of poor J
Joseph. His (_Evidently torn before Alix
care, his wrote on it, as no words
presence, became are wanting in the text_.)
more and more
necessary. I knew not how to do anything myself, but made him my all in
all, avoiding myself every shadow of care or trouble. I must say,
moreover, that since he had married me I had a kind of fear of him and was
afraid that I should hear him speak to me of love; but he scarcely thought
of it, poor fellow:

reverence closed his lips. Thus matters stood when
one evening Joseph
entered the room
(_Opposite page of the where I was reading,
same torn sheet. Alix and standing
has again written upright before
around the rent_.) me, his hat
in his hand, said
to me that he had something to tell me. His expression was so unhappy that
I felt the tears mount to my eyes.

"What is it, dear Joseph?" I asked; and when he could answer nothing on
account of his emotion, I rose, crying:

"More bad news? What has happened to my nurse-mother? Speak, speak,
Joseph!"

"Nothing, Mme. la Viscomtesse," he replied. "My mother and Bastien, I
hope, are well. It is of myself I wish to speak."