er wholly by surprise, and her work fell
from her hands. Her face blanched, but by a supreme effort of will
remained unimpassioned, as though she were a marble statue, fixing
dilated eyes upon him. She made no reply, and he continued in
imploring tones:

"Oh! I pray you, answer me. One word, one only. Are you going to get
married?"

"Yes, perhaps. What concern is it of yours?" she retorted, in a tone
of icy indifference.

He made a passionate gesture, and exclaimed:

"It is impossible!"

"Why should it be?" she asked, still keeping her eyes fixed on his
face.

Her glance stayed the words upon his lips, and he was forced to
silence. For a moment longer he remained near her, pressing his hands
to his brow, and then fled away, with a feeling of suffocation in his
throat, dreading lest he might give expression to his despair; while
she, with assumed tranquillity, once more turned to her work.

But the spell of those delicious afternoons was gone. Next day shone
fair and sunny, and Helene seemed ill at ease from the moment she
found herself alone with him. The pleasant intimacy, the happy
trustfulness, which sanctioned their sitting side by side in blissful
security, and revelling in the unalloyed joy of being together, no
longer existed. Despite his intense carefulness to give her no cause
for alarm, he would sometimes gaze at her and tremble with sudden
excitement, while his face crimsoned with a rush of blood. From her
own heart had fled its wonted happy calm; quivers ran through her
frame; she felt languid; her hands grew weary, and forsook their work.

She now no longer allowed Jeanne to wander from her side. Between
himself and her the doctor found this constant onlooker, watching him
with large, clear eyes. But what pained Helene most was that she now
felt ill at ease in Madame Deberle's company. When the latter returned
of an afternoon, with her hair swept about by the wind, and called her
"my dear" while relating the incidents of some shopping expedition,
she no longer listened with her former quiet smile. A storm arose from
the depths of her soul, stirring up feelings to which she dared not
give a name. Shame and spite seemed mingled in them. However, her
honorable nature gained the mastery, and she gave her hand to
Juliette, but without being able to repress the shudder which ran
through her as she pressed her friend's warm fingers.

The weather had now broken up. Frequent rain forced the ladies to tak