Juliette, embracing Helene, as was her
wont in her most endearing moments. "Come and see me oftener."

Henri had taken Helene's fur coat in his hand, and held it
outstretched to assist her in putting it on. When she had slipped her
arms into the sleeves, he turned up the collar with a smile, while
they stood in front of an immense mirror which covered one side of the
hall. They were alone, and saw one another in the mirror's depths. For
three months, on meeting and parting they had simply shaken hands in
friendly greeting; they would fain that their love had died. But now
Helene was overcome, and sank back into his arms. The smile vanished
from his face, which became impassioned, and, still clasping her, he
kissed her on the neck. And she, raising her head, returned his kiss.

CHAPTER XVII.

That night Helene was unable to sleep. She turned from side to side in
feverish unrest, and whenever a drowsy stupor fell on her senses, the
old sorrows would start into new life within her breast. As she dozed
and the nightmare increased, one fixed thought tortured her--she was
eager to know where Juliette and Malignon would meet. This knowledge,
she imagined, would be a source of relief to her. Where, where could
it be? Despite herself, her brain throbbed with the thought, and she
forgot everything save her craving to unravel this mystery, which
thrilled her with secret longings.

When day dawned and she began to dress, she caught herself saying
loudly: "It will be to-morrow!"

With one stocking on, and hands falling helpless to her side, she
lapsed for a while into a fresh dreamy fit. "Where, where was it that
they had agreed to meet?"

"Good-day, mother, darling!" just then exclaimed Jeanne who had
awakened in her turn.

As her strength was now returning to her, she had gone back to sleep
in her cot in the closet. With bare feet and in her nightdress she
came to throw herself on Helene's neck, as was her every-day custom;
then back again she rushed, to curl herself up in her warm bed for a
little while longer. This jumping in and out amused her, and a ripple
of laughter stole from under the clothes. Once more she bounded into
the bedroom, saying: "Good-morning, mammy dear!"

And again she ran off, screaming with laughter. Then she threw the
sheet over her head, and her cry came, hoarse and muffled, from
beneath it: "I'm not there! I'm not there!"

But Helene was in no mood for play, as o