“And when I wake to-morrow may I talk to you of love?”
“Yes—when you wake, my captain, you may talk to me of love—when you wake!
“Listen, dear,” she went on in a whisper so low that only he could hear. “I am going to lull you to sleep with a story—a story of myself.” She paused long enough to use the needle and then resumed whispering in his ear:
“Don’t interrupt or try to ask questions, my captain; there isn’t time for that. In three minutes you will be asleep, and I must talk fast. You, no doubt, believe me to be either French or English. I am neither. I am from beyond the Rhine, a true daughter of the Fatherland. When the war came I had an affianced lover in the German army, a young lieutenant, who had been sent to England on a secret mission. There he was arrested, tried, and executed, as a spy, in the Tower of London.
“Yes, the English shot my lover for a spy! Since that my only thoughts have been of revenge. That is why I am here acting as nurse—and why my patients die!
“The English sent my lover out into the Great Unknown—alone. I will send a thousand English to keep him company! To-day, my captain, you said you would gladly die for me, so I am taking you at your word!
“I have just given you a fatal dose of the hypodermic, and when you wake it will be in another world, with my brave Wilhelm, who was named for the great War Lord. When you meet him, tell him that I sent you—and give him my love!
“Ha! ha! Do you hear, my captain? Give him my love; and tell him that each night, Providence permitting, I will send him a new messenger bearing my greetings! That is all. Good-bye, my captain. The end is near. I am going to kiss you now so you may die happy!”
She bent lower over the cot of the dying officer. He had not spoken before during her self-revelation; but now his eyes, filled with horror and loathing, rolled upward to meet hers, and with a final effort he hissed forth the one word—“Fiend!”
Nydia smiled—a grim, mirthless smile.