Poor fellow, indeed!
Sidonie gazed upon his shapely form in mute admiration. How perfect he seemed to her. How noble and graceful. Ah! could he but learn to love her!
Bruno moved gently. Another sigh—a deeper one than before—came from his lips. Monsieur Eugène was bathing his wounds with arnica and bandaging them. Bruno’s long-fringed drooping eyelids feebly opened, and he slowly looked around him.
Catherine affected an air of cool indifference, but Sidonie wore a look of absolute devotion. Bruno abruptly changed his gaze from the lame girl’s enraptured face to Madame Barrau’s, and his own became radiant for a moment. A bit of color crept into his cheeks. Catherine continued to hold his wrist while the vein was bleeding, and the contact of her soft hand sent a delicious magnetic thrill through his body.
“Thank you, Madame Catherine,” he murmured—hardly above a whisper—and then, with a smile on his lips, he again fainted away.
Catherine also smiled, but in a spirit of triumph, and Jeannille turned upon her a look of such frigidity that the gamekeeper’s wife, blushing and disconcerted, asked if the operation was not nearly over.
“A moment more; but if you are tired Jean will relieve you,” answered Monsieur Eugène. Jean Manant did not require a second bidding. With a delicacy that was wonderful in so clumsy a man, he took Bruno’s arm in his hands. In a few minutes Bruno returned to consciousness.
“Where do you suffer?” asked Monsieur Eugène.
“I am not in pain,” said Bruno, his eyes riveted on Catherine’s face. Just then the door slammed.
“Who’s there?” shouted Eugène, impatiently.