some days before the
1st of February. There was but a week longer to work: and this year
she must abandon the idea of sending to the Exposition.

Some artists who had seen her picture had encouraged her very much;
she could count, in their opinion, on brilliant success. This she
desired with all her heart: first, from that noble thirst of glory
which God has implanted in the souls of artists; and, secondly, from
the influence it would have on the prospects of her little Jules, whom
she loved with a mother's tenderness, and whom she wished to be able
to endow with all the treasures of education. This disappointment,
these long hours of toil, rendered so vain at the very moment when
she looked forward to receive her reward, so depressed the young
artist, that she became dangerously ill.

Mlle d'Orbe had very few friends, as she was an orphan, and lived in
great retirement; she found herself therefore completely left to the
care of her young attendant. When Jules met Henry at the
drawing-school he told him of his sister's illness: Henry informed his
mother, and Mme G---- immediately hastened to Mlle d'Orbe, whom she
found in the delirium of a fever from which she had been suffering for
some days. The servant said that her mistress had refused to send for
a doctor, pretending that her illness did not signify. Mme G----,
terrified at the state of her young friend, went out and soon returned
with Dr Raymond.

The invalid was delirious: she unceasingly repeated the
words--'portrait,' 'Anna Boleyn,' 'exposition,' 'fortune,'
'disappointed hopes;' which plainly indicated the cause of her
illness, and brought tears into the eyes of Mme G----. 'Alas!' she
said, 'it is on my account she suffers: I am the cause of her not
finishing her picture. Doctor, I am very unfortunate.'

'All may be repaired,' replied the doctor: 'if you will promise to
nurse the invalid, I will answer for her recovery.'

In fact, Mme G---- never left the sick-bed of Mlle d'Orbe. The
doctor visited her twice in the day, and their united care soon
restored the health of the interesting artist.

Mademoiselle was scarcely convalescent when she went to the Exposition
of paintings at the Louvre, of which she had heard nothing--the doctor
and Mme G---- having, as she thought, avoided touching on a subject
which might pain her. She passed alone through the galleries, crowded
with distinguished artists and elegantly-dressed ladies, saying to
herself that perhap