"And my friends, how are they? Mademoiselle Zulma and Sieur Sarpy?"
"They grieve at your misfortune and pray for your recovery. Mademoiselle's chief regret is that she cannot be at your side."
A radiance passed over the sufferer's face, and he said:
"Does she know in whose kind hands I am?"
"She does and that is her only consolation."
It was Pauline's turn to betray her emotion, by averting her head and wiping the tears from her eyes.
"Here are a few lines from her pen," continued Batoche, "written not many hours ago."
Cary held out his hand for the paper, partially raising himself on the pillow in his eagerness as he did it. He would have asked that it be read to him, when Batoche interposed with that quiet authority so familiar to him.
"Not to-night, Captain. Keep it for your first joy on awakening to-morrow morning."
The sick man smilingly acquiesced, and handed it to Pauline, saying: