“And so I came. I remembered your love for Bruno, and knew you would help him if anybody would. And you will save him, dear, good Jean, won’t you?”
“Yes. He shall not go to prison.”
“Oh, Jean, how good you are!”
“No, no, child. It is he that is good and noble. Listen. No one knows why I would die for Bruno. But I am going to tell you, because you appreciate his worth.”
“Oh, yes, tell me.”
“Well, listen. Five years ago at the Rouvray fair, while passing the ox-stalls, I received a terrible blow from the horn of a cow, on the face. I was badly hurt and in a sorry plight, when Monsieur Morris the doctor, passing by told me I must have the wound dressed. I made light of it, but the doctor seized my arm and drew me into a little cottage, the nearest one from the spot where we were standing. It was terribly hot weather. You remember—in ’81.”
“Yes, yes, I remember.”
“As I said before, he took me by the arm and led me in. A widow and her daughter occupied the cottage. The latter gave me a drink of cold water, and from that moment I was not conscious what the doctor was doing to my face. I was too much in love with the pretty young woman to mind what he did. I watched her come and go, and my heart was hers from that moment. You can guess who it was. Yes, it was Jeanne, God bless her!”
Sidonie gave a little gasp. Jean did not realize that he was taking long strides and that the little lame girl was desperately trying to keep up with him. L’Ours continued, not noticing her discomfort:
“I said to myself, ‘God never made such a beautiful creature to be mated with a man like me.’ When the doctor had finished I thanked everybody—first Monsieur Morris, then the widow, and finally Jeanne. She smiled at me, but I was so stupid I knew not what I said. But she answered sweetly, and then I went away.”