Чума
Part I
Thedoctorlookedatthefacethatwasturnedtowardshiminthelightofthebedsidelamp.ToRieux,despiteitsthirtyyearsandthemarksofillness,thisfacewasstillthatofayoungwoman,perhapsbecauseofthesmilethatdispelledalltherest.
"Sleepifyoucan,"hesaid."ThenursewillcomeatelevenandI’lltakeyoutothetwelveo’clocktrain."
Hekissedherslightlymoistforehead.Thesmilefollowedhimtothedoor.
Thenextday,April17,ateighto’clock,theconciergestoppedthedoctorashewentpastandaccusedsomejokersofhavingputthreedeadratsinthemiddleofthecorridor.Theymusthavebeencaughtwithlargetrapsbecausetheywerecoveredinblood.Theconciergehadstayedforsometimeonthedoorstep,holdingtheratsbytheirpawsandwaitingfortheculpritstogivethemselvesawaywithasarcasticremark.Hehadbeendisappointed.
"Oh,I’llgetthemintheend,"saidM.Michel.
Rieuxwasintriguedanddecidedtostarthisroundsintheouterdistrictswherethepoorestofhispatientslived.Heretherubbishwascollectedmuchlaterinthedayandhiscar,drivingalongthestraight,dustyroadsofthisarea,brushedagainstboxesofrubbishlyingontheedgeofthepavement.Inonestreethedrovedowninthiswaythedoctorcountedadozenrats,tippedoutonthedirtyragsandvegetablepeelings.
