A Flank Movement

Bressant was lying comfortably upon his bed with his eyes closed; no one
would have imagined there had been any outburst or convulsion of passion
in his mental or emotional organism. He breathed easily; there was a
pale tint of red in his cheeks, above his close, brown beard; his
forehead was slightly moist, and his pulse, on which the surgeon laid
his finger with professional instinct, beat quietly and regularly. In
entering upon the world of love, all marks of wounds received upon the
journey seemed to have passed away.

He opened his eyes at the professor's touch, and fixed them upon the old
gentleman in such a serene stare of untroubled complacency as one
sometimes receives from a baby nine months old.

"Well, sir"--the professor, from some subtle delicacy of feeling
respecting the prospective change in their relationship, adopted this
form of address in preference to that more paternal one he had been in
the habit of using since Bressant's accident--"well, sir, how do you
find yourself now?"

"Much better; I shall soon be well now. I feel differently from ever
before--very light and full here," said the young man, indicating the
region of his heart.

"I've seen Sophie," observed Professor Valeyon, after a somewhat long
silence, which Bressant, who had calmly closed his eyes again, showed no
intention of breaking.

"Sophie and I love each other," responded he, meditatively, and rather
to himself than to the father. The latter could not but feel some
surprise at the untroubled confidence the young man's manner displayed.
Before he could put his thought into fitting words, the other spoke
again.