"I will," answered Sanselme; "but I must beg that you will take her daughter out of the room."
"I can give her a bed in the closet next her mother's room. But you know if it were known, I should get into trouble, because she's a minor."
They returned to the sick room. Zelda seemed calmer. The daughter was crouched upon the floor at the side of the bed. Sanselme spoke to her gently.
"My child," he said, "I will take care of your mother to-night. You are tired, and a room is ready for you."
"No! no!" cried the child. "I cannot stay here to-night, unless I am in my mother's room."
And she looked so horrified that Sanselme was silent. He realized what this young creature must feel at the terrible life led by her mother. When the girl understood that the room she was to have could be reached only through that occupied by her mother, she said no more, but she seemed to shrink from the very air she breathed.
The unhappy Zelda had fallen into a state of prostration, that rendered her unconscious of all that was going on about her. Her daughter went to her side.
"Do not disturb her," said Sanselme, "she is asleep."
For the first time the girl looked him full in the face. "You are very kind," she said. "You knew my mother then?"