Wolfe carried the hand he held to his lips.  In common with all the officers who had made her acquaintance, Wolfe had come to have a very high opinion of Madame Drucour.

“I thank you, gracious lady, for your condescension in asking.  I trust soon to be restored to such measure of health and strength as I ever enjoy.  At best I am but a cranky creature; but with quarters such as these I should be worse than ungrateful if I did not mend.  I trust my presence here has caused you no inconvenience; for truly I believe that I am in your house, and that I owe to you the comforts I enjoy.”

She gave a strange little smile as she seated herself beside him.

“In truth, Monsieur, I know not what I may call my own today.  This town and fortress are now no longer ours, and we are but here ourselves on sufferance—­prisoners of war—­”

“Nay, nay, not prisoners—­not you, Madame,” answered Wolfe hastily.  “We war not against women—­least of all such noble ladies as yourself!”

She acknowledged this speech by a little motion of the head, and then continued, in a tone at once sorrowful and dignified:  “I cannot separate myself from those amongst whom I have lived for so long.  I acknowledge with gratitude the courtesy I have received from all.  I know that my personal liberty is assured to me.  But my heart will always be where there is need of help by my own countrymen.  If not a prisoner to the English, I am held in other bonds.”

“Ah yes,” answered Wolfe, with an answering sparkle in his eye; “that I understand well.  We are all bound to our country in bonds that cannot be severed.  And yet we are bound to the common cause of humanity, and there we meet on common ground.  We need not remember anything else at such a time, Madame.  We serve in one army there.  Do not our wounded as well as your own bless the sight of your face and the sound of your voice amongst them?”

“And have they not cause to bless the name of that brave officer who, in spite of his own weakness and suffering, would not rest until he had seen in person that all were cared for—­foes as well as friends?  Yes, truly, Monsieur, in one warfare we can stand upon the same side, and fight the same battle against disease and suffering and death.  I would that this were the only kind of warfare that is known in the world!”

“And I too—­sometimes,” replied Wolfe, lying back again on his pillows and looking dreamily out before him.  “There are moments, it is true, when the battle fever works in a man’s blood, and war seems to him then a glorious game.  But it has its terrible and hateful side, as every soldier knows well.  And yet the day seems far away when wars shall be no more.”

“Indeed yes,” answered Madame Drucour, with a little sigh; “we have a sorrowful prospect before us yet.  What was the word which I heard you speak as I entered?  Was it not of that projected march upon Quebec?”

“It was,” answered Wolfe frankly.  “I may not deny, Madame, that the longing of my heart at this moment is to try conclusions with your gallant countrymen beneath the walls of Quebec.”