She now no longer allowed Jeanne to wander from her side. Between himself and her the doctor found this constant onlooker, watching him with large, clear eyes. But what pained Hélène most was that she now felt ill at ease in Madame Deberle’s company. When the latter returned of an afternoon, with her hair swept about by the wind, and called her “my dear” while relating the incidents of some shopping expedition, she no longer listened with her former quiet smile. A storm arose from the depths of her soul, stirring up feelings to which she dared not give a name. Shame and spite seemed mingled in them. However, her honorable nature gained the mastery, and she gave her hand to Juliette, but without being able to repress the shudder which ran through her as she pressed her friend’s warm fingers. The weather had now broken up. Frequent rain forced the ladies to take refuge in the Japanese pavilion. The garden, with its whilom exquisite order, became transformed into a lake, and no one dared venture on the walks, on account of the mud. However, whenever the sun peeped out from behind the clouds, the dripping greenery soon dried; pearls hung from each little blossom of the lilac trees; and under the elms big drops fell splashing on the ground. “At last I’ve arranged it; it will be on Saturday,” said Madame Deberle one day. “My dear, I’m quite tired out with the whole affair. Now, you’ll be here at two o’clock, won’t you? Jeanne will open the ball with Lucien.” And thereupon, surrendering to a flow of tenderness, in ecstasy over the preparations for her ball, she embraced both children, and, laughingly catching hold of Hélène, pressed two resounding kisses on her cheeks. “That’s my reward!” she exclaimed merrily. “You know I deserve it; I have run about enough. You’ll see what a success it will be!” But Hélène remained chilled to the heart, while the doctor, with Lucien clinging to his neck, gazed at them over the child’s fair head. CHAPTER IX. In the hall of the doctor’s house stood Pierre, in dress coat and white cravat, throwing open the door as each carriage rolled up. Puffs of dank air rushed in; the afternoon was rainy, and a yellow light illumined the narrow hall, with its curtained doorways and array of green plants. It was only two o’clock, but the evening seemed as near at hand as on a dismal winter’s day.