Чума
Part V
Tarrouseemednottohavemoved,buthislips,whitenedbythefever,spokeofthestrugglethathewashavingtoendure.
"Well?"askedthedoctor.
Tarrouraisedhisthickshouldersalittleoutofthebed.
"Well,"hesaid."I’mlosing."
Thedoctorleantoverhim.Thelymphnodeswereknottedundertheburningskinandhischestseemedtoberumblingwithallthenoisesofanundergroundforge.Unusually,Tarrouwaspresentingthetwosetsofsymptoms.Rieuxsaid,ashegotup,thattheserumhadnotyethadtimetotakefulleffect.AsurgeoffeverinhisthroatdrownedthefewwordsthatTarroutriedtoutterinreply.
AfterdinnerRieuxandhismothercametositwiththepatient.ThenightstartedforhimwithastruggleandRieuxknewthatthisfiercecombatagainsttheangeloftheplaguewouldlastuntildawn.Tarrou’swidechestandbroadshoulderswerenothisbestdefence;thatwasthebloodthatRieuxhadmadeflowjustnowwithhisneedleand,inthatblood,somethingdeeperthanthesoul,whichnosciencecouldreveal.Allhecoulddowastowatchhisfriendstruggle.Severalmonthsofrepeatedfailureshadtaughthimtojudgetheeffectivenessoftheremedieshewouldapply,thetonicshewouldinjectandtheabscessesthathewouldlance.Inreality,hisonlytaskwastogiveanopportunitytothatgoodluckwhichonlytoooftendoesnotappearunlessoneprovokesit.
