"Yes."
As the two approached the quaint little building, with the small, swinging sign of "ordinary" over the door, its mistress, looking out of the window of the sick-room, witnessed the approach of her visitors. She ran quickly down-stairs to meet them, leaving her patient for the moment alone.
Claude was lying perfectly still on his clean colonial bed, conscious of nothing about him, vaguely feeling the change of air, perhaps, and the improvement of his surroundings over those of the dismal ship's cabin. But he was burning with fever, and, though the tossing of the vessel had got him into the habit of being still, he yet talked incessantly in his own language, while his wide-open eyes, roving aimlessly as they did, noted everything about him, and changed it into some familiar object of his rooms "at home." He saw Mistress Vawse leave the window, and cried after her anxiously:
"N'oubliez pas, chère Marquise, que vous m'avez promis le deuxième menuet!"
Then, through the stillness, came the murmur of voices from below. For an instant he listened intently. "Henri—tu es tard. Quelle heure est-il? Hein? Mesquin! Est-ce que votre Victorine est enfin moins cruelle?" Footsteps sounded on the stairs, but the sick man turned away his head impatiently. "Ne faites pas un tel bruit. Ma foi! J'ai une tête! Apportez-moi de l'eau, Chaumelle.—Ventre bleu!"
Claude sat suddenly up in bed with a new vision before his eyes. Very distinctly he beheld, entering the room, far in advance of his Marquise, and a step or two before some abbé, a floating picture of blue and white, with delicate ruffles, a matchless throat, grave bluish eyes, and hair neither dark nor light falling in confusion about two slender shoulders. More and more intently he sat and gazed, while his scattered senses strove at last to adjust themselves, and his breath came rapidly through his parted lips. Deborah, St. Quentin, and Miriam Vawse had stopped still, just as they entered the room. Deborah's eyes fell upon the rapt look of de Mailly, and were held spellbound. She scarcely saw what he was like, what were the color of the eyes she looked into, nor was she conscious of any part in the scene till Aimé St. Quentin quietly laid a hand upon her arm. She quivered and turned her head, till she beheld the priest's face. Then, suddenly realizing where she was, she passed her hand over her forehead and stepped slowly back, while the father, with an unreadable expression, advanced to the bedside, and Mistress Vawse, unable to comprehend just why she had stopped so long at the door, came into the room.
"CLAUDE SUDDENLY SAT UP IN BED"
"You've some medicine, Miss Debby, the doctor told me," she said, going to the girl's side.