She rolled her eyes to signify the superlative character of the tribulations attending yellow fever. "I had a lady and gentleman once--a Spanish lady and gentleman, just off the ship; both sick at once with the fever--delirious--could not tell their names. Nobody to help me but sometimes Monsieur John! I never had such a time,--never before, never since,--as that time. Four days and nights this head touched not a pillow." "And they died!" said Kristian Koppig. "The third night the gentleman went. Poor Senor! 'Sieur John,--he did not know the harm,--gave him some coffee and toast! The fourth night it rained and turned cool, and just before day the poor lady"-- "Died!" said Koppig. Zalli dropped her arms listlessly into her lap and her eyes ran brimful. "And left an infant!" said the Dutchman, ready to shout with exultation. "Ah! no, Monsieur," said Zalli. The invalid's heart sank like a stone. "Madame John,"--his voice was all in a tremor,--"tell me the truth. Is 'Tite Poulette your own child?" "Ah-h-h, ha! ha! what foolishness! Of course she is my child!" And Madame gave vent to a true Frenchwoman's laugh. It was too much for the sick man. In the pitiful weakness of his shattered nerves he turned his face into his pillow and wept like a child. Zalli passed into the next room to hide her emotion. "Maman, dear Maman," said 'Tite Poulette, who had overheard nothing, but only saw the tears. "Ah! my child, my child, my task--my task is too great--too great for me. Let me go now--another time. Go and watch at his bedside." "But, Maman,"--for 'Tite Poulette was frightened,--"he needs no care now." "Nay, but go, my child; I wish to be alone." The maiden stole in with averted eyes and tiptoed to the window--_that window_. The patient, already a man again, gazed at her till she could feel the gaze. He turned his eyes from her a moment to gather resolution. And now, stout heart, farewell; a word or two of friendly parting--nothing more. "'Tite Poulette." The slender figure at the window turned and came to the bedside. "I believe I owe my life to you," he said. She looked down meekly, the color rising in her cheek. "I must arrange to be moved across the street tomorrow, on a litter." She did not stir or speak. "And I must now thank you, sweet nurse, for your care. Sweet nurse! Sweet nurse!" She shook her head in protestation. "Heaven bless you, 'Tite Poulette!" Her face sank lower. "God has made you very beautiful, Tite Poulette!" She stirred not. He reached, and gently took her little hand, and as he drew her one step nearer, a tear fell from her long lashes. From the next room, Zalli, with a face of agonized suspense, gazed upon the pair, undiscovered. The young man lifted the hand to lay it upon his lips, when, with a mild, firm force, it was drawn away, yet still rested in his own upon the bedside, like some weak thing snared, that could only not get free. "Thou wilt not have my love, 'Tite Poulette?" No answer.