Once my bed broke,
and I spent the night perforce on the floor with only my mattress under
me; to awake finally in the whitish dawn perfectly helpless with
rheumatism. Yet with the exception of my bed and B.'s bed and a wooden
bunk which belonged to Bathhouse John, every _paillasse_ lay directly on
the floor; moreover the men who slept thus were three-quarters of them
miserably clad, nor had they anything beyond their light-weight
blankets--whereas I had a complete outfit including a big fur coat, which
I had taken with me (as previously described) from the _Section
Sanitaire_. The morning after my night spent on the floor I pondered,
having nothing to do and being unable to move, upon the subject of my
physical endurance--wondering just how the men about me, many of them
beyond middle age, some extremely delicate, in all not more than five or
six as rugged constitutionally as myself, lived through the nights in The
Enormous Room. Also I recollected glancing through an open door into the
women's quarters, at the risk of being noticed by the _planton_ in whose
charge I was at the time (who, fortunately, was stupid even for a
_planton_, else I should have been well punished for my curiosity) and
beholding _paillasses_ identical in all respects with ours reposing on
the floor; and I thought, if it is marvellous that old men and sick men
can stand this and not die, it is certainly miraculous that girls of
eleven and fifteen, and the baby which I saw once being caressed out in
the women's _cour_ with unspeakable gentleness by a little _putain_ whose
name I do not know, and the dozen or so oldish females whom I have often
seen on promenade--can stand this and not die.
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