Emile says it will heal in a day or
two. But I felt so stupid. . . . Vardri, you don't think I'm going to
be ill, do you? I've never been ill in my life . . . never!"
The boy made some incoherent answer. Her piteous entreaty tore at his
heart. Every fibre in his starved body ached with the desire to give
her the rest and peace she needed above all things.
What could he do without money? His own miserable wages barely served
for necessities. He was only a useless vagabond, an outcast. He
ground his teeth together at the thought of his own impotence.
"Courage, little one. They will cheer you again to-morrow. They are
cruel, these Spaniards, and fickle. You must not care."
It did not seem strange to either of them that he should be holding her
in his arms. After last night everything had changed. Love, Youth,
and Nature were hard at work weaving the bonds that drew them together.
The fact that she suffered his caresses had given him the right of
manhood to protect her, to be her champion, to fight her battles. If
he could do nothing else for her, at least he could fight.
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