I took him to the Louvre, and he pretended to
look at pictures, but I saw that his thoughts were constantly
with his wife. I forced him to eat, and after luncheon I
induced him to lie down, but he could not sleep. He accepted
willingly my invitation to remain for a few days in my apartment.
I gave him books to read, but after a page or two
he would put the book down and stare miserably into space.
During the evening we played innumerable games of piquet,
and bravely, not to disappoint my efforts, he tried to appear
interested. Finally I gave him a draught, and he sank into
uneasy slumber.
When we went again to the hospital we saw a nursing sister.
She told us that Blanche seemed a little better, and she went
in to ask if she would see her husband. We heard voices in
the room in which she lay, and presently the nurse returned to
say that the patient refused to see anyone. We had told her
that if she refused to see Dirk the nurse was to ask if she
would see me, but this she refused also. Dirk's lips
trembled.
"I dare not insist," said the nurse. "She is too ill.
Perhaps in a day or two she may change her mind.
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