“Just now.”

“Suddenly?”

“Yes, like a clap of thunder.”

“Did you feel nothing of it yesterday or the day before?”

“Nothing.”

“No drowsiness?”

“None.”

“What have you eaten today?”

“I have eaten nothing; I only drank a glass of my master’s lemonade⁠—that’s all.” And Barrois turned towards Noirtier, who, immovably fixed in his armchair, was contemplating this terrible scene without allowing a word or a movement to escape him.

“Where is this lemonade?” asked the doctor eagerly.