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Updated: July 8, 2025
Jacques, who under other circumstances might have met this imperative mode of questioning by dogged silence, or an evasive answer, was too uncertain as to what the doctor himself might have repeated to Jeanne-Marie, to attempt equivocation.
"There is a mystery somewhere," thought the doctor; "but it is no concern of mine." And so he went his way to visit his next patient. Jeanne-Marie had no fears concerning the doctor's discretion; he was a man too busy in his scattered district to have much time or inclination for gossip.
He went out into the road, and stopped a little girl of ten or twelve years, who was walking towards the village with a pitcher of water. "Do you know whether the woman who lived in this house has left?" he asked. "Jeanne-Marie she was called, I think?" The child stared up at the strange gentleman with the foreign accent: "Jeanne-Marie that used to live here?" she said. "She is dead."
I had been ill at Le Trooz, and a woman there Jeanne-Marie took care of me; but as soon as I was well and had money enough, I came to Spa, and went to the Hôtel de Madrid. Papa and I used to go there, and I knew Madame Bertrand who keeps it." "So you slept there last night," said Horace, not a little mystified at the story, but trying to elucidate some fact sufficiently plain to act upon.
"You will tell Monsieur le Docteur what I say," repeated Jeanne-Marie imperiously, "and make haste;" and she went upstairs again, and closed the bed-room with a certain emphasis, as though to prevent further discussion.
The problem seemed to be that the Witch could have magically zapped him off as far away as Santa Monica, California, had she wanted to do so. Finding him would not be an easy task. To make matters worse, poor Jeanne-Marie had become a tad too taken with MacDonald Lindsay. The wartfrogs had begun to mistrust her. "She isn't even the same kind of animal!" said Lambert, the wartfrog leader.
"Ah! how glad I am that you can go there first, and that I shall see Jeanne-Marie again; if only we do not find her ill it is so long since I have heard from her, and she used to write so regularly." "For my part," said Graham, "I wish to see the hotel at Chaudfontaine, where I first met a small person who was very rude to me, I remember."
"Louise, there, can show it to you," says Madame Monnier, pointing to the child; "run home with your water, ma petite, and then come back and show Monsieur and Madame the road to the churchyard." "And I have a favour to beg," said Madelon, turning to the woman again. "I knew Jeanne-Marie well; she was very kind to me at one time. Might I see the room in which she died?
"Am I?" said Madelon. "Have I been ill again? Where is Soeur Lucie? This is not the convent where am I?" "You are not at the convent now," answered Jeanne-Marie. "I am taking care of you, and you must lie very still, and go to sleep again when you have taken this." Madelon drank off her medicine, but she was not satisfied, and in a moment her brain was at work again.
Graham turned about to see who had spoken. He was looking as much into the sun as into the face of the speaker. It was hard to distinguish her features. But she looked like a fine white horse. "Hello?" said Graham uncertainly. "Hello," replied the voice. Whoever she was, she sounded gentle and understanding. "My name is Jeanne-Marie. Why are you so glum?"
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