“There is nothing seriously wrong with her, I assure you,” said he; “only with one so young great care must be taken.  You must see that her days are spent quietly and happily, and without shocks of any kind.”

“She is so delicate and nervous,” replied Helene after a moment’s pause.  “I cannot always control her.  For the most trifling reasons she is so overcome by joy or sorrow that I grow alarmed.  She loves me with a passion, a jealousy, which makes her burst into tears when I caress another child.”

“So, so—­delicate, nervous, and jealous,” repeated the doctor as he shook his head.  “Doctor Bodin has attended her, has he not?  I’ll have a talk with him about her.  We shall have to adopt energetic treatment.  She has reached an age that is critical in one of her sex.”

Recognizing the interest he displayed, Helene gave vent to her gratitude.  “How I must thank you, sir, for the great trouble you have taken!”

The loudness of her tones frightened her, however; she might have woke Jeanne, and she bent down over the bed.  But no; the child was sound asleep, with rosy cheeks, and a vague smile playing round her lips.  The air of the quiet chamber was charged with languor.  The whilom drowsiness, as if born again of relief, once more seized upon the curtains, furniture, and littered garments.  Everything was steeped restfully in the early morning light as it entered through the two windows.

Helene again stood up close to the bed; on the other side was the doctor, and between them lay Jeanne, lightly sleeping.

“Her father was frequently ill,” remarked Helene softly, continuing her answer to his previous question.  “I myself enjoy the best of health.”

The doctor, who had not yet looked at her, raised his eyes, and could scarcely refrain from smiling, so hale and hearty was she in every way.  She greeted his gaze with her own sweet and quiet smile.  Her happiness lay in her good health.

However, his looks were still bent on her.  Never had he seen such classical beauty.  Tall and commanding, she was a nut-brown Juno, of a nut-brown sunny with gleams of gold.  When she slowly turned her head, its profile showed the severe purity of a statue.  Her grey eyes and pearly teeth lit up her whole face.  Her chin, rounded and somewhat pronounced, proved her to be possessed of commonsense and firmness.  But what astonished the doctor was the superbness of her whole figure.  She stood there, a model of queenliness, chastity, and modesty.

On her side also she scanned him for a moment.  Doctor Deberle’s years were thirty-five; his face was clean-shaven and a little long; he had keen eyes and thin lips.  As she gazed on him she noticed for the first time that his neck was bare.  Thus they remained face to face, with Jeanne asleep between them.  The distance which but a short time before had appeared immense, now seemed to be dwindling away.  Then Helene slowly wrapped the shawl about her shoulders again, while the doctor hastened to button his coat at the neck.