He saw the blue kerchief lying amidst the piles of rubble to which the church—and hospital—had been reduced, and his heart sank. He felt something tear away from him and fly away into the air; the image of her, the reluctant nurse with a lion’s heart, whose compassionate, gentle nature affected her sensitive soul with every broken man she tended.
Eugene picked up the kerchief and held it in his dirty, blood-encrusted hands like a precious gem: all that remained of Renée Lemaire, the girl who had saved the lives of others at the cost of her own.
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