Conscious of the wrong of gazing upon this solitary woman, Traverse forced his looks away and passed on down-stairs, where he again met the old doctor and Mademoiselle Angele at breakfast. After breakfast Doctor St. Jean invited his young assistant to accompany him on a round of visits to the patients, and they went immediately up to the hall, at the end of which Traverse had slept. "There are our incurables, but they are not violent; incurables never are! Poor Mademoiselle! She has just been conveyed to this ward," said the doctor, opening the door of the first cell on the right at the head of the stairs and admitting Traverse at once into the presence of the beautiful, black-haired, snow-faced woman, who had so much interested him. "This is my friend, Doctor Rocke, Mademoiselle; Doctor, this is my friend, Mademoiselle Mont de St. Pierre!" Traverse bowed profoundly, and the lady arose, curtsied and resumed her seat, saying, coldly: "I have told you, Monsieur, never to address me as Mademoiselle; you persist in doing so, and I shall never notice the insult again." "Ten thousand pardons, madame! But if madame will always look so young, so beautiful, can I ever remember that she is a widow?" The classic lip of the woman curled in scorn, and she disdained a reply. "I take an appeal to Monsieur Le Docteur--is not madame young and beautiful?" asked the Frenchman, turning to Traverse, while the splendid, black eyes of the stranger passed from the one to the other. Traverse caught the glance of the lady and bowed gravely. It was the most delicate and proper reply. She smiled almost as gravely, and with a much kinder expression than any she had bestowed upon the Frenchman. "And how has madame fared during my absence so long? The servants--have they been respectful? Have they been observant? Have they been obedient to the will of madame? Madame has but to speak!" said the doctor, bowing politely. "Why should I speak when every word I utter you believe, or affect to believe, to be the ravings of a maniac? I will speak no more," said the lady, turning away her superb dark eyes and looking out of the window. "Ah, madame will not so punish her friend, her servant, her slave!" A gesture of fierce impatience and disgust was the only reply deigned by the lady. "Come away; she is angry and may become dangerously excited," said the old doctor, leading the way from the cell. "Did you tell me this lady is one of the incurables?" inquired Traverse, when they had left her apartment. "Bah! yes, poor girl, vera incurable, as my sister would say." "Yet she appears to me to be perfectly sane, as well as exceedingly beautiful and interesting."