"Am I not better?"

"Yes, yes," I said; "the pulse is--the pulse is--you are much better."

Then I pushed my chair a little further from the fire, and recollected

that there were several things to be said and done.

"I expected the attack would pass very quickly," I said.

"Then you know what I have been suffering from," she said, turning her

chair rapidly half-round towards me.

"I do," I answered, with emphasis.

"What is it?"

I was silent.

"Well," she said, "tell me what it is." She laughed, but her voice was

low and anxious.

"I am just wondering whether I shall tell you."

"Stuff!" she exclaimed proudly. "Am I a child?"

"You are a woman, and should be shielded from the sharp edges of

life."

"Ah!" she murmured "Not all men have thought so. And I wish you

wouldn't talk like that."

"Nevertheless, I think like that," I said. "And I'm really anxious to

save you from unnecessary annoyance."

"Then I insist that you shall tell me," she replied inconsequently. "I

will not have you adopt that attitude towards me. Do you understand? I

won't have it! I'm not a Dresden shepherdess, and I won't be treated

like one--at any rate, by you. So there!"

I was in the seventh heaven of felicity.

"If you will have it, you have been poisoned."

I told her of my suspicions, and how they had been confirmed by

Yvette's avowal. She shivered, and then stood up and came towards me.

"Do you mean to say that Carlotta Deschamps and my own maid have

conspired together to poison me simply because I am going to sing in a

certain piece at a certain theatre? It's impossible!"

"But it is true. Deschamps may not have wished to kill you; she merely

wanted to prevent you from singing, but she ran a serious risk of

murder, and she must have known it."

Rosa began to sob, and I led her back to her chair.

"I ought not to have told you to-night," I said. "But we should

communicate with the police, and I wanted your authority before doing

so."

She dried her eyes, but her frame still shook.

"I will sing 'Carmen,'" she said passionately.

"Of course you will. We must get these two arrested, and you shall

have proper protection."

"Police? No! We will have no police."

"You object to the scandal? I had thought of that."

"It is not that I object to the scandal. I despise Deschamps and

Yvette too much to take the slightest notice of either of them. I

could not have believed that women would so treat another woman." She

hid her face in her hands.

"But is it not your duty--" I began.

"Mr. Foster, please, please don't argue. I am incapable of prosecuting

these creatures. You say Yvette is locked up in the salon. Go to her,

and tell her to depart. Tell her that I shall do nothing, that I do

not hate her, that I bear her no ill-will, that I simply ignore her.

And let her carry the same message to Carlotta Deschamps."




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