s all too silly!

Zoe, however, introduced Muffat into the bedroom, where a scent of ether
lingered amid warm, heavy silence, scarce broken by the dull roll of
occasional carriages in the Avenue de Villiers. Nana, looking very white
on her pillow, was lying awake with wide-open, meditative eyes. She
smiled when she saw the count but did not move.

"Ah, dear pet!" she slowly murmured. "I really thought I should never
see you again."

Then as he leaned forward to kiss her on the hair, she grew tender
toward him and spoke frankly about the child, as though he were its
father.

"I never dared tell you; I felt so happy about it! Oh, I used to dream
about it; I should have liked to be worthy of you! And now there's
nothing left. Ah well, perhaps that's best. I don't want to bring a
stumbling block into your life."

Astounded by this story of paternity, he began stammering vague phrases.
He had taken a chair and had sat down by the bed, leaning one arm on the
coverlet. Then the young woman noticed his wild expression, the blood
reddening his eyes, the fever that set his lips aquiver.

"What's the matter then?" she asked. "You're ill too."

"No," he answered with extreme difficulty.

She gazed at him with a profound expression. Then she signed to Zoe
to retire, for the latter was lingering round arranging the medicine
bottles. And when they were alone she drew him down to her and again
asked:

"What's the matter with you, darling? The tears are ready to burst from
your eyes--I can see that quite well. Well now, speak out; you've come
to tell me something."

"No, no, I swear I haven't," he blurted out. But he was choking with
suffering, and this sickroom, into which he had suddenly entered
unawares, so worked on his feelings that he burst out sobbing and buried
his face in the bedclothes to smother the violence of his grief. Nana
understood. Rose Mignon had most assuredly decided to send the letter.
She let him weep for some moments, and he was shaken by convulsions so
fierce that the bed trembled under her. At length in accents of motherly
compassion she queried:

"You've had bothers at your home?"

He nodded affirmatively. She paused anew, and then very low:

"Then you know all?"

He nodded assent. And a heavy silence fell over the chamber of
suffering. The night before, on his return from a party given by the
empress, he had received the letter Sabine had written her lover. After
an atrocious night passed i