"Do not make so great haste. Will you not rest a little longer?" a kind voice said, and a soft hand came on his wrist.
"But indeed, mademoiselle, you must go away at once," he urged earnestly. "It is smallpox. Pray, go. You will take the infection."
"But me, I do not intend to go," she replied cheerfully, with her pretty foreign accent. "You need not be afraid for me, monsieur. See—I have had it. I am not in danger—not at all. You are fatigué—n'est-ce pas? It has been a long nursing—yes, so I have heard. When did you take food last?"
Denham confessed that he had not eaten for some time; he had not been hungry. Well, perhaps he was a trifle fatigué; but 'twas nothing—nothing at all. He was ready now for anything. If mademoiselle would only not put herself in danger! By way of showing his readiness, he made a movement forward; but he was forced to sit hastily down, resting his forehead on his hand. The long strain had told upon even his vigorous constitution.
"Ah!—C'est ca!" she murmured. "But you will be the better, monsieur, for a cup of coffee."
Ivor had no choice but to yield, and she moved daintily about, making such coffee as only a Frenchwoman can, and bringing it presently to his side.
"This is not right," he protested. "I cannot allow you to wait upon me, mademoiselle!"
She would listen to no remonstrances, however; and when he had disposed of it, she insisted that he should lie down on a couch in the small adjoining room, while she undertook to look after Roy. She had her friends' permission, she said, not explaining that she had refused to be forbidden; and monsieur in his present state could do no more. How long was it since he had slept? Ah, doubtless some days!
Ivor gave in, after much resistance, and in ten minutes he was again heavily asleep. Nature at last claimed her due.
When he woke, after several hours' unbroken rest, he was another man. Roy seemed much better; the doctor had paid a visit, and was gone; the room could scarcely be recognised as the same; and Ivor warmly expressed his gratitude, wondering as he did so at Lucille's look of steady sadness. She insisted on coming the next day, that he might rest and have an hour's walk.