d Jeanne
from death, and of alone knowing this to be so. What was their reason
for seeking a share in her happiness? It belonged to Henri and
herself, and had it been known to another would have seemed to her
impaired in value. To her imagination it would have been as though a
stranger were participating in her love.

The priest, however, approached the bed.

"Jeanne, 'tis we, your old friends. Don't you know us?"

She nodded gravely to them in recognition, but she was unwilling to
speak to them; she was in a thoughtful mood, and she cast a look full
of meaning on her mother. The two poor men went away more heartbroken
than on any previous evening.

Three days later Henri allowed his patient her first boiled egg. It
was a matter of the highest importance. Jeanne's mind was made up to
eat it with none present but her mother and the doctor, and the door
must be closed. As it happened, Monsieur Rambaud was present at the
moment; and when Helene began to spread a napkin, by way of
tablecloth, on the bed, the child whispered in her ear: "Wait a
moment--when he has gone."

And as soon as he had left them she burst out: "Now, quick! quick!
It's far nicer when there's nobody but ourselves."

Helene lifted her to a sitting posture, while Henri placed two pillows
behind her to prop her up; and then, with the napkin spread before her
and a plate on her knees, Jeanne waited, smiling.

"Shall I break the shell for you?" asked her mother.

"Yes, do, mamma."

"And I will cut you three little bits of bread," added the doctor.

"Oh! four; you'll see if I don't eat four."

It was now the doctor's turn to be addressed endearingly. When he gave
her the first slice, she gripped his hand, and as she still clasped
her mother's, she rained kisses on both with the same passionate
tenderness.

"Come, come; you will have to be good," entreated Helene, who observed
that she was ready to burst into tears; "you must please us by eating
your egg."

At this Jeanne ventured to begin; but her frame was so enfeebled that
with the second sippet of bread she declared herself wearied. As she
swallowed each mouthful, she would say, with a smile, that her teeth
were tender. Henri encouraged her, while Helene's eyes were brimful of
tears. Heaven! she saw her child eating! She watched the bread
disappear, and the gradual consumption of this first egg thrilled her
to the heart. To picture Jeanne stretched dead beneath the sheets was
a vision of