The doctor meantime was gently kneading the base of the neck with his long supple fingers. Gradually the fit subsided, and Jeanne, after a few slight twitches, lay there motionless. She had fallen back in the middle of the bed, with limbs outstretched, while her head, supported by the pillow, inclined towards her bosom. One might have thought her an infant Jesus. Hélène stooped and pressed a long kiss on her brow. “Is it over?” she asked in a whisper. “Do you think she’ll have another fit?” The doctor made an evasive gesture, and then replied: “In any case the others will be less violent.” He had asked Rosalie for a glass and water-bottle. Half-filling the glass with water, he took up two fresh medicine phials, and counted out a number of drops. Hélène assisted in raising the child’s head, and the doctor succeeded in pouring a spoonful of the liquid between the clenched teeth. The white flame of the lamp was leaping up high and clear, revealing the disorder of the chamber’s furnishings. Hélène’s garments, thrown on the back of an arm-chair before she slipped into bed, had now fallen, and were littering the carpet. The doctor had trodden on her stays, and had picked them up lest he might again find them in his way. An odor of vervain stole through the room. The doctor himself went for the basin, and soaked a linen cloth in it, which he then pressed to Jeanne’s temples. “Oh, madame, you’ll take cold!” expostulated Rosalie as she stood there shivering. “Perhaps the window might be shut? The air is too raw.” “No, no!” cried Hélène; “leave the window open. Should it not be so?” she appealed to the doctor. The wind entered in slight puffs, rustling the curtains to and fro; but she was quite unconscious of it. Yet the shawl had slipped off her shoulders, and her hair had become unwound, some wanton tresses sweeping down to her hips. She had left her arms free and uncovered, that she might be the more ready; she had forgotten all, absorbed entirely in her love for her child. And on his side, the doctor, busy with his work, no longer thought of his unbuttoned coat, or of the shirt-collar that Jeanne’s clutch had torn away. “Raise her up a little,” said he to Hélène. “No, no, not in that way! Give me your hand.” He took her hand and placed it under the child’s head. He wished to give Jeanne another spoonful of the medicine. Then he called Hélène close to him, made use of her as his assistant; and she obeyed him reverently on seeing that her daughter was already more calm. “Now, come,” he said. “You must let her head lean against your shoulder, while I listen.” Hélène did as he bade her, and he bent over her to place his ear against Jeanne’s bosom. He touched her bare shoulder with his cheek, and as the pulsation of the child’s heart struck his ear he could also have heard the throbbing of the mother’s breast. As he rose up his breath mingled with Hélène’s.