Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 2).djvu/49

 bye to. But that look never lasted more than a minute on Sister Gabrielle's face. It was as if the traveller settled his burden afresh on his shoulders, and with fresh, vigorous resolution, stepped on into the long expanse of road that went stretching away to the horizon.

"One day—I could not help it—I broke into one of those little reveries of hers.

My sister,' I said, 'sweet and beautiful as you are, how is it that you never married?'

"With lifted finger, as one speaks to a too daring child, she said only: 'Sssshh!'

"Then, with the movement of the emigrant readjusting his knapsack, she added: Allons! half-past ten! Dr. Nadaud will be here before we are ready for him!'

"From that day Sister Gabrielle avoided sitting by my bedside. She watched over me just as tenderly as before; but our talks were shorter, and I never ventured to repeat my question, as you may imagine. Nevertheless, lying there through the long days, it was impossible not to go on wondering what had sent this beautiful woman into the rough groove where I found her.

"One day I discovered that Dr. Nadaud came from the same town as herself, and I fell at once to questioning him about her. All that I could elicit from him was that her name in the world had been Jeanne D'Alcourt, and that she came of a good old Norman titled family. I did not learn much by that; it was not necessary to hear that she was noble, for she had the stamp of nobility in every line and in every pose of her body. For a talkative fellow, I thought Nadaud had remarkably little to say about his former townswoman; and, after gently sounding him once or twice on the subject, I came to the conclusion that it was useless to look to him for enlightenment, but I also came to the conclusion that Sister Gabrielle had a history.

"August came. I had been three months in St. Malo Hospital, and now the time for leaving it had arrived.

"It was early morning. A fiacre stood at the gate, with my luggage upon it, and Sister Gabrielle had come to the doorway which led into the courtyard to see me off. Early as it was, the sun was already well on his day's journey, and perhaps it was the strong glare from the white wall that made her shade her eyes so persistently with her left hand while we were saying 'Good-bye.' As for my own eyes, there was something the matter with them, too, for the landscape, or so much of it as I could see from the St. Malo hospital doorway, had taken on a strange, blurred look since I saw it from the window ten minutes before.

''Adieu, mon lieutenant! Adieu!''' cried Sister Gabrielle, in a voice meant to be very cheery.

Adieu, ma sœur!' May I come to see you and the old place, if ever I find myself in these latitudes again?'

Yes, yes, that is it; come back and see who is in your little bed under the window. Take care of the arm!' touching the sling that held it, 'Dr. Nadaud will expect a letter from you in copperplate style before another month is over. Allons! We will say, Au revoir, then, not Adieu. Bon voyage, mon lieutenant, bon voyage!'

"Another hand-grasp, and I made my way to the cab, feeling a strange intoxicated sensation at being once more on my legs in the open air after such a long stretch between the blankets. Away we rattled down the steep stone-paved street, past the queer old high houses that, as the window-shutters were swung back, seemed to open their eyes and wake up with a spirited relish for another day's bustle and work. Very different, my dear, to the lazy drawing up of a roller-blind in England is the swinging open of a pair of French persiennes. Whiffs of new bread and freshly ground coffee