“Never mind if I’m sleeping,” said Jeanne.  “I shall know you’re there all the same.”

She closed her eyes and fell into a doze.  Helene remained near her, watching over her slumber.  When Rosalie entered on tip-toe to ask permission to go to bed, she answered “Yes” with a nod.  At last eleven o’clock struck, and Helene was still watching there, when she imagined she heard a gentle tapping at the outer door.  Bewildered with astonishment, she took up the lamp and left the room to make sure.

“Who is there?”

“’Tis I; open the door,” replied a voice in stifled tones.

It was Henri’s voice.  She quickly opened the door, thinking his coming only natural.  No doubt he had but now been informed of Jeanne’s illness, and had hastened to her, although she had not summoned him to her assistance, feeling a certain shame at the thought of allowing him to share in attending on her daughter.

However, he gave her no opportunity to speak.  He followed her into the dining-room, trembling, with inflamed visage.

“I beseech you, pardon me,” he faltered, as he caught hold of her hand.  “I haven’t seen you for three days past, and I cannot resist the craving to see you.”

Helene withdrew her hand.  He stepped back, but, with his gaze still fixed on her, continued:  “Don’t be afraid; I love you.  I would have waited at the door had you not opened it.  Oh!  I know very well it is simple madness, but I love you, I love you all the same!”

Her face was grave as she listened, eloquent with a dumb reproach which tortured him, and impelled him to pour forth his passionate love.

But Helene still remained standing, wholly unmoved.  At last she spoke.  “You know nothing, then?” asked she.

He had taken her hand, and was raising it to his lips, when she started back with a gesture of impatience.

“Oh! leave me!” she exclaimed.  “You see that I am not even listening to you.  I have something far different to think about!”

Then becoming more composed, she put her question to him a second time.  “You know nothing?  Well, my daughter is ill.  I am pleased to see you; you will dispel my fears.”

She took up the lamp and walked on before him, but as they were passing through the doorway, she turned, and looking at him, said firmly: 

“I forbid you beginning again here.  Oh! you must not!”

He entered behind her, scarcely understanding what had been enjoined on him.  His temples throbbed convulsively, as he leaned over the child’s little crib.

“She is asleep; look at her,” said Helene in a whisper.

He did not hear her; his passion would not be silenced.  She was hanging over the bed in front of him, and he could see her rosy neck, with its wavy hair.  He shut his eyes that he might escape the temptation of kissing her, as she said to him: 

“Doctor, look at her, she is so feverish.  Oh, tell me whether it is serious!”