As a comment on these words she now stepped cautiously out, and peered in every direction.

“St—­st!” she whispered.  No answer came to this signal.

Rose returned into the house and bolted the door inside.  She went up to the tapestried room, and found the doctor in the act of wishing Josephine good-night.  The baroness, fatigued a little by her walk, had mounted no higher than her own bedroom, which was on the first floor just under the tapestried room.  Rose followed the doctor out.  “Dear friend, one word.  Josephine talked of telling Raynal.  You have not encouraged her to do that?”

“Certainly not, while he is in Egypt.”

“Still less on his return.  Doctor, you don’t know that man.  Josephine does not know him.  But I do.  He would kill her if he knew.  He would kill her that minute.  He would not wait:  he would not listen to excuses:  he is a man of iron.  Or if he spared her he would kill Camille:  and that would destroy her by the cruellest of all deaths!  My friend, I am a wicked, miserable girl.  I am the cause of all this misery!”

She then told Aubertin all about the anonymous letter, and what Raynal had said to her in consequence.

“He never would have married her had he known she loved another.  He asked me was it so.  I told him a falsehood.  At least I equivocated, and to equivocate with one so loyal and simple was to deceive him.  I am the only sinner:  that sweet angel is the only sufferer.  Is this the justice of Heaven?  Doctor, my remorse is great.  No one knows what I feel when I look at my work.  Edouard thinks I love her so much better than I do him.  He is wrong:  it is not love only, it is pity:  it is remorse for the sorrow I have brought on her, and the wrong I have done poor Raynal.”

The high-spirited girl was greatly agitated:  and Aubertin, though he did not acquit her of all blame, soothed her, and made excuses for her.

“We must not always judge by results,” said he.  “Things turned unfortunately.  You did for the best.  I forgive you for one.  That is, I will forgive you if you promise not to act again without my advice.”

“Oh, never! never!”

“And, above all, no imprudence about that child.  In three little weeks they will be together without risk of discovery.  Well, you don’t answer me.”

Rose’s blood turned cold.  “Dear friend,” she stammered, “I quite agree with you.”

“Promise, then.”

“Not to let Josephine go to Frejus?” said Rose hastily.  “Oh, yes!  I promise.”

“You are a good girl,” said Aubertin.  “You have a will of your own.  But you can submit to age and experience.”  The doctor then kissed her, and bade her farewell.

“I leave for Paris at six in the morning,” he said.  “I will not try your patience or hers unnecessarily.  Perhaps it will not be three weeks ere she sees her child under her friend’s roof.”

The moment Rose was alone, she sat down and sighed bitterly.  “There is no end to it,” she sobbed despairingly.  “It is like a spider’s web:  every struggle to be free but multiplies the fine yet irresistible thread that seems to bind me.  And to-night I thought to be so happy; instead of that, he has left me scarce the heart to do what I have to do.”