She held the kettle before her, and Helene, for the moment astonished,
was forced to rise. "Oh, yes! thank you!"

She no longer had an excuse to remain, and went away slowly and
regretfully. When she reached her room she was at a loss what to do
with the kettle. Then suddenly within her there came a burst of
passionate love. The torpor which had held her in a state of
semi-unconsciousness gave way to a wave of glowing feeling, the rush
of which thrilled her as with fire. She quivered, and memories
returned to her--memories of her passion and of Henri.

While she was taking off her dressing-gown and gazing at her bare
arms, a noise broke on her anxious ear. She thought she had heard
Jeanne coughing. Taking up the lamp she went into the closet, but
found the child with eyelids closed, seemingly fast asleep. However,
the moment the mother, satisfied with her examination, had turned her
back, Jeanne's eyes again opened widely to watch her as she returned
to her room. There was indeed no sleep for Jeanne, nor had she any
desire to sleep. A second fit of coughing racked her bosom, but she
buried her head beneath the coverlet and stifled every sound. She
might go away for ever now; her mother would never miss her. Her eyes
were still wide open in the darkness; she knew everything as though
knowledge had come with thought, and she was dying of it all, but
dying without a murmur.

CHAPTER XXII.

Next day all sorts of practical ideas took possession of Helene's
mind. She awoke impressed by the necessity of keeping watch over her
happiness, and shuddering with fear lest by some imprudent step she
might lose Henri. At this chilly morning hour, when the room still
seemed asleep, she felt that she idolized him, loved him with a
transport which pervaded her whole being. Never had she experienced
such an anxiety to be diplomatic. Her first thought was that she must
go to see Juliette that very morning, and thus obviate the need of any
tedious explanations or inquiries which might result in ruining
everything.

On calling upon Madame Deberle at about nine o'clock she found her
already up, with pallid cheeks and red eyes like the heroine of a
tragedy. As soon as the poor woman caught sight of her, she threw
herself sobbing upon her neck exclaiming that she was her good angel.
She didn't love Malignon, not in the least, she swore it! Gracious
heavens! what a foolish affair! It would have killed her--th