THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
when you awake I promise you land under the very lid of the eye.”
“And you—have you not slept?”
“Madame, I am a very owl of birds. But I have the hunger of a lynx.”
Then while she took the helm he set before her the food which Jacquard had provided. There were sea-biscuit, boucan, preserved fruits from the store of the San Isidro, and a pannikin of rum-and-water.
It was not until she ate that she discovered how hungry she was; Bras-de-Fer had eaten nothing for eight-and-forty hours. And so like two children they sat and supped hungrily. When the meal was done, Bras-de-Fer arranged the bread-bags and the pillow so that she might sleep in greater comfort, but she would not have it so.
“No, no,” she insisted, “I am well again and strong. If you do not sleep I shall not.” And so resolute was her tone that he forbore to press her further.
But sleep was the furthest from his own eyes. He felt not even the faintest touch of weariness.
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