In his turn the doctor now seemed to be embarrassed. He rose and
offered his chair to Helene; but although she had come with the
intention of remaining a quarter of an hour, she declined to sit down,
on the plea that she was in a great hurry.

Meanwhile, Mother Fetu, still rolling her head to and fro, had
stretched out her hand, and the parcel of linen had vanished in the
bed. Then she resumed:

"Oh, what a couple of good souls you are! I don't wish to offend you;
I only say it because it's true. When you have seen one, you have seen
the other. Oh, dear Lord! give me a hand and help me to turn round.
Kind-hearted people understand one another. Yes, yes, they understand
one another."

"Good-bye, Mother Fetu," said Helene, leaving the doctor in sole
possession. "I don't think I shall call to-morrow."

The next day, however, found her in the attic again. The old woman was
sound asleep, but scarcely had she opened her eyes and recognized
Helene in her black dress sitting on the chair than she exclaimed:

"He has been here--oh, I really don't know what he gave me to take,
but I am as stiff as a stick. We were talking about you. He asked me
all kinds of questions; whether you were generally sad, and whether
your look was always the same. Oh, he's such a good man!"

Her words came more slowly, and she seemed to be waiting to see by the
expression of Helene's face what effect her remarks might have on her,
with that wheedling, anxious air of the poor who are desirous of