And the stars in the calm, azure sky?
And when the good-nights are repeated,
And all lay them down to their sleep,
Do they think of the absent and waft me
A whisper’d “good-night” while they weep?
A whisper’d “good-night” while they weep?’”
Jeanne looked up as the singer came toward her. The bright moonlight fell full upon him as he paused for a moment to examine the lock of his gun, and she saw that he was a Confederate soldier on picket duty. He resumed the song as he swung the gun back to his shoulder.
“He is like Dick,” thought the lonely girl. “I am sure that he has a kind heart, or he would not sing that song. Maybe he has a sister too.”
Summoning all her courage she spoke timidly. “Sir,” she said.
“Who goes there?” cried the startled picket with an ominous click of his weapon.