e you to live."

"Well, Josephine, since you care about it, I will try and live. Why did
not you come before and ask me? I thought I was in your way. I thought
you wanted me dead."

Josephine cast a look of wonder and anguish on Camille, but she said
nothing. She rang the bell, and, on Jacintha coming up, despatched her
to Dr. Aubertin for the patient's medicine.

"Tell the doctor," said she, "Colonel Dujardin has let fall the glass."
While Jacintha was gone, she scolded Camille gently. "How could you be
so unkind to the poor doctor who loves you so? Only think: to throw away
his medicines! Look at the ashes; they are wet. Camille, are you, too,
becoming disingenuous?"

Jacintha came in with the tonic in a glass, and retired with an
obeisance. Josephine took it to Camille.

"Drink with me, then," said he, "or I will not touch it." Josephine took
the glass. "I drink to your health, Camille, and to your glory; laurels
to your brow, and some faithful woman to your heart, who will make you
forget this folly: it is for her I am saving you." She put the glass
with well-acted spirit to her lips; but in the very action a spasm
seized her throat and almost choked her; she lowered her head that he
might not see her face, and tried again; but the tears burst from her
eyes and ran into the liquid, and her lips trembled over the brim, and
were paralyzed.

"No, no! give it me!" he cried; "there is a tear of yours in it." He
drank off the bitter remedy now as if it had been nectar.

Josephine blushed.

"If you wanted me to live, why did you not come here before?"

"I did not think you would be so foolish, so wicked, so cruel as to do
what you have been doing."

"Come and shine upon me every day, and you shall have no fresh cause of
complaint; things flourish in the sunshine that die in the dark: Rose,
it is as if the sun had come into my prison; you are pale, but you are
beautiful as ever--more beautiful; what a sweet dress! so quiet, so
modest, it sets off your beauty instead of vainly trying to vie with
it." With this he put out his hand and took her gray silk dress, and
went to kiss it as a devotee kisses the altar steps.

She snatched it away with a shudder.

"Yes, you are right," said she; "thank you for noticing my dress; it is
a beautiful dress--ha! ha! A dress I take a pride in wearing, and
always shall, I hope. I mean to be buried in it. Come, Rose. Thank you,
Camille; you are very good, you have once more prom