great fatigue that she had been forced, she said, to keep her room.

However, Madame de Jonquiere, who managed the ward, treated her with
good-natured tolerance. "Ah! my poor friends," said she, "there will be
plenty of time for you to exert yourselves. Get to sleep if you can, and
your turn will come when I can no longer keep up." Then addressing her
daughter, she resumed: "And you would do well, darling, not to excite
yourself too much if you wish to keep your head clear."

Raymonde smiled and gave her mother a reproachful glance: "Mamma, mamma,
why do you say that? Am I not sensible?" she asked.

Doubtless she was not boasting, for, despite her youthful, thoughtless
air, the air of one who simply feels happy in living, there appeared in
her grey eyes an expression of firm resolution, a resolution to shape her
life for herself.

"It is true," the mother confessed with a little confusion, "this little
girl is at times more sensible than I am myself. Come, pass me the
cutlet--it is welcome, I assure you. Lord! how hungry I was!"

The meal continued, enlivened by the constant laughter of Madame
Desagneaux and Raymonde. The latter was very animated, and her face,
which was already growing somewhat yellow through long pining for a
suitor, again assumed the rosy bloom of twenty. They had to eat very
fast, for only ten minutes now remained to them. On all sides one heard
the growing tumult of customers who feared that they would not have time
to take their coffee.

All at once, however, Pierre made his appearance; a fit of stifling had