The man alone could answer, for the truth might not be known,
save by the knowledge that comes with the end of all.
She looked at the Cure, where he knelt praying, and wondered how much of
this tragedy the anxious priest would lay at his own door.
"It is no tragedy, dear Cure" Valmond said suddenly, as if following her
thoughts.
"My son, it is all tragedy until you have shown me your heart, that I may
send you forth in peace."
He had forgotten Madame Chalice's presence, and she sat very still.
"Even for our dear Lagroin," Valmond continued, "it was no tragedy. He
was fighting for the cause, not for a poor fellow like me. As a soldier
loves to die, he died--in the dream of his youth, sword in hand."
"You loved the cause, my son?" was the troubled question. "You were all
honest?"
Valmond made as if he would rise on his elbow, in excitement, but the
Cure put him gently back. "From a child I loved it, dear Cure," was the
quick reply. "Listen, and I will tell you all my story."
He composed himself, and his face took on a warm light, giving it a look
of happiness almost.
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