“Doctor Bodin has advised us to go to Italy.”
“Ah! that is why Jeanne was questioning me!” exclaimed Monsieur Rambaud. “Would it give you any pleasure to go away there?”
Without vouchsafing any answer, the child clasped her little hands upon her bosom, while her pale face flushed with joy. Then, stealthily, and with some fear, she looked towards the doctor; it was he, she understood it, whom her mother was consulting. He started slightly, but retained all his composure. Suddenly, however, Juliette joined in the conversation, wishing, as usual, to have her finger in every pie.
“What’s that? Are you talking about Italy? Didn’t you say you had an idea of going to Italy? Well, it’s a droll coincidence! Why, this very morning, I was teasing Henri to take me to Naples! Just fancy, for ten years now I have been dreaming of seeing Naples! Every spring he promises to take me there, but he never keeps his word!”
“I didn’t tell you that I would not go,” murmured the doctor.
“What! you didn’t tell me? Why, you refused flatly, with the excuse that you could not leave your patients!”
Jeanne was listening eagerly. A deep wrinkle now furrowed her pale brow, and she began twisting her fingers mechanically one after the other.
“Oh! I could entrust my patients for a few weeks to the care of a brother-physician,” explained the doctor. “That’s to say, if I thought it would give you so much pleasure—”
“Doctor,” interrupted Hélène, “are you also of opinion that such a journey would benefit Jeanne?”
“It would be the very thing; it would thoroughly restore her to health. Children are always the better for a change.”