Ever since coming to London, she had prepared herself for the catastrophe. No one, not even kind-hearted Mrs. Tate, could imagine the agony of mind she had endured. And it was all for Jeanne! Her very sufferings had fed her love for the child. If she and Jules could go away with Jeanne, far away, where they would never hear or think of performances again, how happy they would be! But she must go on with her work; she ought to fight against her weakness. Jules had said she would grow strong again; she had always believed what he said, and perhaps he was right now. Perhaps after a rest she would want to go back to the ring. But she was afraid, she was afraid! Poor little Jeanne! Every few moments she ran into the room where Jeanne was taking her mid-day sleep. She wanted to clasp the child to her breast and walk up and down the room with her. But for several weeks she had not dared to hold her in her arms for fear of dropping her from nervousness. Instead of going directly to the Hippodrome, Jules turned into Piccadilly, where he had seen the sign of a French physician. He had suddenly decided to seek further medical advice before speaking to Marshall, and he did not propose to trust Blanche's case to another Englishman. He was obliged to wait in Dr. Viaud's outer office for more than an hour. The Doctor received him with what seemed to Jules an almost suspicious courtesy; but this disappeared as soon as he explained that he was French. Jules was gratified by the interest paid to his repetition of Blanche's confession of the night before. The Doctor did not interrupt till Jules had mentioned the advice given by the English physician. "Broughton!" he exclaimed, repeating the name after Jules. "You couldn't have consulted a better man. He's at the head of his profession here in London." When he had questioned Jules about Blanche's symptoms, he said thoughtfully: "I cannot add anything to the advice Dr. Broughton has given,--that is, of course, with my present knowledge of the case. But I have absolute confidence in his judgment. The pains in the back I do not fear so much as the terrible apprehension that you say haunts your wife. In itself that is, of course, great suffering; and the consequences may be fatal. Your wife's dive requires iron nerve, and that is being constantly weakened by her continual worrying. I agree with Dr. Broughton that she at least needs a rest as soon as possible. There can't be two opinions about that. But I should not like to interfere with Dr. Broughton's--" Jules understood at once, and rose from his seat. "I merely wanted to see what you thought. If you had disagreed--" "Ah, but Dr. Broughton is very reliable!" said the Frenchman, with a smile and a shrug, as if afraid of even a suggestion of professional discourtesy.