Désirée went back to Cape Jessamine. On the way she walked for a while beside an old negro woman. “Yass, ’m, yass, ’m! De debbil am rainin’ fire an’ brimstone! En now ef de Lawd’d only send de manna an’ de quails!” “Are you hungry?” asked Désirée. “You look hungry.” “Well, ’m, dar wuz de chillern. I done hab my ration en dey done hab theirs, but de Lawd Jesus knows growin’ chillern need _six_ rations! I couldn’t give ’em six, but I giv ’em mine.—I ben lookin’ at de berries in de patch ober dar, but Lawd! de bloom ain’t much moh’n fallen!” Désirée uncovered the basket and shared with her her loaf of bread. The other took it with glistening eyes and profuse thanks. They parted, and Désirée went on to the cave below the cedars in the ruined garden. The day was hot, hot! and the air was thick, and there was always smell of burned powder, and dull, continual noise. But the cave itself was dark and cool. She had drawn the ivy so that it fell like a curtain across the entrance. She drank a cup of water, ate a piece of bread, then lay down upon her pallet. She lay very straight, her hands clasped upon her breast, her dark eyes fixed upon the veil of ivy. The light came in, cool and green like emerald water. The booming of the cannon grew rhythmic like great waves against a cliff. _Edward! Edward!_ They beat in her brain—_Edward! Edward!_ She knew that he was gone with the others for the musket caps. Day by day soldiers in numbers passed her garden. She had come to know the faces of many and had made friends with them. Sometimes they asked for water. Sometimes the wounded rested here. An officer, mortally wounded, had been laid upon this pallet and had died here, upheld for the last labouring breath in her arms. The colonel commanding the troops in the redan and trenches at this point stopped occasionally in coming or going. He was a chivalrous, grey-mustached hero who paid her compliments three-piled. It was he who told her of the volunteers for dangerous service, but it was a smoke-grimed, tattered private who brought her a line from Edward, pencilled just at starting.... Five days ago. She lay perfectly still, breathing lightly but deeply. Her mind, like a bird, flew now into this landscape, now into that. Cape Jessamine—Cape Jessamine—and the river rolling over what had been home and life. Her room—the river rolling over her room—the balcony with the yellow rose and the silken dresses in the carved wardrobe.... She was in New Orleans—Mardigras—Rex passing—Louis as Rex—flowers down raining. All the masks—the ball.... France—an old house in Southern France with poplars and a still stream.... Her eyelids closed. Green water falling, and the cypresses of Cape Jessamine.... She turned on her side—_Edward! Edward!_