“Ah! it is really not worth your while to alarm yourself,” she replied in a somewhat bitter tone; “see how much notice the others take of me! They know too well that there is nothing to be done.”
Thereupon she got up, and, taking the candle, put it on the mantel-piece and looked at herself in the glass.
“How pale I am!” she said, as she fastened her dress and passed her fingers over her loosened hair. “Come, let us go back to supper. Are you coming?”
I sat still and did not move.
She saw how deeply I had been affected by the whole scene, and, coming up to me, held out her hand, saying:
“Come now, let us go.”
I took her hand, raised it to my lips, and in spite of myself two tears fell upon it.
“Why, what a child you are!” she said, sitting down by my side again. “You are crying! What is the matter?”
“I must seem very silly to you, but I am frightfully troubled by what I have just seen.”
“You are very good! What would you have of me? I can not sleep. I must amuse myself a little. And then, girls like me, what does it matter, one more or less? The doctors tell me that the blood I spit up comes from my throat; I pretend to believe them; it is all I can do for them.”