“He said he was in attendance on two paragons of beauty, blue eyes, white teeth and arms.” “And you found us out by that?” inquired Rose, looking still more keenly at him. “Hardly; but it was my last chance of finding you, so I came. Where is Madame Raynal?” “Come into this room, dear friend. I will go and find her.” Full twenty minutes was the doctor kept waiting, and then in came Rose, gayly crying, “I have hunted her high and low, and where do you think my lady was? sitting out in the garden--come.” Sure enough, they found Josephine in the garden, seated on a low chair. She smiled when the doctor came up to her, and asked after her mother. There was an air of languor about her; her color was clear, delicate, and beautiful. “You have been unwell, my child.” “A little, dear friend; you know me; always ailing, and tormenting those I love.” “Well! but, Josephine, you know this place and this sweet air always set you up. Look at her now, doctor; did you ever see her look better? See what a color. I never saw her look more lovely.” “I never saw her look SO lovely; but I have seen her look better. Your pulse. A little languid?” “Yes, I am a little.” “Do you stay at Beaurepaire?” inquired Rose; “if so, we will come home.” “On the contrary, you will stay here another fortnight,” said the doctor, authoritatively. “Prescribe some of your nice tonics for me, doctor,” said Josephine, coaxingly. “No! I can’t do that; you are in the hands of another practitioner.” “What does that matter? You were at Paris.” “It is not the etiquette in our profession to interfere with another man’s patients.” “Oh, dear! I am so sorry,” began Josephine. “I see nothing here that my good friend Mivart is not competent to deal with,” said the doctor, coldly. Then followed some general conversation, at the end of which the doctor once more laid his commands on them to stay another fortnight where they were, and bade them good-by. He was no sooner gone than Rose went to the door of the kitchen, and called out, “Madame Jouvenel! Madame Jouvenel! you may come into the garden again.” The doctor drove away; but, instead of going straight to Beaurepaire, he ordered the driver to return to the town. He then walked to Mivart’s house. In about a quarter of an hour he came out of it, looking singularly grave, sad, and stern. CHAPTER XVII.