They were not to be found; but she shrugged her shoulders with supreme indifference when it occurred to her that she could very well run out in the flimsy house-slippers she had on her feet.  She was now turning the wardrobe topsy-turvy in her search for her shawl.  Jeanne crept up to her with a coaxing air:  “Then you’re not going to the doctor’s, mother darling?”

“No.”

“Say that you’ll take me all the same.  Oh! do take me; it will be such a pleasure!”

But Helene had at last found her shawl, and she threw it over her shoulders.  Good heavens! only twelve minutes left—­just time to run.  She would go—­she would do something, no matter what.  She would decide on the way.

“Mamma dear, do please take me with you,” said Jeanne in tones that grew lower and more imploring.

“I cannot take you,” said Helene; “I’m going to a place where children don’t go.  Give me my bonnet.”

Jeanne’s face blanched.  Her eyes grew dim, her words came with a gasp.  “Where are you going?” she asked.

The mother made no reply—­she was tying the strings of her bonnet.

Then the child continued:  “You always go out without me now.  You went out yesterday, you went out to-day, and you are going out again.  Oh, I’m dreadfully grieved, I’m afraid to be here all alone.  I shall die if you leave me here.  Do you hear, mother darling?  I shall die.”

Then bursting into loud sobs, overwhelmed by a fit of grief and rage, she clung fast to Helene’s skirts.

“Come, come, leave me; be good, I’m coming back,” her mother repeated.

“No, no!  I won’t have it!” the child exclaimed through her sobs.  “Oh! you don’t love me any longer, or you would take me with you.  Yes, yes, I am sure you love other people better.  Take me with you, take me with you, or I’ll stay here on the floor; you’ll come back and find me on the floor.”

She wound her little arms round her mother’s legs; she wept with face buried in the folds of her dress; she clung to her and weighed upon her to prevent her making a step forward.  And still the hands of the clock moved steadily on; it was ten minutes to three.  Then Helene thought that she would never reach the house in time, and, nearly distracted, she wrenched Jeanne from her grasp, exclaiming:  “What an unbearable child!  This is veritable tyranny!  If you sob any more, I’ll have something to say to you!”

She left the room and slammed the door behind her.  Jeanne had staggered back to the window, her sobs suddenly arrested by this brutal treatment, her limbs stiffened, her face quite white.  She stretched her hands towards the door, and twice wailed out the words:  “Mamma! mamma!” And then she remained where she had fallen on a chair, with eyes staring and features distorted by the jealous thought that her mother was deceiving her.