He put his arm round the child, and, taking his laced handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the blood from the sore lips. The little creature drooped her swollen face against the silk muslin and lace on his bosom.
Carola set the lantern on a stool and looked round the tent.
“Here is nothing,” she said. “What can we do.” Luc looked up.
“Your convent, Madame. You say they would take in the sick?”
“Yes—that is our only chance to save the child.”
“And to avoid Aix,” added the Marquis quietly. “How far is this convent?”
“Twenty miles, perhaps.”
She came to the other side of the couch and knelt down.
“Give me the child,” she said passionately. “You do not know what you are doing—what it means. For God’s sake——!”
“Hush,” answered Luc gently. “I know very well—hush.”