"There can be no pleasure in nursing," reiterated he. "It might be very
pleasant to be nursed--by any one who is beautiful--if one did not need
the nursing!"
Cornelia was becoming so accustomed to Bressant's undisguised manners
that she forgot to be disturbed by this guileless compliment. Many hours
afterward, when she was alone in her chamber, the words recurred to her,
devoid of the version his manner had given them, and then they brought
the blood gently to her cheeks.
"You're very foolish," said she, as she poured out some tea, and cut up
a mutton-chop into mouthfuls. "Now, you have to drink this tea, though
you wouldn't the last time I poured you out a cup; and I'll give you
your chop. Open your mouth."
So the athlete of the day before was obliged to submit to having his
tea-cup carried to his lips and tipped for him by a woman, and the chop
administered bit by bit on a fork. It was very degrading; but once in a
while Cornelia accidentally touched him, or her face, lit up by interest
in her occupation, came so near his own that he felt warm and thrilled,
and went near to admit it was worth all the broken bones in the world,
and the sacrifice of pride accompanying them.
Ere breakfast was over, Professor Valeyon entered with his slippers, his
pipe, and a remarkably benevolent expression for one of such impending
eyebrows.
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