I wish to make of you a good woman. I am sure that you are repentant. I am coming to see you often. I am going to take care of you. Some day you will owe to me your proper self-respect."
And she took her hand and pressed it gently.
"You have touched me!" cried the poor girl, "you have pressed my hand."
And before Madame de Piennes could draw her hand away she had seized it, and had covered it with her kisses and her tears.
"Calm yourself, calm yourself, my dear," said Madame de Piennes, "tell me nothing more. Now I know all about it and I know you better than you know yourself. It is I who am the doctor for your head—your poor, disordered head. I shall require you to obey me, just as you do your other doctor. I will send you one of my friends who is a preacher, you will listen to him. I will select some good books for you to read. We will have some little tall^s, you and I, and then, when you are better, we will make plans for your future."
The nurse came back from the drug store with the bottle of medicine. Arsène continued to weep. Madame de Piennes pressed her hand once more, placed the roll of gold pieces upon the little table and departed, more kindly dis-
