"If you can hear me, I will tell you of him, and why I am here."

"Tell me all. I can bear to hear anything that you can endure to tell.
You are his friend. I claim you for mine, too. You came to find me.
Speak."

This was the utterance of a calm self-knowledge. By what she had
endured, the woman knew what she could yet endure.

Without pause Elizabeth now spoke. Without interruption the lady
listened,--listened while this young stranger told the life of the
past months, in which he was concerned,--of the garden where she
worked and he walked,--of her father, the musician,--of their old
home near the barracks, and the new home in the prison,--of the day
when he first told her of his country and his love,--how for him she
had written the letter, repeating oftentimes in the narration the
very words he had used,--of his gestures, his looks;--she was
thoughtful of all.

How strangely intelligent in all her communication! Ah, if it was
eager love that hearkened, it was thoughtful love that spoke!

The story, as she told it, was brief; but the voice never faltered
in telling the tale, and the eyes of Elizabeth, with constant
scrutiny, were upon her listener. She was satisfied, when, having
said all, she paused, and had now no further fear for her own
heart's integrity or of the listener's constancy.

A long silence followed her speech. At length said Mlle. Desperiers,--