She knew that she was lost, that a cancer in the chest was eating into her; and she already had the haggard, orange-hued mark of the cancerous patient.

Since the beginning of the journey she had not spoken a word, but, suffering terribly, had remained with her lips tightly closed.

Then all at once, she had swooned away after an attack of vomiting.
"It is unbearable!" murmured Madame de Jonquiere, who herself felt faint; "we must let in a little fresh air." Sister Hyacinthe was just then laying La Grivotte to rest on her pillows, "Certainly," said she, "we will open the window for a few moments.

But not on this side, for I am afraid we might have a fresh fit of coughing.
Open the window on your side, madame." The heat was still increasing, and the occupants of the carriage were stifling in that heavy evil-smelling atmosphere.

The pure air which came in when the window was opened brought relief however.