The morning wind blew across her face. The dawn was a cold December one and yet the air was grateful. A little later Duke came and thrust his great head into Eugenia’s hand. Until this moment he had not left his place by his master’s bedside since twilight the day before. But now he too seemed to feel that there was nothing more love or vigilance could do. One must simply wait.
The landscape was particularly lovely this morning, Eugenia thought. A white frost lay upon the meadows and trees like a veil, and one could not see the devastation that the recent fighting must have brought upon the countryside. Eugenia had the right to feel rather like a prisoner, and yet she was not at this time conscious of herself. She was wondering how the Countess Amélie could live when she learned that her only son had fallen a victim to the enemy who had despoiled her land and captured her home. She was an old woman and this would be too full a measure of sorrow.
How long Eugenia stood at the window she did not know. It could scarcely have been more than a few moments, yet when she turned around she was not aware of what had influenced her. Perhaps it was Duke’s desertion, for once more he had marched over to his master’s side. Here, he stood sentinel with his eyes fixed on the young captain’s face. He no longer crouched upon the floor as he had been doing for the past twelve hours.
Straightway Eugenia experienced a sudden rushing of warm blood to her own cheeks and a flooding sense of happiness and warmth.
For Captain Castaigne was looking at her gravely, yet with entire recognition.
“I have come back to fight once more for France because of you,” he whispered. Then, in spite of his exhaustion, he tried gallantly to lift Eugenia’s fingers to his lips. But finding himself too weak, he simply lay still and smiled at her.
Utterly ridiculous in a self-possessed person like Eugenia! But because she felt a sudden overpowering inclination to burst into tears of relief at her patient’s safety, she frowned upon him sternly instead.
“You are not to stir or speak until I return,” she announced severely, and then deliberately left the room. Of course, she intended to get some simple nourishment for the young officer at once, but this was not the important reason for her withdrawal. Certainly Eugenia did not so far intend to forget her dignity as a nurse as to show emotion!
At about noon on the same day Eugenia was cheerfully working downstairs in the little French kitchen, while Captain Castaigne was sleeping quietly upstairs with the door open so that she could hear his faintest move.
For the kitchen had to be seriously considered. The supply of food necessary for an invalid was growing dangerously low in their larder, and for the next few weeks the wounded soldier must have proper nutriment. After an hour’s investigation Eugenia decided that she must go to the village and see what could be done. It would be difficult to leave her patient alone, but his life was no longer in danger. Time would bring healing, if nothing of an unexpected nature occurred.