"You have a good heart," said Rose simply.

He bowed his blushing, delighted face, and wheeled Dard to his cottage
hard by with almost more than mortal vigor. How softly, how nobly, that
frolicsome girl could speak! Those sweet words rang in his ears and ran
warm round and round his heart, as he straightened his arms and his back
to the work. When they had gone about a hundred yards, a single snivel
went off in the wheelbarrow. Five minutes after, Dard was at home in
charge of his grandmother, his shoe off, his foot in a wet linen cloth;
and Edouard, his coat tied round the neck, squared his shoulders, and
ran the two short leagues out. He ran them in forty minutes, found the
surgeon at home, told the case, pooh-poohed that worthy's promise to
go to the patient presently, darted into his stable, saddled the horse,
brought him round, saw the surgeon into the saddle, started him, dined
at the restaurateur's, strolled back, and was in time to get a good look
at the chateau of Beaurepaire just as the sun set on it.

Jacintha came into Dard's cottage that evening.

"So you have been at it, my man," cried she cheerfully and rather
roughly, then sat down and rocked herself, with her apron over her head.
She explained this anomalous proceeding to his grandmother privately. "I
thought I would keep his heart up anyway, but you see I was not fit."

Next morning, as Riviere sat writing, he received an unexpected visit
from Jacintha. She came in with her finger to her lips, and said, "You
prowl about Dard's cottage. They are sure to go and see him every day,
and him wounded in their service."

"Oh, you good girl! you dear girl!" cried Edouard.