“Good-by.”
“Au revoir, Little Mother Coralie.”
Then she went out.
Only when the street-door had closed behind her did Captain Belval go to one of the windows. He saw Coralie passing through the trees, looking quite small in the surrounding darkness. He felt a pang at his heart. Would he ever see her again?
“Shall I? Rather!” he exclaimed. “Why, to-morrow perhaps. Am I not the favorite of the gods?”
And, taking his stick, he set off, as he said, with his wooden leg foremost.
That evening, after dining at the nearest restaurant, Captain Belval went to Neuilly. The home run in connection with the hospital was a pleasant villa on the Boulevard Maillot, looking out on the Bois de Boulogne. Discipline was not too strictly enforced. The captain could come in at any hour of the night; and the man easily obtained leave from the matron.
“Is Ya-Bon there?” he asked this lady.
“Yes, he’s playing cards with his sweetheart.”
“He has the right to love and be loved,” he said. “Any letters for me?”