d in it.

"Jacques," said Jeanne-Marie, "go at once for the doctor, and
tell him to come here, for some one is very ill."

"_Hein?_" said Jacques again, "does that concern me? I must
attend to my own affairs, and finish my wine, Jeanne-Marie."

"If you do not go this moment," said the woman, with a little
stamp of her foot, "you shall never taste my wine again, with
or without payment, Jacques, _et je tiens parole, moi!_"

"There is other wine to be had in Le Trooz," answered the man
sulkily, but moving nevertheless towards the entrance, when
she was recalled by Jeanne-Marie.

"Jacques," she said, coming two or three steps down the
stairs, "if Monsieur le Docteur inquires who is ill, you will
say it is my niece."

"But she is then your niece, _la petite_," said Jacques,
scratching his head as an outward expression of some inward
perplexity.

"You will tell Monsieur le Docteur what I say," repeated
Jeanne-Marie imperiously, "and make haste;" and she went
upstairs again, and closed the bed-room with a certain
emphasis, as though to prevent further discussion.

Madelon was still lying on the bed, with her face buried in
the pillow; a violent shivering of cold or of fear had seized
her, but she resisted Jeanne-Marie's efforts to raise her with
the obstinacy of a strong will acted on by intense physical
alarm. But at length the woman's persuasive words appeared to
have a soothing effect, though she seemed scarcely to take in
their meaning, for she allowed herself to be undressed and put
into bed, and after taking some warm drink, fell into a
restless, starting sleep.

Jeanne-Marie drew a curtain across the small window, so as to
shut out the slanting sunbeams, which were pouring into the
room, on to the patchwork quilt and white pillow where the
little feverish head lay so uneasily; then, taking up her
knitting, she sat down by the bedside, and as she mechanically
added row after row to the blue worsted stocking, she
reflected. From Madelon's few distracted words, she imagined
that she knew the state of the case very well; it was one not
unprecedented, and presented no difficulties to either
comprehension of belief. "They wanted to bring her up as a
nun, and so she ran away. Well, thou hast done wisely, little
one; I also know something of convents and nuns, and if it
depends on me to protect thee, they shall not touch thee, _mon
enfant_." This was her final resolution as she sat knitting and
reflecting, with