Brandon of the Engineers

A cool sea breeze blew through the half-opened lattice, and a ray of

sunshine quivered upon the ocher-colored wall, when Dick awoke from a

refreshing sleep. He felt helplessly weak, and his side, which was

covered by a stiff bandage, hurt him when he moved, but his head was

clear at last and he languidly looked about. The room was spacious, but

rather bare. There was no carpet, but a rug made a blotch of cool green

on the smooth, dark floor. Two or three religious pictures hung upon the

wall and he noted how the soft blue of the virgin's dress harmonized with

the yellow background. An arch at one end was covered by a leather

curtain like those in old Spanish churches, but it had been partly drawn

back to let the air circulate. Outside the hooked-back lattice he saw the

rails of a balcony, and across the narrow patio a purple creeper spread

about a dazzling white wall.

All this was vaguely familiar, because it was some days since Dick had

recovered partial consciousness, though he had been too feeble to notice

his surroundings much or find out where he was. Now he studied the room

with languid interest as he tried to remember what had led to his being

brought there. The scanty furniture was dark and old; and he knew the

wrinkled, brown-faced woman in black who sat by the window with a dark

shawl wound round her head. She had a place in his confused memories; as

had another woman with a curious lifeless face and an unusual dress, who

had once or twice lifted him and done something to his bandages. Still,

it was not of her Dick was thinking. There had been somebody else,

brighter and fresher than either, who sat beside him when he lay in

fevered pain and sometimes stole in and vanished after a pitiful glance.

A bunch of flowers stood upon the table; and their scent mingled with the

faint smell of decay that hung about the room. Lying still, Dick heard

the leather curtain rustle softly in the draught, muffled sounds of

traffic, and the drowsy murmur of the surf. Its rhythmic beat was

soothing and he thought he could smell the sea. By and by he made an

abrupt move that hurt him as a voice floated into the room. It was

singularly clear and sweet, and he thought he knew it, as he seemed to

know the song, but could not catch the words and the singing stopped.

Then light footsteps passed the arch and there was silence again.

"Who's that?" he asked with an energy he had not been capable of until

then.

"La mignonne," said the old woman with a smile that showed her thick,

red lips and firm white teeth.