She turned and gazed dreamily at the forest.
"So there is nothing for me to do," she said, "except to remain here and sew for the hospitals." ... She looked out thoughtfully across the fern-grown carrefour: "Therefore I sew all day by the latticed window there—all day long, day after day—and when one is young and when there is nobody—nothing to look at except the curlew flying—nothing to hear except the vanneaux, and the clocks striking the hour——"
Her voice had altered subtly, but she lifted her proud little head and smiled, and her tone grew firm again:
"You see, Monsieur, I am truly becoming a trifle morbid. It is entirely physical; my heart is quite undaunted."
"You heart, Madame, is but a part of the great, undaunted heart of France."
"Yes ... therefore there could be no fear—no doubt of God.... Affairs go well with France, Monsieur?—may I ask without military impropriety?"
"France, as always, faces her destiny, Madame. And her destiny is victory and light."
"Surely ... I knew; only I had heard nothing for so long.... Thank you, Monsieur."
He said quietly: "The Light shall break. We must not doubt it, we English. Nor can you doubt the ultimate end of this vast and hellish Darkness which has been let loose upon the world to assail it. You shall live to see light, Madame—and I also shall see it—perhaps——"
She looked up at the young man, met his[pg 116] eyes, and looked elsewhere, gravely. A slight flush lingered on her cheeks.