Then, yielding to professional habit, despite the tempest raging in his brain, he mechanically felt Jeanne’s pulse.  Nevertheless, so fierce was the struggle that he remained for a time motionless, seemingly unaware that he held this wasted little hand in his own.

“Is it a violent fever?” asked Helene.

“A violent fever!  Do you think so?” he repeated.

The little hand was scorching his own.  There came another silence; the physician was awakening within him, and passion was dying from his eyes.  His face slowly grew paler; he bent down uneasily, and examined Jeanne.

“You are right; this is a very severe attack,” he exclaimed.  “My God! the poor child!”

His passion was now dead; he was solely consumed by a desire to be of service to her.  His coolness at once returned; he sat down, and was questioning the mother respecting the child’s condition previous to this attack of illness, when Jeanne awoke, moaning loudly.  She again complained of a terrible pain in the head.  The pangs which were darting through her neck and shoulders had attained such intensity that her every movement wrung a sob from her.  Helene knelt on the other side of the bed, encouraging her, and smiling on her, though her heart almost broke at the sight of such agony.

“There’s some one there, isn’t there, mamma?” Jeanne asked, as she turned round and caught sight of the doctor.

“It is a friend, whom you know.”

The child looked at him for a time with thoughtful eyes, as if in doubt; but soon a wave of affection passed over her face.  “Yes, yes, I know him; I love him very much.”  And with her coaxing air she added:  “You will have to cure me, won’t you, sir, to make mamma happy?  Oh, I’ll be good; I’ll drink everything you give me.”

The doctor again felt her pulse, while Helene grasped her other hand; and, as she lay there between them, her eyes travelled attentively from one to the other, as though no such advantageous opportunity of seeing and comparing them had ever occurred before.  Then her head shook with a nervous trembling; she grew agitated; and her tiny hands caught hold of her mother and the doctor with a convulsive grip.

“Do not go away; I’m so afraid.  Take care of me; don’t let all the others come near me.  I only want you, only you two, near me.  Come closer up to me, together!” she stammered.

Drawing them nearer, with a violent effort she brought them close to her, still uttering the same entreaty:  “Come close, together, together!”

Several times did she behave in the same delirious fashion.  Then came intervals of quiet, when a heavy sleep fell on her, but it left her breathless and almost dead.  When she started out of these short dozes she heard nothing, saw nothing—­a white vapor shrouded her eyes.  The doctor remained watching over her for a part of the night, which proved a very bad one.  He only absented himself for a moment to procure some medicine.  Towards morning, when he was about to leave, Helene, with terrible anxiety in her face accompanied him into the ante-room.