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An inexplicable feeling of indignation with Juliette now pervaded Helene, as though some wrong had been done herself. She felt humiliated for Henri's sake; she was consumed with jealous rage; and her perturbed feelings were so plainly mirrored in her face that Mademoiselle Aurelie asked her: "What is the matter with you? Do you feel ill?"
Stimulants, water, food, things of that sort, were out of the question; words alone could be employed, and somehow the clever Jules had contrived to pick the proper subject. The mention of Stuart, then, had helped to revive his friend; and now mention of Henri's gallantry had made the owner of that name quite indignant.
He was at the head of his men, just passing over the Loire by a wooden bridge, called the bridge of the Green Cross, and having possessed himself of a sword in his passage through the town, was making good use of it, when a dragoon turned suddenly round, and fired a pistol almost in his face: near as the man was to him, in his hurry he missed him, and the bullet merely grazed Henri's cheek, without even raising the skin.
Spruce, indeed, Henri looked, his little moustache lending a certain amount of distinction to his face, his head held well on his shoulders, his cigarette between his lips, and the most jaunty air about him. There was a far-away look, however, in Henri's eyes, for he was thinking of France thinking of her as she was now, and as she had been when he last saw his native country. "Mon Dieu!
It was of a sweet-faced girl, with deep pure eyes, and there came a twitch at the corners of Henri's mouth as he looked at it. "My Iowaka died t'ree year ago," he said. "She too loved the wild thing. But them wolf damn! They drive me out if I can not kill them!" He put fresh fuel into the stove, and prepared for bed. One day the big idea came to Henri.
Daun can only keep his men under arms there, all day; while his scouts gallop far and wide, bringing in this false guess and the other; and at length returning with the eminently false one, misled by some of Henri's baggage-columns, which have to go many routes, That the Prince is on march for Glogau: "Gone northeast; that way went his wagons; these we saw with our eyes." "Northeast?
"The Pale-faces are too bold," he exclaimed, working himself into a passion; "they are in the power of Mahtawa. If they will not give the gun he will take it." He sprang suddenly to his feet as he spoke, and snatched the rifle from Henri's hand.
When he chose, Jean could be a delightful companion; not with Henri's lift of spirits, but quietly interesting. And that evening he was a new Jean to Sara Lee, a man of the world, talking of world affairs. He found her apt and intelligent, and for Sara Lee much that had been clouded cleared up forever that night. Until then she had known only the humanities of the war, or its inhumanities.
The girl started a little and glowed. The manner of his address rather shocked her, for she was unused to the European form of greeting. Henri's deep, purple eyes looked long into her own brown ones as he lingeringly released her hand. "Mademoiselle!" he murmured. "I am charmed." Ruth did not know whether she was altogether charmed or not!
So thought the patient lady, wiser in that than in her perceptions. Renee made a boast of not persuading her guest to stay, avowing that she would not willingly have him go. Praising him equably, she listened to praise of him with animation. She was dumb and statue-like when Count Henri's name was mentioned. Did not this betray liking for one, subjection to the other?
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