Monsieur Le Baron.

She sprang up . How long she had slept ! The sun was shining brightly . " Mademoiselle , do wake up . " She unbolted the door . Jeanette entered , crying , " We are all going to die , Mademoiselleand lose our lodgers too "

, , she said in answer to Celeste ' s eager questions . " No one will stay , and Picot says I must tell you to go , and wdio is going to take care of the lady , I should like to know . "

" Jeanette , he quiet , and tell me what is the matter , " and Celeste laid her hand firmly on the woman ' s shoulder . "Well , Mademoiselle , the English lady has been ' tired , oh , so tired' for days , she says , hut she would go out . Last night she was worse . She was ill all nightand

, now her cousin , the young doctor , says he is afraid it is small-pox she is to have . Her maid has gone this morning . The artist is going—hark !—and Picot tells you to go . They will put barricades in the street , and no one will come near us , and

we wall all die . And the other lady does nothing but cry , and there are two doctors in the house . " Jeanette was continuing her lamentations , when Celeste stopped her . " Who is with the lady now ?" " No one , Monsieur le Baron says , " but

Celeste was half way down the stairs before she finished . At the foot she met the young doctor . "Monsieur , " she said humbly , " I have seen much sickness , will you let me take care of the lady 1 " His face brightened . " Have you had the disease ?"

" No , but I am not afraid . " He looked doubtfully at her . " I will see the other physician . " They came back together . " Ah , Mademoiselle , you here ? " and the elder of the two held out his hand . " You were in the hospital of the convent

for some time , were you not ? My friend , you cannot do better , " he said , turning to the young man . " You are not afraid , Mademoiselle ? that is right , come then . " So Celeste entered the sick room , which for so many long days and nights she was destined not to leave . She bestowed the

most unwearied care upon her ] Jatient . "I am saving her for him , " she would say to herself . The doctor was loud in his praises , and one day the Baron stopped her as she crossed the hall . "Celeste "—

" I will not speak to you , Monsieur , it may be death , " she said decidedly , and , eluding his extended hand , she passed quickly by him . The doctor watched her closely , and one day he said , " Mademoiselle , you must go and rest , your patient is out of dangerand

, I have provided a nurse to relieve you . " " Will she live ? " and Celeste lifted her great hollow eyes to his face . " Yes , thanks to your nursing . I think there is no fear now . " So Celeste went slowly up to her room

, and lay down on the bed , from which she did not rise again for many weeks , for while down stairs the life she had saved grew daily stronger and stronger , she lay moaning and tossing in the wildest delirium of fever . Jeanette , forgetting her fears ,

nursed her tenderly , and even when the dreaded disease appeared , she indignantly refused to leave her post , and often she would sit wiping the tears from her eyes as she listened to the ravings in which were revealed all the sufferings of the jiast months . There was another listener too

, one who would stand outside the door , his head bent , and hands clasped closely together as if in prayer , and sometimes when she would cry piercingly , " Rudolf ! Budolf ! " and then say plaintively , "He has forgotten me , " and sometimes , "He

does not care that I am hungry , " he would turn away with a groan . At last the fight was fought , and Picot coining out of the darkened room touched the Baron ' s arm : " She will live , Monsieur , " he said tremulously . "Thank God !"

One day when the sunshine was shining brightly in at the window , and Celeste , white and frail as the lilies in her hand , leaned wearily back among the cushions of her chair , Jeanette came in , her face shining with some great secret . "The Baron wishes to see you , Mademoiselle . "

" Oh ! I cannot , " and Celeste ' s lips trembled . " Ah ! Mademoiselle , and he has brought you flowers every day , and would stand all night sometimes at the door to hear of you , Picot says . " " But my face , Jeanette , " " It is all gone , Mademoiselle . You have been ill so long you have a right to look pale . "