fully, to faint as soon as he was
between the blankets.

If Sara Lee hoped to nurse Henri she was doomed to disappointment. Jean
it was who took over the care of the boy, a Jean who now ate prodigiously,
and whistled occasionally, and slept at night robed in his blanket on the
floor beside Henri's bed, lest that rebellious invalid get up and try to
move about.

On the first night, with the door closed, against Henri's entreaties,
while the little house received its evening complement of men, and with
Henri lying back on his pillows, fresh dressed as to the wounds in his
arm and chest, fed with Sara Lee's daintiest, and resting, Jean found the
boy's eyes resting on the mantel.

"Dear and obstinate friend," said Henri, "do you wish me to be happy?"

"You shall not leave the room or your bed. That is arranged for."

"How?" demanded Henri with interest.

"Because I have hidden away your trousers."

Henri laughed, but he sobered quickly.

"If you wish me to be happy," he said, "take away that American
photograph. But first, please to bring it here."

Jean brought it, holding it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger.
And Henri lay back and studied it.

"It is mademoiselle's fiance," he said.

Jean grunted.

"Look at it, Jean," Henri said in his half-bantering tone, with despair
beneath it; "and then look at me. Or no--remembering me as I was when
I was a man. He is better, eh? It is a good face. But there is a jaw,
a--Do you think he will be kind to her as she requires? She requires
much kindness. Some women--"

He broke off and watched Jean anxiously.

"A half face!" Jean said scornfully. "The pretty view! As for
kindness--" He put the photograph face down on the table. "I knew
once a man in Belgium who married an American. At Antwerp. They were
most unhappy."

Henri smiled.

"You are lying," he said with boyish pleasure in his own astuteness.
"You knew no such couple. You are trying to make me resigned."

But quite a little later, when Jean thought he was asleep, he said:
"I shall never be resigned."

So at last spring had come, and Henri and the great spring drive. The
Germans had not drained the inundation, nor had they broken through to
Calais. And it is not to be known here how much this utter failure had
been due to the information Henri had secured before he was wounded.

One day in his bed Henri received a visit from the King, and was left
lying with a decoration on his breast and a beati