And now, stout heart, farewell; a word or two of friendly
parting--nothing more.
"'Tite Poulette."
The slender figure at the window turned and came to the bedside.
"I believe I owe my life to you," he said.
She looked down meekly, the color rising in her cheek.
"I must arrange to be moved across the street tomorrow, on a litter."
She did not stir or speak.
"And I must now thank you, sweet nurse, for your care. Sweet nurse!
Sweet nurse!"
She shook her head in protestation.
"Heaven bless you, 'Tite Poulette!"
Her face sank lower.
"God has made you very beautiful, Tite Poulette!"
She stirred not. He reached, and gently took her little hand, and as he
drew her one step nearer, a tear fell from her long lashes. From the
next room, Zalli, with a face of agonized suspense, gazed upon the pair,
undiscovered. The young man lifted the hand to lay it upon his lips,
when, with a mild, firm force, it was drawn away, yet still rested in
his own upon the bedside, like some weak thing snared, that could only
not get free.
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