"'No; leave me alone. I will sleep soon. Men never really care for a woman
when she suffers.' She turned her face to the window.

"'I pity you, then, from the bottom of my heart,' I replied, nettled at
her remark. 'There is not a man the length and breadth of my land who
would not feel for you now as I do, and there is not a woman who would
misunderstand him.'

"She raised her head, and in a softened voice, like a sorrowing child's,
it was so pathetic, said: 'Please forgive me. I had no right to speak so.
I shall be very grateful to you if you can help me; I am so tired.'

"I folded the shawl, arranged the rug over her knees, and took the seat
beside her. She thanked me, laid her cheek upon the impromptu pillow, and
closed her eyes. The train sped on, the carriage swaying as we rounded the
curves, the jolting increasing as we neared the great tunnel. Settling
myself in my seat, I drew my traveling-cap well down so that its shadow
from the overhead light would conceal my eyes, and watched her unobserved.
For half an hour I followed every line in her face, with its delicate
nostrils, finely cut nose, white temples with their blue veins, and the
beautiful hair glistening in the half-shaded light, the long lashes
resting, tired out, upon her cheek. Soon I noticed at irregular intervals
a nervous twitching pass over her face; the brow would knit and relax
wearily, the mouth droop. These indications of extreme exhaustion occurred
constantly, and alarmed me. Unchecked, they would result in an alarming
form of nervous prostration. A sudden lurch dislodged the pillow.

"'Have you slept?' I asked.