But Jeanne paid no heed, never once heard her. Trembling from head to foot, stamping on the ground, and choking with rage, she again and again repeated, “I will! I will!” in a voice that grew more and more hoarse and broken; and her hands convulsively gripped hold of Monsieur Rambaud’s arm, which she twisted with extraordinary strength. In vain did Hélène threaten her. At last, perceiving her inability to quell her by severity, and grieved to the heart by such a display before so many people, she contented herself by saying gently: “Jeanne, you are grieving me very much.” The child immediately quitted her hold and turned her head. And when she caught sight of her mother, with disconsolate face and eyes swimming with repressed tears, she on her side burst into loud sobs, and threw herself on Hélène’s neck, exclaiming in her grief: “No, mamma! no, mamma!” She passed her hands over her mother’s face, as though to prevent her weeping. Hélène, however, slowly put her from her, and then the little one, broken-hearted and distracted, threw herself on a seat a short distance off, where her sobs broke out louder than ever. Lucien, to whom she was always held up as an example to follow, gazed at her surprised and somewhat pleased. And then, as Hélène folded up her work, apologizing for so regrettable an incident, Juliette remarked to her: “Dear me! we have to pardon children everything. Besides, the little one has the best of hearts, and is grieved so much, poor darling, that she has been already punished too severely.” So saying she called Jeanne to come and kiss her; but the child remained on her seat, rejecting the offer of forgiveness, and still choking with tears. Monsieur Rambaud and the doctor, however, walked to her side, and the former, bending over her, asked, in tones husky with emotion: “Tell me, my pet, what has vexed you? What have I done to you?” “Oh!” she replied, drawing away her hands and displaying a face full of anguish, “you wanted to take my mamma from me!” The doctor, who was listening, burst into laughter. Monsieur Rambaud at first failed to grasp her meaning. “What is this you’re talking of?” “Yes, indeed, the other Tuesday! Oh! you know very well; you were on your knees, and asked me what I should say if you were to stay with us!” The smile vanished from the doctor’s face; his lips became ashy pale, and quivered. A flush, on the other hand, mounted to Monsieur Rambaud’s cheek, and he whispered to Jeanne: “But you said yourself that we should always play together?” “No, no; I did not know at the time,” the child resumed excitedly. “I tell you I don’t want it. Don’t ever speak to me of it again, and then we shall be friends.” Hélène was on her feet now, with her needlework in its basket, and the last words fell on her ear. “Come, let us go up, Jeanne,” she said; “your tears are not pleasant company.”