season! We went to Trouville, you know. The beach was always thronged with people. It was quite a crush. and people of the highest spheres, you know. I had visitors too. Papa came for a fortnight with Pauline. All the same, I'm glad to get home again. But I haven't given you all my news. Oh! I'll tell you later on!'
She stooped down and kissed Jeanne again; then suddenly becoming serious, she asked:
'Am I browned by the sun?'
'No; I don't see any signs of it,' replied Helene as she gazed at her.
Juliette's eyes were clear and expressionless, her hands were plump, her pretty face was full of amiability; age did not tell on her; the sea air itself was powerless to affect her expression of serene indifference. So far as appearances went, she might have just returned from a shopping expedition in Paris. However, she was bubbling over with affection, and the more loving her outbursts, the more weary, constrained, and ill became Helene. Jeanne meantime never stirred from the rug, but merely raised her delicate, sickly face, while clasping her hands with a chilly air in the sunshine.
'Wait, you haven't seen Lucien yet,' exclaimed Juliette. 'You must see him; he has got so fat.'
When the lad was brought on the scene, after the dust of the journey had been washed from his face by a servant girl, she pushed and turned him about to exhibit him. Fat and chubby-cheeked, his skin tanned by playing on the beach in the salt breeze, Lucien displayed exuberant health, but he had a somewhat sulky look because he had just been washed. He had not been properly dried, and one check was still wet and fiery-red with the rubbing of the towel. When he caught sight of Jeanne he stood stock-still with astonishment. She looked at him out of her poor, sickly face, as colorless as linen against the background of her streaming black hair, whose tresses fell in clusters to her shoulders. Her beautiful, sad, dilated eyes seemed to fill up her whole countenance; and, despite the excessive heat, she shivered somewhat, and stretched out her hands as though chilled and seeking warmth from a blazing fire.
'Well! aren't you going to kiss her?' asked Juliette.
But Lucien looked rather afraid. At length he made up his mind, and very cautiously protruded his lips so that he might not come too near the invalid. This done, he started back expeditiously. Helene's eyes were brimming over with tears. What health that child enjoyed! whereas her Jeanne was breathless after a walk round the lawn! Some mothers were very fortunate! Juliette all at once understood how cruel Lucien's conduct was, and she rated him soundly.
'Good gracious! what a fool you are! Is that the way to kiss young ladies? You've no idea, my dear, what a nuisance he was at Trouville.'
She was getting somewhat mixed. But fortunately for her the doctor now made his appearance, and she extricated herself from her difficulty by exclaiming: 'Oh, here's Henri.'
He had not been expecting their return until the evening, but she had travelled by an earlier train. She plunged into a discursive explanation, without in the least making her reasons clear. The doctor listened with a smiling face. 'At all events, here you are,' he said. 'That's all that's necessary.'
A minute previously he had bowed to Helene without speaking. His glance for a moment fell on Jeanne, but feeling embarrassed he turned away his head. Jeanne bore his look with a serious face, and unclasping her hands instinctively grasped her mother's gown and drew closer to her side.
'Ah! the rascal,' said the doctor, as he raised Lucien and kissed him on each cheek. 'Why, he's growing like magic.'
'Yes; and am I to be forgotten?' asked Juliette, as she held up her head. Then, without putting Lucien down, holding him, indeed, on one arm, the doctor leaned over to kiss his wife. Their three faces were lit up with smiles.
Helene grew pale, and declared she must now go up. Jeanne, however, was unwilling; she wished to see what might happen, and her glances lingered for a while on the Deberles and then travelled back to her mother. When Juliette had bent her face upwards to receive her husband's kiss, a bright gleam had come into the child's eyes.
'He's too heavy,' resumed the doctor as he set Lucien down again. 'Well, was the season a good one? I saw Malignon yesterday, and he was telling me about his stay there. So you let him leave before you, eh?'
