Valmond had escaped death, but in her poor confused
way she felt another storm gathering about him. A hundred feelings
possessed her; but one thought was master of them all: when trouble drew
round him, she must be near him, must be strong to help him, protect him,
if need be. Yet a terrible physical weakness was on her. Her limbs
trembled, her head ached, her heart throbbed in a sickening way.
He stirred in his sleep; a smile passed over his face. She wondered
what gave it birth. She knew well it was not for her, that smile. It
belonged to his dream of success--when a thousand banners should flaunt
in the gardens of the Tuileries. Overcome by a sudden rush of emotion,
she fell on her knees at his side, bursting into noiseless sobs, which
shook her from head to foot.
Every nerve in her body responded to the shock of feeling; she was having
her dark hour alone.
At last she staggered to her feet and turned to the open door. The
tents lay silent in the moonshine, but wayward lights flickered in the
sumptuous dusk, and the quiet of the hills hung like a canopy over the
bivouac of the little army.
Pages:
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28