We were silent again for a space.

"Davy," he asked, "do you remember what I said when you had that
miniature here?"

"You said a great many things, I believe."

"I told you to consider carefully the masterful features of that lady,
and to thank God you hadn't married her. I vow I never thought she'd
turn up. Upon my oath I never thought I should be such a blind slave
as I have been for the last fortnight. Faith, Monsieur de St. Gre is a
strong man, but he was no more than a puppet in his own house when he
came back here for a day. That lady could govern a province,--no, a
kingdom. But I warrant you there would be no climbing of balconies in
her dominions. I have never been so generalled in my life."

I had no answer for these comments.

"The deuce of it is the way she does it," he continued, plainly bent on
relieving himself. "There's no noise, no fuss; but you must obey, you
don't know why. And yet you may flay me if I don't love her."

"Love her!" I repeated.

"She saved your life," said Nick; "I don't believe any other woman could
have done it. She hadn't any thought of her own. She has been here, in
this room, almost constantly night and day, and she never let you go.
The little French doctor gave you up--not she. She held on. Cursed if I
see why she did it."

"Nor I," I answered.

"Well," he said apologetically, "of course I would have done it, but
you weren't anything to her. Yes, egad, you were something to be
saved,--that was all that was necessary. She had you brought back
here--we are in Monsieur de St. Gre's house, by the way--in a litter,
and she took command as though she had nursed yellow fever cases all her
life. No flurry. I said that you were in love with her once, Davy, when
I saw you looking at the portrait. I take it back. Of course a man could
be very fond of her," he said, "but a king ought to have married her. As
for that poor Vicomte she's tied up to, I reckon I know the reason why
he didn't come to America. An ordinary man would have no chance at all.
God bless her!" he cried, with a sudden burst of feeling, "I would
die for her myself. She got me out of a barrel of trouble with his
Excellency. She cared for my mother, a lonely outcast, and braved death
herself to go to her when she was dying of the fever. God bless her!"

Lindy was standing in the doorway.

"Lan' sakes, Marse Nick, yo' gotter go," she said.

He rose and pressed my fingers. "I'll go," he said, and left me. Lindy