"I have seen him," said the man; "he may come through or he may not, but in any case we desire no loafers in hospital, the space is too confined already."
"I am ordered to leave you, mon Capitaine," said Louise, entering Henri's room; "I pray God you may recover; farewell, Monsieur; I will remember your message."
"Yes—if I die, only!" said Henri; "not if I come through this and the rest of the war. I feel sick enough to-day—I wish they would leave you, mon ami, to look after me."
"They will not, they call me shirker for remaining only one night! Do not——" Louise was about to say "do not forget me," but she thought better of it and altered the sentence to "do not fail to get well".
"Not I—if it depends upon me—au revoir, mon ami, let us say, at Moscow!"
Louise left the little house with a heavy heart. "For God's sake keep an eye upon Monsieur le Capitaine," she said at parting to the little feldscher, or under-surgeon, who replied with a laugh:—
"Tiens, my friend, you are wonderfully anxious about the young man; one would think you were a woman!"
There was no arrière pensée about the remark, but poor Louise went away blushing terribly and very angry with herself for allowing herself to yield to so feminine a weakness.
Would the Baron survive? That was the question which throbbed for an answer with every beat of her heart. If he survived and remembered the love which he professed to have felt for the daughter of the old maître d'armes, oh! thought Louise, how heavenly a place the dull earth would become.
If he should not survive—well, let the first Russian bullet find its home in her heart, for all she would care to live on! And yet, Louise felt, even without Henri life was a thousand times more beautiful now that she had certain sweet memories to draw upon. "The most Holy Spirit," she reflected, "must have inspired him with that message—oh! to think that I, of all others, should have been chosen for its recipient: a message to myself, delivered into my keeping for my comfort—an inspiration in truth and indeed!"