“There is small wonder that Miss Paybodé is not so strong as she once was. When I think of all that she went through in those miserable weeks with me, I cannot see how she endured it. It must have killed any one else. Then there was the secrecy and the long concealment even when I had sufficiently recovered to have been made a prisoner by the enemy. Such strength, such courage! Mon Dieu, how shall I ever repay her?”
The young French officer looked so unnecessarily tragic that to save the situation his three friends laughed.
“Oh, goodness, you don’t have to repay Eugenia! I am sure she really loved taking care of you,” Barbara interposed. “Besides, I expect she bullied you abominably. She adores bossing people. But there is my Countess, I know she wishes to speak to me first, since I’m sure she likes me best. Au revoir.” And Barbara ran off in the direction of the garden, where the figure of the Countess Amélie had just appeared, leaving her three companions to follow.
Nona then walked along by one side of Captain Castaigne’s chair, with Lieutenant Hume on the other, while old François pushed nobly in the rear.
The French officer made no effort to hide his annoyance at Barbara’s frankness. He was still weak and sometimes a little querulous after his long illness.
“Miss Meade does not understand, she does not appreciate Miss Paybodé,” he began. “Even my mother, although she is on her knees to my friend because of her great kindness to me, even she cannot see all that Eugenié has been, all that she is——”
This appeared to be a conversation of unfinished sentences, of things better left unsaid, for Captain Castaigne now looked as if he would give a great deal to have kept his last remark to himself.
However, Nona Davis had the exquisite tact of many southern girls and apparently had heard only the first part of her host’s speech.
“Oh, you must not misunderstand Barbara and Eugenia,” she explained. “Most of the time they disagree on every subject. But the truth is they are really tremendously fond of each other. Why, now that Mildred Thornton is in Paris with her brother Dick, I feel quite left out. Barbara used to weep for Eugenia every night after we made our escape with your mother and François through the passage under the chateau. You see when we learned that she was not with Mildred, but had been left behind, naturally we supposed that something dreadful had happened to her. And of course Barbara understood how self-sacrificing Eugenia always is and feared she had given her life for some one else. If you only knew how happy we all were when we finally learned that you were both alive and that Eugenia was caring for you!”
“But how did you hear?” Lieutenant Hume demanded. The little party had now almost reached the garden where the table was spread for their entertainment, so there was but little time for Nona’s story.