It was a piteous spectacle. The young woman's room, a little room into which came a livid light, looked out on to the yard. At first her parents had put her in their room, in the front part of the house; but the sight of The Ladies' Paradise opposite affected her so deeply, that they had been obliged to bring her back to her own again. And there she lay, so very thin under the bed-clothes, that you could hardly divine the form and existence of a human body. Her skinny arms, consumed by the burning fever of consumption, were in a perpetual movement of anxious, unconscious searching; whilst her black hair, heavy with passion, seemed thicker still, and to be preying with its voracious vitality upon her poor face, that face in which was fading the final degenerateness of a long lineage, a family that had grown and lived in the gloom of that cellar of old commercial Paris. Denise, her heart bursting with pity, stood looking at her. She did not at first speak, for fear of giving way to tears. However, she at last murmured: "I came at once. Can I be of any use to you? You asked for me. Would you like me to stay?" "No, thanks. I don't need anything. I only wanted to embrace you." Tears filled her eyes. Denise quickly leant over and kissed her, trembling at the flame which came from those hollow cheeks to her own lips. But Geneviève, stretching out her arms caught hold of her and kept her in a desperate embrace. Then she looked towards her father. "Would you like me to stay?" repeated Denise. "Perhaps there is something I can do for you." "No, no." Geneviève's glance was still obstinately fixed on her father, who remained standing there with a bewildered air, almost choking. However, he at last understood her and went away, without saying a word. They heard his heavy footsteps descending the stairs. "Tell me, is he with that woman?" the sick girl then eagerly inquired while catching hold of her cousin's hand, and making her sit down on the edge of the bed. "Yes, I wanted to see you as you are the only one who can tell me. They're together, aren't they?" In the surprise which these questions gave her Denise began to stammer, and was obliged to confess the truth, the rumours that were current at the Paradise. Clara, it was said, had already grown tired of Colomban, who was pursuing her everywhere, striving to obtain an occasional appointment by a sort of canine humility. It was also said that he was about to take a situation at the Grands Magasins du Louvre. "If you love him so much, he may yet come back," added Denise seeking to cheer the dying girl with this last hope. "Make haste and get well, he will acknowledge his errors, and marry you."