ovement of the emigrant readjusting his
knapsack, she added, 'Allons! half-past ten! Dr. Nadaud will be here
before we are ready for him!'

From that day Sister Gabrielle avoided sitting by my bedside. She
watched over me just as tenderly as before, but our talks were shorter,
and I never ventured to repeat my question, as you may imagine.
Nevertheless, lying there through the long days, it was impossible not
to go on wondering what had sent this beautiful woman into the rough
groove where I found her.

One day I discovered that Dr. Nadaud came from the same town as
herself, and I fell at once to questioning him about her. All that I
could elicit from him was that her name in the world had been Jeanne
D'Alcourt, and that she came of a good old Norman titled family. I did
not learn much by that. It was not necessary to hear that she was
noble, for she had the stamp of nobility in every line and in every
pose of her body. For a talkative fellow, I thought Nadaud had
remarkably little to say about his former townswoman, and, after gently
sounding him once or twice on the subject, I came to the conclusion
that it was useless to look to him for enlightenment, but I also came
to the conclusion that Sister Gabrielle had a history.

August came. I had been three months in St. Malo Hospital, and now the
time for leaving it had arrived.

It was early morning. A fiacre stood at the gate with my luggage upon
it, and Sister Gabrielle had come to the doorway which led into the
courtyard to see me off.

Early as it was, the sun was already well on his day's journey, and
perhaps it was the strong glare from the white wall that made her shade
her eyes so persistently with her left hand while we were saying
'Good-bye.' As for my own eyes, there was something the matter with
them, too, for the landscape, or so much of it as I could see from the
St. Malo Hospital doorway, had taken on a strange, blurred look since I
saw it from the window ten minutes before.

'Adieu, mon lieutenant, adieu!' cried Sister Gabrielle, in a voice
meant to be very cheery.

'Adieu, ma soeur! May I come to see you and the old place if ever I
find myself in these latitudes again?'

'Yes, yes, that is it; come back and see who is in your little bed
under the window. Take care of the arm!' touching the sling that held
it. 'Dr. Nadaud will expect a letter from you in copper-plate style
before another month is over. Allons! We will say au revoir, then, not
a