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Updated: May 12, 2025
I insist upon this because you have as good as told me that this man is your enemy, and that he is at the bottom of Jeanne's trouble. He is also my enemy. And after I have told you why you may change your determination to keep me a stranger to your trouble. If not well, you can hold your tongue then as well as now."
What contributed especially to make her feel secure was Jeanne's absence. If the young woman had been near Serge, Madame Desvarennes might have trembled. But Micheline's beautiful rival was far away, and Serge seemed very much in love with his wife. Everything was for the best. The formidable projects which Madame Desvarennes had formed in the heat of her passion had not been earned out.
Her face reminded me somewhat of Aunt Jeanne Falla's, but lacked the kindly twinkle of the eyes which redeemed Aunt Jeanne's shrewdest and sharpest speeches. She had little fiat rows of grey curls, tight to her head, on each side of her face, for all the world like little ormer shells sticking to a stone. "Monsieur Le Marchant?" she asked. "No, madame ma'm'zelle. I am Phil Carré."
They spoke to her often, sometimes three times a day, as she afterwards said, in the unbroken quiet of her prison. And though they no longer spoke of new enterprises and victories, their words were full of consolation. But it was not long that Jeanne's young and vigorous spirit could content itself with inaction.
Every moment she believed she felt Jeanne's last breath against her face; for the child's halting respiration seemed suddenly to cease. Heartbroken and overwhelmed with terror, Helene then burst into tears, which fell on the body of her child, who had thrown off the bedclothes. The doctor meantime was gently kneading the base of the neck with his long supple fingers.
They were standing in the middle of the room, half puzzled as to how they had got there, when Marcelline appeared. "We have been with Dudu," they told her, before she had time to ask them anything. "He has told us lovely stories nicer even than fairy adventures." And Marcelline smiled and seemed pleased, but not at all surprised. "A strange thing has happened," said Jeanne's father the next day.
What would have been delight formerly was now a cause for fear. She, almost an old woman! There was an incredible commotion in the business world when the news became known. The younger branch of Desvarennes had witnessed Jeanne's arrival with little satisfaction, and were still more gloomy when they learned that the chances of their succeeding to great wealth were over.
The "we" hurt Jimmie like the stab of a rusty knife. But he said only: "And you are sure? Three years ago you were sure you loved me." Jeanne's eyes were filled with pity, but she said: "That was three years ago. I was a child, and now I am a woman. In many ways you have stood still and I have gone on." "That's true," said Jimmie; "you always were too good for me."
It is curious you may scarcely believe what I say but it is true that we look out upon your big world and laugh at it and dislike it. I guess that I have been taught to hate it since I can remember." There was a little tremble in Jeanne's voice, an instant's quivering of her chin.
But the bran in bread was irritating to her bowels, she could no longer digest raw vegetables or most raw fruit. Jeanne's vital force was low; her healing took time. She started on a long fast supported by powdered vitamins, vegetable broth and herb teas, but after three weeks was too weak to do her own enemas at home and could not shop for vegetables to cook into broth.
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