'Oh! he's quite a nuisance!' exclaimed Juliette, over whose face a serious, embarrassed expression had now crept. 'He tormented us to death the whole time.'
'Your father was hoping for Pauline's sake-He hasn't declared his intentions then?'
'What! Malignon!' said she, as though astonished and offended. And then with a gesture of annoyance she added, 'Oh! leave him alone; he's cracked! How happy I am to be home again!'
Without any apparent transition, she thereupon broke into an amazing outburst of tenderness, characteristic of her bird-like nature. She threw herself on her husband's breast and raised her face towards him. To all seeming they had forgotten that they were not alone.
Jeanne's eyes, however, never quitted them. Her lips were livid and trembled with anger; her face was that of a jealous and revengeful woman. The pain she suffered was so great that she was forced to turn away her head, and in doing so she caught sight of Rosalie and Zephyrin at the bottom of the garden, still gathering parsley. Doubtless with the intent of being in no one's way, they had crept in among the thickest of the bushes, where both were squatting on the ground. Zephyrin, with a sly movement, had caught hold of one of Rosalie's feet, while she, without uttering a syllable, was heartily slapping him. Between two branches Jeanne could see the little soldier's face, chubby and round as a moon and deeply flushed, while his mouth gaped with an amorous grin. Meantime the sun's rays were beating down vertically, and the trees were peacefully sleeping, not a leaf stirring among them all. From beneath the elms came the heavy odor of soil untouched by the spade. And elsewhere floated the perfume of the last tea-roses, which were casting their petals one by one on the garden steps. Then Jeanne, with swelling heart, turned her gaze on her mother, and seeing her motionless and dumb in presence of the Deberles, gave her a look of intense anguish-a child's look of infinite meaning, such as you dare not question.
But Madame Deberle stepped closer to them, and said: 'I hope we shall see each other frequently now. As Jeanne is feeling better, she must come down every afternoon.'
Helene was already casting about for an excuse, pleading that she did not wish to weary her too much. But Jeanne abruptly broke in: 'No, no; the sun does me a great deal of good. We will come down, madame. You will keep my place for me, won't you?'
And as the doctor still remained in the background, she smiled towards him.
'Doctor, please tell mamma that the fresh air won't do me any harm.'
He came forward, and this man, inured to human suffering, felt on his cheeks a slight flush at being thus gently addressed by the child.
'Certainly not,' he exclaimed; 'the fresh air will only bring you nearer to good health.'
'So you see, mother darling, we must come down,' said Jeanne, with a look of ineffable tenderness, whilst a sob died away in her throat.
But Pierre had reappeared on the steps and announced the safe arrival of madame's seventeen packages. Then, followed by her husband and Lucien, Juliette retired, declaring that she was frightfully dirty, and intended to take a bath. When they were alone, Helene knelt down on the rug, as though about to tie the shawl round Jeanne's neck, and whispered in the child's ear:
'You're not angry any longer with the doctor, then?'
With a prolonged shake of the head the child replied 'No, mamma.'
There was a silence. Helene's hands were seized with an awkward trembling, and she was seemingly unable to tie the shawl. Then Jeanne murmured: 'But why does he love other people so? I won't have him love them like that.'
And as she spoke, her black eyes became harsh and gloomy, while her little hands fondled her mother's shoulders. Helene would have replied, but the words springing to her lips frightened her. The sun was now low, and mother and daughter took their departure. Zephyrin meanwhile had reappeared to view, with a bunch of parsley in his hand, the stalks of which he continued pulling off while darting murderous glances at Rosalie. The maid followed at some distance, inspired with distrust now that there was no one present. Just as she stooped to roll up the rug he tried to pinch her, but she retaliated with a blow from her fist which made his back re-echo like an empty cask. Still it seemed to delight him, and he was yet laughing silently when he re-entered the kitchen busily arranging his parsley.
Thenceforth Jeanne was stubbornly bent on going down to the garden as soon as ever she heard Madame
