But her head swam the moment she lifted it from the pillow, and she sank down again with closed eyes and drawn brows.
"In a moment," she whispered.
"Permit me," said Pierre quietly; and slipped his arm under her pillow.
She looked up sharply to protest, but the words died on her lips. She saw that he would not be denied.
He supported her with absolute steadiness while she drank, not uttering a word. Finally, he lowered her again, and spoke:
"It is time that your wound was attended to. With your permission I will proceed with it at once."
"Is it serious, monsieur?" she asked.
"I can tell you better when I have seen it," he rejoined, beginning to loosen the bandage. "Does it pain you?" as she winced.
"A little," she acknowledged, with quivering lips.
He glanced at her, and for the first time in all her experience of him he spoke with a hint of kindness.