“Sacre cœur!” she heard a voice exclaim. “Une femme!”
Then the great creature that had pinned her down moved away and Eugenia felt a hand upon her arm.
“I beg a thousand pardons,” a voice said in English. “You will never be able to forgive me. But why did you not halt when I called out to you? I am a French officer and feared you were a runaway soldier or a thief. They come now and then to our camp. But that I should allow you to be struck down by my dog! Monsieur le Duc, I am most bitterly ashamed of you. You at least should have known better.”
This last remark was addressed to the dog, in order to gain time and to help cover the young French officer’s chagrin and confusion. With his light he had of course discovered that Eugenia was wearing a nurse’s uniform, which made his act the more unpardonable. Nevertheless, as he apologized he was struggling to help her to arise.
By this time Eugenia was more or less herself again and moreover was exceedingly angry. She was frightened and hurt by her experience, but more, her dignity was upset as it had never been before.
Eugenia disdained the French officer’s assistance. Quickly as possible she got up on her feet, though still unable to speak because of a queer contraction in her throat and odd shaking of her knees. One glance she deigned to give at the great beast that had so frightened her. She could only see the outline of an immense dog, that appeared as apologetic as the man since his master’s rebuke. But Eugenia would not look at the young officer. However, it would have done little good, for she could not have seen him with any distinctness in the darkness.
Yet Eugenia would have been both amazed and annoyed if she had dreamed of how clearly the offender could see her. He had managed to turn his flashlight upon her in such a way that he had a perfect vision of her without being seen.
Curiously Eugenia was looking unusually handsome. Her cheeks were brilliantly flushed and her dark eyes glowing with a mixture of emotions. Moreover, she had beautiful hair when it was unbound, although few people realized it after she had twisted it into a tight rope to adorn her head.
“I presume your mistake was unintentional,” she remarked in an icy voice, “but please in future be more careful of the victims of your mistakes.”
Surely Eugenia had forgotten that she was speaking to an officer in the French army, for her tone was that of a severe elder addressing an erring child. She did not at present know the officer’s rank, age nor condition of life. But one is by no means sure that any possible consideration would have influenced Eugenia in her present mood.