"He beamed with happiness. But suddenly, his face clouding again, he asked me sadly 'what I would be to him.' 'Your sister,' I told him. But seeing him continue to lose the brightness he had just regained, I added gaily:
"'Yesterday, my friend, I would consent to be nothing more than mother to you. To-day I am willing to rejuvenate myself sufficiently to become your sister. Is not that great progress?'
"'So,' he cried in a transport, 'you give me leave to hope?'
"'I give you permission to hope for what I hope myself, Oliver: that one day I may feel for you a sentiment more tender than that of fraternity. But it depends upon you still more than on me.'
"'What must I do?'
"'Become a man, Oliver; a man of whom I can be proud.'
"Oliver at first gave himself up with joy to this hope; but soon he again asked, with a shade of suspicion in his voice, 'You will not make me any promises—are you thinking, then, of forsaking me?'
"'Not at all, Oliver; and moreover, here is what I propose. We shall remain in this charming retreat until you are completely recovered, then we shall join the army, and enroll in the same regiment.' And in answer to a gesture of stupefaction from Oliver, I added, 'Shall I, do you imagine, be the first woman who shares the perils of our soldiers, with her secret locked under her uniform? I wish to see you rise from rank to rank. Then will come the day, perhaps soon, when some brilliant deed will raise you to the height I dream of for you, and to our common hope. Now, Oliver, choose between suicide and the glorious future I present to you.'"
"All is now explained, worthy and great-hearted sister," exclaimed John Lebrenn.
"I am now happy to note that my influence over Oliver diminishes daily. His warlike ardor, the intoxication of his early successes, the activity of camp life—all, according to my calculation, have combined to overcome his passion. I foresaw that love would be fleeting in that warlike soul, I sought above all to snatch him from suicide, from failure. I wished by a vague hope to rekindle his dying courage, initiate him into the career of arms, which his nature called him to, and by watching over him like a mother and sharing his soldier's life, to preserve him from the pitfalls that destroy so many young men. I wished, in fine, to affirm him in the path of justice and virtue, to develop his civic character, and to render still more fervent his love for the fatherland and the Republic. Then, this self-imposed duty once fulfilled, I reserve the means of casting Oliver upon the destiny which the future seems to hold for him. Such was my project. In part it is realized. The young man's passion for war is now his only amour. Accordingly, I will soon be able to leave him."