Let me examine this bite."
He approached his glass, extended his neck and looked. The scar
presented a rosy appearance. Then, Laurent, perceiving the marks of the
teeth of his victim, experienced a certain emotion. The blood flew
to his head, and he now observed a strange phenomenon. The ruby flood
rushing to the scar had turned it purple, it became raw and sanguineous,
standing out quite red against the fat, white neck. Laurent at the same
time felt a sharp pricking sensation, as if needles were being thrust
into the wound, and he hurriedly raised the collar of his shirt again.
"Bah!" he exclaimed, "Therese will cure that. A few kisses will suffice.
What a fool I am to think of these matters!"
He put on his hat, and went downstairs. He wanted to be in the open
air and walk. Passing before the door of the cellar, he smiled.
Nevertheless, he made sure of the strength of the hook fastening the
door. Outside, on the deserted pavement, he moved along with short steps
in the fresh matutinal air. It was then about five o'clock.
Laurent passed an atrocious day. He had to struggle against the
overpowering drowsiness that settled on him in the afternoon at his
office.
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