Well, then we met upon the promenade. She ran toward me, kissed me--oh so glad. I told her of the battle, of my wound. And for herself it seemed she had been ill, Off duty for a month before she came To Nice for health; she said as much to me. I think she had been ill, yet I could sense, Or seemed to sense a mystery, I don't know, Behind her illness. Yet you understand How it was natural we should be happy To meet again, in Nice, too. For you see The army life develops comradeship. And when we meet the old life rises up And wakes its thrills and memories. It seemed She had been there some days when I arrived And knew the place, and said, "I'll show you Nice." There was a major she was waiting for, As it turned out. He came there in a week, We had some walks together, all the three, And then I lost them. But before he came We did the bright cafés and Monte Carlo, And here my little nurse showed something else Besides the tender hands, the prayerful soul. She had been taking egg-nogs, so she said, But now she took to wine, and drink she could Beyond all men I know. I had to stop Or fall beneath the table, leaving her To order more. And she would sit and weave From right to left hip in a rhythmic way, And cast her eyes obliquely right and left. It was this way: The music set her thrilling, And keeping time this way. She loved to go Where we could see cocotes, adventurers; Where red vitality was feasting, drinking, And dropping gold upon the gaming table. We sunned ourselves within the Jardin Public, And walked the beach between the bathing places Where they dry orange peel to make perfumes. And in that golden sunshine by the sea Caught whiffs of lemon blossoms, and each day I bought her at the stands acacia, Or red anemones--I tell you all-- There was no moment that my thought betrayed Your heart, dear one. She had been good to me. I saw that she was hungry for these things, For rapture, so I gave them--you don't mind, It came to nothing, dearest.