She smiled at him and he could see that she did not believe a word that he said.
"That's nice," she said. "Very nice. Tell me more."
He did tell her more and when he told her about Gabrielle and the way she died, he could see the horror, the dawning belief in her and she shivered. She wept for Gabrielle, finally, and when she was able to stop her weeping, she sat up and bathed her face with a cold wash cloth, uncaring about the drippings that slid down onto her halter and her sleek skin.
"I did not know," she said. "I did not ask. I was told that you were a military prisoner and you must be watched and cared for and when it was time for you to be sent back to your regiment, you would be taken back in good health."
He found that hard to believe. "I am an American. What kind of a militar
