Meantime, while Mademoiselle slept the sleep of one who has spent the night in travel, Leonard lectured, but less fluently than was usual. A man out of sorts is not an uncommon circumstance, and though his flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and occasional bungling speech were sufficiently remarkable in one ordinarily engrossed with his subject, nothing was said to further disturb his equanimity.
The lecture over, he walked across the square, less equable in spirit than he had been in the class-room; for there he had striven to retain his grasp of the topic in hand; now he was under no restraint and could surrender himself to contemplation—of what?
Of the stirring touch of a woman's hand, of the vision of a new world, a glimpse of which he had caught in the greedy depths of a woman's eyes. Even now he was hurrying to see these things again, while he was angry that they drew him back.
He overcame the attraction, and deliberately sat down upon a bench. He watched a little girl playing about, and might have remained watching had not the devil, who sometimes walks to and fro and up and down in Hampton, intervened.
The child was suddenly struck by a ball, batted by an urchin, who, on seeing what he had done, incontinently took to his heels. She fell, stunned, almost at Leonard's feet. The impact of the ball had seemed frightful, and for a moment Leonard thought she was killed.
The hotel was across the street. He carried her thither, intending to summon a physician, but on seeing some returning signs of animation, he took his burden to his room and laid her on the bed.
Berthe, her nap over, had witnessed the scene in the park. She heard Leonard lay the child on the bed in the chamber adjoining the room in which she sat, and was instantly by the bedside with her traveling bag, from which she produced restoratives. She gave her whole attention to the sufferer, while he looked on, pleased with these gentle ministrations.
"It may be a bad hurt," said Berthe, undoubted pity in her tone. "The brain may be injured."
"I will call the doctor,'" he said.
The doctor was at hand, his room being on the same corridor. His opinion was that no serious damage had been done. "Let her rest awhile. If she seems unusually drowsy, let me know," with which words and a glance at Mademoiselle, he returned to his room.