She turned and went pensively down the road to La Thuiliere, while the carriage followed slowly the direction to Vivey.
The doctor, being sent for immediately on Julien’s arrival, pronounced it a simple sprain, and declared that the preliminary treatment had been very skilfully applied, that the patient had now only to keep perfectly still. Two days later came La Guite from Reine, to inquire after M. de Buxieres’s health. She brought a large bunch of lilies which Mademoiselle Vincart had sent to the patient, to console him for not being able to go in the woods, which Julien kept for several days close by his side.
This accident, happening at Maigrefontaine, and providentially attended to by Reine Vincart, the return to the chateau in the vehicle belonging to La Thuiliere, the sending of the lilies, were all a source of great mystification to Manette. She suspected some amorous mystery in all these events, commented somewhat uncharitably on every minor detail, and took care to carry her comments all over the village. Very soon the entire parish, from the most insignificant woodchopper to the Abbe Pernot himself, were made aware that there was something going on between M. de Buxieres and the daughter of old M. Vincart.
In the mean time, Julien, quite unconscious that his love for Reine was providing conversation for all the gossips of the country, was cursing the untoward event that kept him stretched in his invalid-chair. At last, one day, he discovered he could put his foot down and walk a little with the assistance of his cane; a few days after, the doctor gave him permission to go out of doors. His first visit was to La Thuiliere.
He went there in the afternoon and found Reine in the kitchen, seated by the side of her paralytic father, who was asleep. She was reading a newspaper, which she retained in her hand, while rising to receive her visitor. After she had congratulated him on his recovery, and he had expressed his cordial thanks for her timely aid, she showed him the paper.
“You find me in a state of disturbance,” said she, with a slight degree of embarrassment, “it seems that we are going to have war and that our troops have entered Italy. Have you any news of Claudet?”
Julien started. This was the last remark he could have expected. Claudet’s name had not been once mentioned in their interview at Maigrefontaine, and he had nursed the hope that Reine thought no longer about him.
All his mistrust returned in a moment on hearing this name come from the young girl’s lips the moment he entered the house, and seeing the emotion which the news in the paper had caused her.
“He wrote me a few days ago,” replied he.
“Where is he?”
“In Italy, with his battalion, which is a part of the first army corps. His last letter is dated from Alexandria.”
Reine’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she gazed absently at the distant wooded horizon.