"Wait a few more days. If your wound should reopen, you would be kept in bed for a long, long time. Be reasonable, monsieur le comte; it is really a miracle that you have recovered."
"Thanks, doctor; but henceforth give all your attention to the child."
The doctor went away, but Jarnonville soon came to stay with the count. On this occasion he did not find him taciturn and pensive as usual. The count asked him with much eagerness if he had seen his daughter, questioned him about her condition, and told him what he had learned from the doctor. And as the chevalier never tired of talking about Blanche, those two men, whose aspect was sometimes so stern and forbidding, passed a large part of the day talking about a child.
The next day, the doctor declared that his opinion was confirmed, and that the child had the measles—a disease attended with no danger, if not complicated by other circumstances.
Léodgard did not allow five minutes to pass without ringing and sending servants to inquire for his daughter. He no longer hesitated to give her that title when he spoke of her; and Jarnonville could not conceal his joy when the count at last uttered that word.
On the third day, after inquiring for Blanche, he exclaimed:
"Oh! how fortunate her mother is! She is with her, she can see her, if nothing more; and I—who had become so accustomed to seeing her every day—how long the time seems to me now!"
On the following day, the servants' faces were more downcast, and Jarnonville himself, although he said that the disease was following its regular course, seemed more anxious, less cheerful, concerning Blanche's safety.
After scrutinizing the faces of all those about him, Léodgard summoned a valet and ordered him to help him to dress.
"What! you intend to rise?" cried Jarnonville; "that is most imprudent; the doctor still forbids it."