This would have made her very happy if there had been nothing great to distract her attention and her heart; but she had Josephine, whose deep depression and fits of irritation and terror filled her with anxiety; and so Edouard was in the way now and then.  On these occasions he was too vain to see what she was too polite to show him offensively.

But on this she became vexed at his obtuseness.

“Does he think I can be always at his beck and call?” thought she.

“She is always after her sister,” said he.

He was just beginning to be jealous of Josephine when the following incident occurred:—­

Rose and the doctor were discussing Josephine.  Edouard pretended to be reading a book, but he listened to every word.

Dr. Aubertin gave it as his opinion that Madame Raynal did not make enough blood.

“Oh! if I thought that!” cried Rose.

“Well, then, it is so, I assure you.”

“Doctor,” said Rose, “do you remember, one day you said healthy blood could be drawn from robust veins and poured into a sick person’s?”

“It is a well-known fact,” said Aubertin.

“I don’t believe it,” said Rose, dryly.

“Then you place a very narrow limit to science,” said the doctor, coldly.

“Did you ever see it done?” asked Rose, slyly.

“I have not only seen it done, but have done it myself.”

“Then do it for us.  There’s my arm; take blood from that for dear Josephine!” and she thrust a white arm out under his eye with such a bold movement and such a look of fire and love as never beamed from common eyes.

A keen, cold pang shot through the human heart of Edouard Riviere.

The doctor started and gazed at her with admiration:  then he hung his head.  “I could not do it.  I love you both too well to drain either of life’s current.”

Rose veiled her fire, and began to coax.  “Once a week; just once a week, dear, dear doctor; you know I should never miss it.  I am so full of that health, which Heaven denies to her I love.”

“Let us try milder measures first,” said the doctor.  “I have most faith in time.”

“What if I were to take her to Frejus? hitherto, the sea has always done wonders for her.”

“Frejus, by all means,” said Edouard, mingling suddenly in the conversation; “and this time I will go with you, and then I shall find out where you lodged before, and how the boobies came to say they did not know you.”

Rose bit her lip.  She could not help seeing then how much dear Edouard was in her way and Josephine’s.  Their best friends are in the way of all who have secrets.  Presently the doctor went to his study.  Then Edouard let fall a mock soliloquy.  “I wonder,” said he, dropping out his words one by one, “whether any one will ever love me well enough to give a drop of their blood for me.”

“If you were in sickness and sorrow, who knows?” said Rose, coloring up.