“It ain’t so easy as all that, you see,” Raoul said. “Them boys take some finding.”
Horse-face nodded slow approval once more.
Some time was spent looking for a subject of conversation.
The problem was solved easily enough when Rambert discovered that horse-face was an ardent football-player.
He, too, had been very keen on soccer.
They discussed the French championship, the merits of professional English teams, and the technique of passing.
By the end of the meal horse-face was in high good humor, was calling Rambert “old boy,” and trying to convince him that the most sporting position by far on the football field was that of center half.
“You see, old boy, it’s the center half that does the placing.
And that’s the whole art of the game, isn’t it?”
Rambert was inclined to agree, though he, personally, had always played center forward.
The discussion proceeded peacefully until a radio was turned on and, after at first emitting a series of sentimental songs, broke into the announcement that there had been a hundred and thirty-seven plague deaths on the previous day.
No one present betrayed the least emotion.
Horse-face merely shrugged and stood up.
Raoul and Rambert followed his example.
As they were going out, the center half shook Rambert’s hand vigorously.
“My name’s Gonzales,” he said.
To Rambert the next two days seemed endless.
He looked up Rieux and described to him the latest developments, then accompanied the doctor on one of his calls.
He took leave of him on the doorstep of a house where a patient, suspected to have plague, was awaiting him.
There was a sound of footsteps and voices in the hall; the family were being warned of the doctor’s visit.
“I hope Tarrou will be on time,” Rieux murmured.
He looked worn out.
“Is the epidemic getting out of hand?” Rambert asked.
Rieux said it wasn’t that; indeed, the death-graph was rising less steeply.
Only, they lacked adequate means of coping with the disease.
“We’re short of equipment. In all the armies of the world a shortage of equipment is usually compensated for by manpower.
But we’re short of man-power, too.”
“Haven’t doctors and trained assistants been sent from other towns?”
“Yes,” Rieux said. “Ten doctors and a hundred helpers.
That sounds a lot, no doubt.
But it’s barely enough to cope with the present state of affairs.
And it will be quite inadequate if things get worse.”
Rambert, who had been listening to the sounds within the house, turned to Rieux with a friendly smile.
“Yes,” he said, “you’d better make haste to win your battle.”
Then a shadow crossed his face.
“You know,” he added in a low tone: “it’s not because of that I’m leaving.”
Rieux replied that he knew it very well, but Rambert went on to say:
“I don’t think I’m a coward—not as a rule, anyhow.
And I’ve had opportunities of putting it to the test.
Only there are some thoughts I simply cannot endure.”
The doctor looked him in the eyes.
“You’ll see her again,” he said.
“Maybe. But I just can’t stomach the thought that it may last on and on, and all the time she’ll be growing older.
At thirty one’s beginning to age, and one’s got to squeeze all one can out of life. But I doubt if you can understand.”
Rieux was replying that he thought he could, when Tarrou came up, obviously much excited.
“I’ve just asked Paneloux to join us.”
“Well?” asked the doctor.
“He thought it over, then said yes.”
“That’s good,” the doctor said. “I’m glad to know he’s better than his sermon.”
“Most people are like that,” Tarrou replied. “It’s only a matter of giving them the chance.” He smiled and winked at Rieux. “That’s my job in life—giving people chances.”