He drew a deep sigh of content, and lying down on a red plush
sofa rested for a little while. It was luck, most wonderful luck, that
he had come into Chastel, and had found Julie and her servants, and it
was luck, most marvelous luck, that this well-equipped hotel was here
waiting for them.
He rose and looped back the heavy lace curtains from the windows which
looked over the river. But the snow was falling so fast that he could
not see far into the dense, white cataract. The stream was completely
hidden, and so, of course, was the hospital camp beyond. Yet through all
the driving storm came a faint moan, a light pulsing of the air, which
he knew to be the far throb of the great guns.
He turned impatiently away. Why couldn't they stop at such a time? As
for himself, he would think of Julie, and a very handsome, tanned young
man looking into the glass over the dresser smiled, although it was not
at his own reflection. Then he bathed his face and hands, straightened
out his hair with the small pocket comb and brush that he, like most
other young officers, carried, and felt as if he had been made over.
He hung up his hat and heavy overcoat, and, resuming his place on the
sofa, waited until Julie should announce her readiness. But she took
more than a half-hour. He had not expected anything else.
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