a state of excitement--if you knew how inflamed your
face is, and your eyes so feverish, your pulse must be at least eighty
to the minute--I conjure you, my dear child, not to aggravate your
symptoms by this fatal agitation."

After looking fixedly at the doctor, Adrienne returned with a slow step,
and again took her seat on the edge of the bed. "That is right," resumed
M. Baleinier: "only be reasonable; and, as I said before, let us talk
together like good friends."

"You say well, sir," replied Adrienne, in a collected and perfectly calm
voice; "let us talk like friends. You wish to make me pass for mad--is
it not so?"

"I wish, my dear child, that one day you may feel towards me as much
gratitude as you now do aversion. The latter I had fully foreseen--but,
however painful may be the performance of certain duties, we must resign
ourselves to it."

M. Baleinier sighed, as he said this, with such a natural air of
conviction, that for a moment Adrienne could not repress a movement of
surprise; then, while her lip curled with a bitter laugh, she answered:
"Oh, it's very clear, you have done all this for my good?"

"Really, my dear young lady--have I ever had any other design than to be
useful to you?"

"I do not know, sir, if your impudence be not still more odious than
your cowardly treachery!"

"Treachery!" said M. Baleinier, shrugging his shoulders with a grieved
air; "treachery, indeed! Only reflect, my poor child--do you think, if
I were not acting with good faith, conscientiously, in your interest,
I should return this morning to meet your indignation, for which I was
fully prepared? I am the head physician of this asylum, which belongs
to me--but I have two of my pupils here, doctors, like myself--and might
have left them to take care of you but, no--I could not consent to it--I
knew your character, your nature, your previous history, and (leaving
out of the question the interest I feel for you) I can treat your case
better than any one."

Adrienne had heard M. Baleinier without interrupting him; she now looked
at him fixedly, and said: "Pray, sir, how much do they pay you to make
me pass for mad?"

"Madame!" cried M. Baleinier, who felt stung in spite of, himself.

"You know I am rich," continued Adrienne, with overwhelming disdain;
"I will double the sum that they give you. Come, sir--in the name of
friendship, as you call it, let me have the pleasure of outbidding
them."

"Your keepers," said M.