But one evening—no, he was certainly not dreaming—one evening he really saw him there before him, in the same uniform he had worn at Cora’s house, with his two officer’s stripes shining on his blue sleeve. Jean looked at him with his great eyes, raising his head slightly, and he stretched out his wasted arm as if to feel if there were really someone there.
Then, seeing that Jean recognised him, the young man, before he disappeared as usual, took the spahi’s hand and pressed it, saying simply,
“Pardon me.”
Tears, his first tears, sprang to the spahi’s eyes and brought relief.
XX
Jean’s convalescence was rapid.
Once the fever had left him, his youth and strength soon gained the upper hand. But nevertheless he could not forget, poor fellow, and he was very unhappy. At times he fell into moods of wild despair, and nourished almost savage notions of vengeance. But this phase was soon over, and then he would say to himself that he would willingly endure whatever humiliations she might choose to inflict, if he might see her and possess her again, as before.
His new friend, the naval officer, came again from time to time, and sat by his bedside. He spoke to him almost as one would speak to a sick child, although he was scarcely as old as Jean.
“Jean,” he said one day very gently.... “Jean, you know, about that woman—if my telling you this sets your mind at rest—I give you my word of honour that I have never set eyes on her again since that night that you remember. You see, there are many things, my dear Jean, that you don’t know about yet. Some day you will realise; you, too, that one must not take such a small matter so much to heart.... In any case, as far as that woman is concerned, I am quite willing to swear to you never to go near her again.”