rth considering, deuce
take it! M. de La Perriere, one of the Empress's secretaries, had been
directed by her to visit the shelter of Bethlehem. Jenkins had come to
take the Nabob to the secretary's office at the Tuileries and make
inquiries. That visit to Bethlehem meant a cross for him.

"Come, let us be off; I am with you, my dear doctor."

He bore Jenkins no ill-will for disturbing him, and he feverishly tied
his cravat, forgetting under the stress of his new emotion the
agitation of a moment before, for with him ambition took precedence of
everything.

While the two men talked together in undertones, Felicia, standing
before them, with quivering nostrils and lip curling in scorn, watched
them as if to say: "Well! I am waiting."

Jansoulet apologized for being obliged to interrupt the sitting; but a
visit of the utmost importance--She smiled pityingly.

"Go, go. At the point where we are now, I can work without you."

"Oh! yes," said the doctor, "the bust is almost finished. It's a fine
piece of work," he added, with the air of a connoisseur.

And, relying on the compliment to cover his retreat, he was slinking
away, crestfallen; but Felicia fiercely called him back:

"Stay, you. I have something to say to you."

He saw by her expression that he must comply, under pain of an
outbreak.

"With your permission, my friend? Mademoiselle has a word to say to me.
My coupe is at the door. Get in, I will be with you in a moment."

When the studio door closed upon those heavy departing footsteps, they
looked each other in the face.

"You must be either drunk or mad to venture to do such a thing. What!
you presume to enter my studio when I do not choose to receive? Why
this violence? By what right?"

"By the right that desperate, unconquerable passion gives."

"Be quiet, Jenkins; those are words that I do not wish to hear. I let
you come here through pity, through habit, because my father was fond
of you. But never speak to me again of your--love"--she said the word
very low, as if it were a disgrace--"or you will see me no more, even
though I should be driven to die in order to escape you for good and
all."

A child taken in fault does not bend his head more humbly than Jenkins
as he replied:

"True--I was wrong. A moment of madness, of blindness. But why do you
take pleasure in tearing my heart as you do?"

"As if I were thinking of you!"

"Whether you are thinking of me or not, I am here, I see what i