"For I, though I am far away,
Feel safe and strong,
To trust you thus, dear love—and yet,
The night is long.
I say with sobbing breath the old fond prayer,
Good night! Sweet dreams! God keep you everywhere!"
When she had finished singing there were tears on the soldier's cheeks and he was not ashamed. Pitchouné, who remembered the tune as well, crept up to him and laid his head on his master's hand. Sabron had just time to wipe away the tears when the Duc de Tremont came in.
"Old fellow, do you feel up to seeing Miss Redmond for a few moments?"
* * * * * * *
When she came in he did not know whether he most clearly saw her simple summer dress with the single jewel at her throat, her large hat that framed her face, or the gentle lovely face all sweetness and sympathy. He believed her to be the future Duchesse de Tremont.
"Monsieur de Sabron, we are all so glad you are getting well."
"Thank you, Mademoiselle."
He seemed to look at her from a great distance, from the distance to the end of which he had so wearily been traveling. She was lovelier than he had dreamed, more rarely sweet and adorable.
"Did you recognize the little song, Monsieur?"
"It was good of you to sing it."