"I lived for over a year with Madame de Staemer in a little villa on the
Promenade des Anglaise," she replied. "That was after Madame was
injured."
"She sustained her injuries during the war, I understand?"
"Yes. Poor Madame. The hospital of which she was in charge was bombed
and the shock left her as you see her. I was there, too, but I luckily
escaped without injury."
"What, you were there?"
"Yes. That was where I first met Madame de Staemer. She used to be very
wealthy, you see, and she established this hospital in France at her
own expense, and I was one of her assistants for a time. She lost both
her husband and her fortune in the war, and as if that were not bad
enough, lost the use of her limbs, too."
"Poor woman," I said. "I had no idea her life had been so tragic. She
has wonderful courage."
"Courage!" exclaimed the girl, "if you knew all that I know about her."
Her face grew sweetly animated as she bent toward me excitedly and
confidentially.
"Really, she is simply wonderful. I learned to respect her in those
days as I have never respected any other woman in the world; and when,
after all her splendid work, she, so vital and active, was stricken
down like that, I felt that I simply could not leave her, especially as
she asked me to stay.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75