"She is suffering, and will not tell me," thought the old man. "She is dying like a flower scorched by too fierce a sunbeam."
And the old man wept.
II.
SERAPHITA.
In the course of the evening David came into the drawing-room.
"I know who is coming," said Seraphita in a sleepy voice. "Wilfrid may come in."
On hearing these words, a man at once appeared, and came to sit down by her.
"My dear Seraphita, are you ill? You look paler than usual."
She turned languidly towards him, after tossing back her hair like a pretty woman overpowered by sick headache and too feeble to complain.