‘Nevertheless, I have called him, and he will arrive shortly.’

Jane could not contain a groan. ‘Vincent will never let me hear the end of this.’

Anne-Marie straightened the bedclothes but had a certain consciousness to her expression, which made Jane realize that Vincent must not know that she had taken ill. Relief rising, she grasped Anne-Marie’s hand. ‘You have not told him yet?’

‘No, madame.’ Anne-Marie rested her free hand on Jane’s and kept her eyes low. ‘He was not in the laboratory, and none of the students know where he is.’

‘But he said . . .’ her voice trailed away, unable to account for his absence. The relief that she had felt upon thinking that he would not discover her weakness became confusion and concern.

‘It may be that he decided to join us at the parade after all, and we missed him in the crowd.’

Before Jane could decide on the merits of this argument, voices and footsteps in the hall announced the arrival of the doctor, a tall, slender fellow, with a shock of dark hair. He was younger than she expected a doctor to be, but exuded such an air of confidence that Jane could not help but trust him. Settling himself on a chair at her bedside, he smiled. ‘What seems to be the trouble?’

‘I am quite well. I was only overcome for a moment.’

‘I think that is true of every ailment.’ He produced a pair of horn spectacles and slipped them over his ears. ‘It only overcomes our good health for a time. So, let us see if we can determine what has overcome you now.’

Chastened, Jane submitted to reciting her history, pausing now and again when he asked questions. When she had done, he poked and prodded at her, checking the colour of her sclerotics, listening to her pulse, and other less pleasant acts.

When he finished examining her, the doctor wiped his hands on a cloth from his bag and settled back in the chair. ‘Well. You are in very good health.’

‘You see!’ Jane felt every relief that you may imagine at this pronouncement. ‘I wish you would write a note to that effect for my husband. He has been quite stubborn in insisting that I not return to work.’

‘I am glad to hear it.’ The doctor took his spectacles off and polished them. ‘Mme Vincent, you are with child.’

Jane stared at him, astonishment overcoming her powers of speech. All the French which she had so painfully learned fled her grasp, and Jane could not form the simplest question. She opened and closed her mouth, gaping like a fish, before she managed to ask. ‘Are you certain?’

‘Oh, yes. Your history made me suspect it, but examination proves the fact. I congratulate you.’