Geneviève nervously seized her by the arm, and held her back, stammering: “No, no, stay. Don't let mamma know! With you I don't mind; but not the others--not the others! It's not my fault, I assure you. It was on finding myself all alone. Wait a bit; I'm better, and Pm not crying now.” But sudden attacks kept seizing her, causing her frail body to tremble. It seemed as though the weight of her hair was weighing down her head. As she was rolling her poor head on her folded arms, a hair-pin came out, and her hair fell over her neck, burying it in its folds. Denise, quietly, for fear of attracting attention, tried to console her. She undid her dress, and was heart-broken on seeing how fearfully thin she was. The poor girl's bosom was as hollow as that of a child. Denise took the hair by handfuls, that superb head of hair which seemed to be absorbing all her life, and twisted it up, to clear it away, and give her a little air. “Thanks, you are very kind,” said Geneviève. “Ah! I'm not very stout, am I? I used to be stouter, but it's all gone away. Do up my dress or mamma might see my shoulders. I hide them as much as I can. Good heavens! I'm not at all well, I'm not at all well.” However, the attack passed away, and she sat there completely worn out, looking fixedly at her cousin. After a pause she abruptly asked: “Tell me the truth: does he love her?” Denise felt a blush rising to her cheek. She was perfectly well aware that Geneviève referred to Colomban and Clara; but she pretended to be surprised. “Who, dear?” Geneviève shook her head with an incredulous air. “Don't tell falsehoods, I beg of you. Do me the favour of setting my doubts at rest. You must know, I feel it. Yes, you have been this girl's comrade, and I've seen Colomban run after you, and talk to her in a low voice. He was giving you messages for her, wasn't he? Oh! for pity's sake, tell me the truth; I assure you it will do me good.” Never had Denise been in such an awkward position. She lowered her eyes before this almost dumb girl, who yet guessed all. However, she had the strength to deceive her still. “But it's you he loves!” Geneviève turned away in despair. “Very well, you won't tell me anything. However, I don't care, I've seen them. He's continually going outside to look at her. She, upstairs, laughs like a bad woman. Of course they meet out of doors.” “As for that, no, I assure you!” exclaimed Denise, forgetting herself, carried away by the desire to give her, at least, that consolation. The young girl drew a long breath, and smiled feebly. Then with the weak voice of a convalescent: “I should like a glass of water. Excuse me if I trouble you. Look, over there in the sideboard.” When she got hold of the bottle, she drank a large glassful right off, keeping Denise away with one hand, the latter being afraid Geneviève might do herself harm.