“I will see if there is anyone abandoned in the tent,” he said.
Carola laid her hand on his bridle.
“No,” she cried, with energy. “Return home, Monsieur. You have others to think of—remember, reflect. You must not risk it.”
Luc smiled.
“Am I to watch you go—and then ride away?”
“Ah,” she answered, “what does it matter about me? There is a maison de Dieu at my convent; the nuns would take in the sick.”
“Madame, simply because there may be some danger, I cannot leave you.”
“You have never had the smallpox?”
“No.”
“Then,” she said, in great agitation, “you must not come. Think of Mademoiselle de Séguy.”