but look at Manon. Look at Justin. It's impossible. He'll give in soon."
Just then, Manon began to cry because she couldn't drink properly, and Feuilly started stroking her hair with hands that shook, though only a very little. He looked up.
"You're right, Michel. Call the doctor."
His voice was rougher than Samuel had ever heard it before, and his black eyes had turned feverish. Courfeyrac stumbled to his feet.
"A moment, Courfeyrac, let me. I could help."
"I won't hear of it."
"I'll go."
"Oh, I think I can make it--"
"Don't be /stupid/! They're dying! It's no good to have you falling down in a gutter somewhere and no one coming and us not knowing where you are and waiting and waiting! I'll go, for God's sake! Sit down!"
Courfeyrac obeyed, shakily, and Samuel ran out the door. He hadn't run in a very long time...
When he returned with the doctor, Manon was no longer crying and Feuilly was trying to help her drink again. Courfeyrac was sleeping in the corner of the room with his eyes red and his clothes even more of a mess.
The doctor ordered them all out.
Samuel sat with Feuilly in the other room, staring at a tabletop covered with Justin's attempts at painting. Feuilly had painted part of it too, he thought, and there was another style of brushstroke that must have been Manon's. Courfeyrac was still sleeping, although now in a different corner by the stove.
Over the course of the next three days, Samuel became a shadow again. He was often hungry, because no one found time to cook; Courfeyrac simply slipped out once in a while and brought back rolls. In the mornings, he had to run to the college for his classes, and immediately after said good-bye to his Amis and Edmond and went back to Feuilly's little home.
In the afternoons, he stood quietly in the back of the room watching Feuilly take care of Manon and Courfeyrac take care of Justin, following the orders of the doctor and administering medicine which Courfeyrac purchased.
In the evenings, he offered to help, but Feuilly, who must be /dying/ from lack of sleep, shook his head, and Courfeyrac, who kept collapsing, glared and pushed him away.
On June third, Courfeyrac ordered him away. Feuilly no longer paid attention.
"This's enough, Dimitri," Courfeyrac said, lowering his voice needlessly. "We're all right."
"The hell you are," Samuel whispered furiously.
"I tell you, Feuilly can care for his wife and I for my godson. The doctor's promised to come by to-morrow morning. We shall be quite all right, and I wish you'd go away. We've never liked each other, and you make me irritated."
"I don't care; you need help. I stayed with them for months. Don't you think they're my family as well?"
"But they're not, because you've got Combeferre and your revolution. God! You think for a moment I'm fooled by you? You've got your lover! Why aren't you satisfied with that? Justin loves me the way he's never even looked at you! You may be wealthier than any of us, more beautiful, better at words, but damn it, you have your happiness somewhere else! Why don't you go and enjoy it? Why must you always be coming here and staying with my good friends?"
"Courfeyrac, you're insane. You're completely insane! This isn't a question of which of us the child loves better! They're going to /die/! You need my help!"
"As if! We were managing before you came--I would have thrown you out, but Silvain wanted you--" They were both shouting now, sweating, and Courfeyrac looked mad with his hair and clothing rumpled and his eyes red and sore and wide and circled underneath.
And suddenly they were silent.
"For the love of God, Dimitri, just go," Feuilly whispered, touching Manon's cheek.
Samuel had never seen Feuilly look small and frightened before. He nodded, not quite able to speak, and left the little house.
Edmond held him close all night long, but he couldn't stop sobbing.