I fixed an eager and despairing glance upon Irene. By degrees, as if her eyes took life from mine, they lost their dullness, they became clear, bright, beaming with intelligence. On her countenance, returning to life, I could follow the progress of her thoughts, of her awakening mind. She threw out her arms, and an angelic smile lighted on her lips. Too weak to raise her head, she sought her mother with her glance. Catherine bent over the bed, still holding, as I did, one of Irene's hands. After looking at us for a moment, the child gently brought together her mother's hand and mine; her eyes suffused with tears, and she wept freely. When my hand touched Catherine's, my heart received an electric shock. For a moment I heard no more, I saw no more. I held Catherine's and Irene's hands in mine, and became unconscious of the contact. It seemed to me that a flood of electricity surrounded us, and blended us in one. This impression was deep, inexplicable, almost painful. When I regained consciousness, I heard the doctor exclaiming, "She has shed tears! she is saved!" "You have given her back to me," said Catherine, falling on her knees before me. CHAPTER XXIII THE GROVE This healing crisis saved Irene. During the month of convalescence I left her neither by day nor by night. In the early days of spring, Doctor Ralph urged Madame de Fersen to go to the country with her daughter, and recommended the vicinity of Fontainebleau. Madame de Fersen having seen a very pretty cottage, called the Grove, had secured it, and the necessary repairs having been made, it was decided we should take up our residence there the first days of May. If my continuous abode at Madame de Fersen's house had been known, it would have provoked the most odious comments. Consequently, the morning after the crisis, which had proved so favourable to Irene, I told her mother that she must forbid access to her apartment to every one, with the exception of the doctor, the nurse, and one of her maids, on whose discretion she could rely. I had occupied during Irene's illness a vacant entresol, of which the windows opened on an uninhabited piece of ground, thus my return to Paris and my presence at Catherine's house was unknown to every one. Madame de Fersen took to Fontainebleau only the same people who had been in attendance on her during her little girl's illness, the nurse and two maids. The rest of the household remained in Paris. She asked me to follow her to the Grove in two days. She took her departure. The next morning I received from her most detailed instructions about finding my way to the small park gate at the Grove. At the appointed hour I was at that gate; I knocked, and it was opened. The sun was about setting, but it still threw some warm rays across the green lacework and violet clusters of an arbour of _glycynia_, under which Catherine was waiting for me with Irene, whose hand she was holding.