her, scarcely understanding what had been enjoined
on him. His temples throbbed convulsively, as he leaned over the
child's little crib.

"She is asleep; look at her," said Helene in a whisper.

He did not hear her; his passion would not be silenced. She was
hanging over the bed in front of him, and he could see her rosy neck,
with its wavy hair. He shut his eyes that he might escape the
temptation of kissing her, as she said to him:

"Doctor, look at her, she is so feverish. Oh, tell me whether it is
serious!"

Then, yielding to professional habit, despite the tempest raging in
his brain, he mechanically felt Jeanne's pulse. Nevertheless, so
fierce was the struggle that he remained for a time motionless,
seemingly unaware that he held this wasted little hand in his own.

"Is it a violent fever?" asked Helene.

"A violent fever! Do you think so?" he repeated.

The little hand was scorching his own. There came another silence; the
physician was awakening within him, and passion was dying from his
eyes. His face slowly grew paler; he bent down uneasily, and examined
Jeanne.

"You are right; this is a very severe attack," he exclaimed. "My God!
the poor child!"

His passion was now dead; he was solely consumed by a desire to be of
service to her. His coolness at once returned; he sat down, and was
questioning the mother respecting the child's condition previous to
this attack of illness, when Jeanne awoke, moaning loudly. She again
complained of a terrible pain in the head. The pangs which were
darting through her neck and shoulders had attained such intensity
that her every movement wrung a sob from her. Helene knelt on the
other side of the bed, encouraging her, and smiling on her, though her
heart almost broke at the sight of such agony.

"There's some one there, isn't there, mamma?" Jeanne asked, as she
turned round and caught sight of the doctor.

"It is a friend, whom you know."

The child looked at him for a time with thoughtful eyes, as if in
doubt; but soon a wave of affection passed over her face. "Yes, yes, I
know him; I love him very much." And with her coaxing air she added:
"You will have to cure me, won't you, sir, to make mamma happy? Oh,
I'll be good; I'll drink everything you give me."

The doctor again felt her pulse, while Helene grasped her other hand;
and, as she lay there between them, her eyes travelled attentively
from one to the other, as though no such advantageous opportunity of