“What ails you, madame?”
“Never trouble.”
“I beseech you, tell me.”
The man was quite afire; his face looked bright and eager, and his eyes shone.
“Gorlois has gone to the war.”
The words were jerked out one by one.
“Madame!”
“War—and death.”
“Courage, madame, courage. On my soul, you are not going to say—”
“Brastias, you understand.”