“Oh, but it was very jolly there,” said Rodd.
“I don’t know what you mean by jolly,” said Morny contemptuously.
“Why, they didn’t keep you shut up. They let you roam about as you liked, didn’t they, as long as you didn’t try to escape?”
“Well—yes; but it was a long time before I went out at all,” replied Morny sadly. “For months I never left my father’s side, and for a long time I never expected that he’d recover; and as I used to sit there by his bedside, watching, I began to get to hate the English more and more, and long to get away so as to begin righting for my country again. But of course I couldn’t leave my wounded father’s side.”
“No,” said Rodd slowly and in a low voice, as if repeating the words to himself. “Of course you couldn’t leave your father’s side.”
“No,” repeated Morny softly, “I couldn’t leave my father’s side. But after a time he made me go. He said my wound would never heal—for the surgeon had told him so—if he kept me shut up day after day, and that I must go out with the other prisoners and roam about on the moor; but I said I wouldn’t leave him, and I didn’t till he told me one day that I was growing white and thin and weak, and that he could see how I was suffering from the pain in my wound.”
“Ah, yes,” said Rodd, in a low tone full of earnestness. “It must have given you terrible pain.”
“And at last he said,” continued Morny, “that if he saw me getting well it would be the best cure for his injuries, but that if I were obstinate and refused to obey him now that he was lying there weak and helpless, it would surely send him to his grave.”
“And then of course you went?” replied Rodd excitedly.
“Yes, I went then,” replied Morny, “for at last I had begun to see that he was right. And then every morning after we had been all mustered, as you call it, and were free to go outside the gates, I went out with a lot more right on to the wild desert. But I wanted to be alone, and as soon as I could I wandered away up amongst the great stones, and sat down to think and rage against myself for feeling so happy when I wanted to be miserable and in despair about our fate. For it was as if something within me was mocking at my sufferings and trying to make me laugh and feel bright and joyous, for— Oh, how well I can remember it all up there! The sun was shining brightly, and the great block of stone upon which I sat down felt hot and so different to the cold cheerless prison inside. Every here and there amongst the stones there was the beautiful soft green grass, and little low shrubs were in full blossom, some a of rich purple, and some of the brightest gold, while in two or three places far up in the blue sky the alouettes were singing like they do in France; and every puff of soft warm wind that floated by was scented with the sweet fragrance of that little herb—I forget its name—that which the bees buzz about.”