Finally Captain Castaigne moved away from the soft pressure of his nurse’s hands. As he moved with more strength than Eugenia believed him to possess, for the next instant she watched him even more closely.
He was muttering a number of confused phrases, now and then what sounded like a command to his soldiers. Then all at once he stopped and laughed a little foolishly.
“Eugenia Peabody,” he pronounced the words distinctly, although with a French accent which made the name more attractive than it ever had before. “Eugenié Paybodé” was the way it sounded to its possessor.
Eugenia stared more closely. Could Captain Castaigne know her once again? Since the first night after his injury he never seemed to have been aware of her identity.
A further glance into his eyes showed this was not true. There was no sign of intelligence there, only vagueness and a confused groping in the dark.
“Mademoiselle Paybodé, she is what you call in English ‘an old maid.’”
Then the young officer laughed boyishly, as if he and a friend had been discussing a new acquaintance and found the subject amusing.
Eugenia flushed. It was absurd, but for the moment she felt hurt and angry. Few of us like to be the subject of a joke and Eugenia was not gifted with much sense of humor. But a little later she had the grace to be ashamed of herself. However she might dislike the young Frenchman whom she had been nursing so faithfully, she must remember that he had unfailing good manners. Their one unfortunate meeting had been due to a mistake on his part. Afterwards he had done all that he could to make amends. Certainly he would be the last person to be rude to her under the present circumstances if he had known what he was saying! Moreover, the minute after he continued talking at random upon subjects which had no possible connection.
Soon after, glancing at her watch, Eugenia got up and crossed the room. The next instant she returned in order to take her patient’s temperature. His fever was not so high, but then his pulse and heart seemed to be growing dangerously weaker. Giving him the necessary stimulant, she again stood by his bedside, watching and waiting.
Captain Castaigne was no longer talking in his delirium. He had grown quieter and was staring, yet with an unseeing expression, at the ceiling overhead. At this moment Eugenia discovered that the dawn had come at last. A shaft of yellow light had entered the high window and shone across the wounded officer’s face. It gave him such a curiously transfigured look that for an instant Eugenia was frightened. But the next, realizing what had occurred, she walked across to the window and stood looking out at the country.