And after a long while there came a day when his face became cooler, and his skin grew wet with sweat; and on that day he partly unclosed his eyes and saw Colonel Arran sitting beside him. Surprised, he attempted to sit up, but not a muscle of his body obeyed him, and he lay there stupid, inert, hollow eyes fixed meaninglessly on his superior, who spoke cautiously. "Berkley, do you know me?" His lips twitched a voiceless affirmative. Colonel Arran said: "You are going to get well, now. . . . Get well quickly, because--the regiment misses you. . . . What is it you desire to say? Make the effort if you wish." Berkley's sunken eyes remained focussed on space; he was trying to consider. Then they turned painfully toward Colonel Arran again. "Ailsa Paige?" he whispered. The other said quietly: "She is at the base hospital near Azalea. I have seen her. She is well. . . . I did not tell her you were ill. She could not have left anyway. . . . Matters are not going well with the army, Berkley." "Whipped?" His lips barely formed the question. Colonel Arran's careworn features flushed. "The army has been withdrawing from the Peninsula. It is the commander-in-chief who has been defeated--not the Army of the Potomac." "Back?" "Yes, certainly we shall go back. This rebellion seems to be taking more time to extinguish than the people and the national authorities supposed it would require. But no man must doubt our ultimate success. I do not doubt it. I never shall. You must not. It will all come right in the end." "Regiment?" whispered Berkley. "The regiment is in better shape, Berkley. Our remounts have arrived; our wounded are under shelter, and comfortable. We need rest, and we're getting it here at Azalea, although they shell us every day. We ought to be in good trim in a couple of weeks. You'll be in the saddle long before that. Your squadron has become very proud of you; all the men in the regiment have inquired about you. Private Burgess spends his time off duty under the oak trees out yonder watching your window like a dog. . . . I--ah--may say to you, Berkley, that you--ah--have become a credit to the regiment. Personally--and as your commanding officer--I wish you to understand that I am gratified by your conduct. I have said so in my official reports." Berkley's sunken eyes had reverted to the man beside him. After a moment his lips moved again in soundless inquiry. Colonel Arran replied: "The Zouaves were very badly cut up; Major Lent was wounded by a sabre cut. He is nearly well now. Colonel Craig and his son were not hurt. The Zouaves are in cantonment about a mile to the rear. Both Colonel Craig and his son have been here to see you--" he hesitated, rose, stood a moment undecided.