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Part I
Inthecentreoftownthestreetswerealreadylesscrowdedandthelightsrarer.Childrenwerestillplayingoutsidethedoors.WhenCottardaskedhim,thedoctorstoppedthecarinfrontofagroupofthesechildrenwhowereplayinghopscotchandshouting.Butoneofthem,withblackhairstuckdown,aperfectpartingandadirtyface,staredatRieuxwithhisclear,intimidatingeyes.Thedoctorlookedaway.Cottard,standingonthepavement,shookhishand;hisvoicewashoarseandhehaddifficultyformingthewords.Twoorthreetimeshelookedbehindhim.
"Peoplearetalkingaboutanepidemic.Isittrue,doctor?"
"Peoplearealwaystalking,that’snormal,"Rieuxsaid.
"You’reright.Andwhenadozenpeopledie,they’llsayit’stheendoftheworld.It’sjustwhatwedon’tneed."
Theenginewasalreadytickingover.Rieux’shandwasonthegear-stick.Buthelookedoncemoreatthechild,whowasstillstaringathimwithaserious,unruffledair.Thensuddenly,withnostoppinghalfway,thechildgavehimabeamingsmile.
"Sowhatdoweneed?"thedoctorasked,smilingbackatthechild.
