le
and two chairs, to say nothing of a huge old walnut clothes-press,
tremendously deep and wide, that looked as if it might hold an army.
A lazy, restful quiet reigned there all day long, broken only by the
deadened sounds that came from the adjacent stables, the faint lowing
of the cattle, the occasional thud of a hoof upon the earthen floor.
The window, which had a southern aspect, let in a flood of cheerful
sunlight; all the view it afforded was a bit of hillside and a wheat
field, edged by a little wood. And this mysterious chamber was so well
hidden from prying eyes that never a one in all the world would have
suspected its existence.

As it was to be her kingdom, Henriette constituted herself lawmaker from
the beginning. The regulation was that no one save she and the doctor
should have access to Jean; this in order to avert suspicion. Silvine,
even, was never to set foot in the room unless by direction. Early each
morning the two women came in and put things to rights, and after that,
all the long day, the door was as impenetrable as if it had been a wall
of stone. And thus it was that Jean found himself suddenly secluded from
the world, after many weeks of tumultuous activity, seeing no face save
that of the gentle woman whose footfall on the floor gave back no sound.
She appeared to him, as he had beheld her for the first time down
yonder in Sedan, like an apparition, with her somewhat large mouth, her
delicate, small features, her hair the hue of ripened grain, hovering
about his bedside and ministering to his wants with an air of infinite
goodness.

The patient's fever was so violent during the first few days that
Henriette scarce ever left him. Doctor Dalichamp dropped in every
morning on his way to the hospital and examined and dressed the wound.
As the ball had passed out, after breaking the tibia, he was surprised
that the case presented no better aspect; he feared there was a splinter
of the bone remaining there that he had not succeeded in finding with
the probe, and that might make resection necessary. He mentioned the
matter to Jean, but the young man could not endure the thought of an
operation that would leave him with one leg shorter than the other and
lame him permanently. No, no! he would rather die than be a cripple for
life. So the good doctor, leaving the wound to develop further symptoms,
confined himself for the present to applying a dressing of lint
saturated with sweet oil and phenic ac