eur Rambaud made his entry into the
bedroom. With outstretched hands she went to meet him.

"I thank you for your proposal, my friend," said she. "I am very
grateful; and you have done well in speaking--"

She was gazing calmly into his face, holding his big hand in her
grasp. Trembling all over, he dared not lift his eyes.

"Yet I must have time to consider," she resumed. "You will perhaps
have to give me a long time."

"Oh! as long as you like--six months, a year, longer if you please,"
exclaimed he with a light heart, well pleased that she had not
forthwith sent him about his business.

His excitement brought a faint smile to her face. "But I intend that
we shall still continue friends," said she. "You will come here as
usual, and simply give me your promise to remain content till I speak
to you about the matter. Is that understood?"

He had withdrawn his hand, and was now feverishly hunting for his hat,
signifying his acquiescence by a continuous bobbing of the head. Then,
at the moment of leaving, he found his voice once more.

"Listen to me," said he. "You now know that I am there--don't you?
Well, whatever happens I shall always be there. That's all the Abbe
should have told you. In ten years, if you like; you will only have to
make a sign. I shall obey you!"

And it was he who a last time took Helene's hand and gripped it as
though he would crush it. On the stairs the two brothers turned round
with the usual good-bye:

"Till next Tuesday!"

"Yes, Tuesday," answered Helene.

On returning to her room a fresh downfall of rain beating against the
shutters filled her with grave concern. Good heavens! what an
obstinate downpour, and how wet her poor friends would get! She opened
the window and looked down into the street. Sudden gusts of wind were
making the gaslights flicker, and amid the shiny puddles and
shimmering rain she could see the round figure of Monsieur Rambaud, as
he went off with dancing gait, exultant in the darkness, seemingly
caring nothing for the drenching torrent.

Jeanne, however, was very grave, for she had overheard some of her
playfellow's last words. She had just taken off her little boots, and
was sitting on the edge of the bed in her nightgown, in deep
cogitation. On entering the room to kiss her, her mother discovered
her thus.

"Good-night, Jeanne; kiss me."

Then, as the child did not seem to hear her, Helene sank down in front
of her, and clasped her round the waist, a