ouse surgeon tried to make
him drink some water without leaving go of the bottle. This time he
swallowed the mouthful, yelling as though he had swallowed fire.

"It's brandy; damnation! It's brandy!"

Since the night before, everything he had had to drink was brandy. It
redoubled his thirst and he could no longer drink, because everything
burnt him. They had brought him some broth, but they were evidently
trying to poison him, for the broth smelt of vitriol. The bread was sour
and moldy. There was nothing but poison around him. The cell stank of
sulphur. He even accused persons of rubbing matches under his nose to
infect him.

All on a sudden he exclaimed:

"Oh! the rats, there're the rats now!"

There were black balls that were changing into rats. These filthy
animals got fatter and fatter, then they jumped onto the mattress and
disappeared. There was also a monkey which came out of the wall, and
went back into the wall, and which approached so near him each time,
that he drew back through fear of having his nose bitten off. Suddenly
there was another change, the walls were probably cutting capers, for he
yelled out, choking with terror and rage:

"That's it, gee up! Shake me, I don't care! Gee up! Tumble down! Yes,
ring the bells, you black crows! Play the organ to prevent my calling
the police. They've put a bomb behind the wall, the lousy scoundrels!
I can hear it, it snorts, they're going to blow us up! Fire! Damnation,
fire! There's a cry of fire! There it blazes. Oh, it's getting lighter,
lighter! All the sky's burning, red fires, green fires, yellow fires.
Hi! Help! Fire!"

His cries became lost in a rattle. He now only mumbled disconnected
words, foaming at the mouth, his chin wet with saliva. The doctor rubbed
his nose with his finger, a movement no doubt habitual with him in the
presence of serious cases. He turned to the house surgeon, and asked him
in a low voice:

"And the temperature, still the hundred degrees, is it not?"

"Yes, sir."

The doctor pursed his lips. He continued there another two minutes, his
eyes fixed on Coupeau. Then he shrugged his shoulders, adding:

"The same treatment, broth, milk, lemonade, and the potion of extract of
quinine. Do not leave him, and call me if necessary."

He went out and Gervaise followed him, to ask him if there was any
hope. But he walked so stiffly along the corridor, that she did not dare
approach him. She stood rooted there a minute, hesitating