LIFE OF ELIE METCHNIKOFF 271 



illumined by a very exalted feeling ; it was like the 

 last chord of his harmonious soul. What a consolation 

 if he could have died then ! 



But life is cruel. He lived through two more 

 days of suffering. On the 14th he inhaled oxygen 

 almost continually. He asked for pantopon, but we 

 feared to give him too much. I told him it would 

 induce such continuous sleep that he would not even 

 be able to enjoy it. " But an eternal sleep is pre- 

 cisely what I want ! Do understand that now 

 nothing is left to me but pantopon. What is the 

 good of making me last ? Is this a life ? A few 

 days or a month have no importance when 

 one is not going to recover. And you cannot 

 wish to prolong my sufferings." His breathlessness 

 increased ; he said, " Give me your hand ; stay near 

 me ! " I knew what he meant ; he had the " death- 

 sensation." 



His poor hands were hot and warmed my cold 

 ones. . . . The next day I could not warm his hands, 

 ice-cold for ever. 



The whole day he awaited with impatience the 

 hour for pantopon. About nine o'clock, when Dr. 

 Darre came in, he said, " Dear Darre, at last ! " 



There was no talk that evening, he was so weary. 

 With what anguish I awaited the stroke of midnight, 

 which ended those two dread days ! He had been 

 mistaken by barely one day. The night was not bad, 

 in spite of breathlessness and some fits of coughing. 

 The next morning he felt better. He had not read 

 the papers the day before, to-day I read him the com- 

 muniques in the Petit Parisien, he said it was enough. 

 He also turned the pages of a book he had recently 

 begun to read, La Science et les Alkmands. 



