tete with her apothecary, she thought it not worth while to disturb them
in these last moments. M. de Nailles's orders had been that she was to
sit in the atelier. So she continued to sit there, doing what she had
been told to do without any qualms of conscience.

When Marien had shown Jacqueline all his drawings he asked her: "Are you
satisfied?"

But Jacqueline's hand was already on the portiere which separated the
little room from Marien's bedchamber.

"Oh! I beg pardon," she exclaimed, pausing on the threshold.

"One would think you would like to see me asleep," said Marien with some
little embarrassment.

"I never should have thought your bedroom would have been so pretty.
Why, it is as elegant as a lady's chamber," said Jacqueline, slipping
into it as she spoke, with an exciting consciousness of doing something
she ought not to do.

"What an insult, when I thought all my tastes were simple and severe,"
he replied; but he had not followed her into the chamber, withheld by an
impulse of modesty men sometimes feel, when innocence is led into
audacity through ignorance.

"What lovely flowers you have!" said Jacqueline, from within. "Don't
they make your head ache?"

"I take them out at night."