About five o'clock, as a deep silence reigned in the little _appartement_, and the sick woman, watched by Joseph and his mother, the one sitting at the foot, the other at the head of her bed, was expecting her grandson Bixiou, whom Desroches had gone to fetch, the sound of Philippe's step and cane resounded on the staircase.
"There he is! there he is!" cried the Descoings, sitting up in bed and suddenly able to use her paralyzed tongue.
Agathe and Joseph were deeply impressed by this powerful effect of the horror which violently agitated the old woman.

Their painful suspense was soon ended by the sight of Philippe's convulsed and purple face, his staggering walk, and the horrible state of his eyes, which were deeply sunken, dull, and yet haggard; he had a strong chill upon him, and his teeth chattered.
"Starvation in Prussia!" he cried, looking about him.

"Nothing to eat or drink ?--and my throat on fire! Well, what's the matter?
The devil is always meddling in our affairs.

There's my old Descoings in bed, looking at me with her eyes as big as saucers." "Be silent, monsieur!" said Agathe, rising.

"At least, respect the sorrows you have caused." "_Monsieur_, indeed!" he cried, looking at his mother.