There were some moments of silence, while the dark eyes of the dying man
thirstily dwelt on the beauty of the flowers, and his dry, ashen lips
seemed to drink in their perfumes as those athirst drink in water.
"They are beautiful," he said faintly, at length. "They have our youth
in them. How came you by them, dear friend?"
"They are not due to me," answered Cecil hurriedly. "Mme. la
Princess Corona sends them to you. She has sent great gifts to the
hospital--wines, fruits, a profusion of flowers, such as those. Through
her, these miserable chambers will bloom for a while like a garden;
and the best wines of Europe will slake your thirst in lieu of that
miserable tisane."
"It is very kind," murmured Leon Ramon languidly; life was too feeble
in him to leave him vivid pleasures in aught. "But I am ungrateful. La
Cigarette here--she has been so good, so tender, so pitiful. For once I
have almost not missed you!"
Cigarette, thus alluded to, sprang to her feet with her head tossed
back, and all her cynicism back again; a hot color was on her cheeks,
the light had passed from her face, she struck her white teeth together.
She had thought "Bel-a-faire-peur" chained to his regiment in the field
of maneuver, or she would never have come thither to tend his friend.
She had felt happy in her self-sacrifice; she had grown into a gentle,
pensive, merciful mood, singing here by the side of the dying soldier,
and now the first thing she heard was of the charities of Mme.
Pages:
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501