`` In Paris , where he was with fellow-exiles . '' `` He is what he seems , is he ? -- no impostor , or anything of that sort ? One is often deceived , you know . '' `` On my honor , sir , he is a gentleman , and as brave as he is accomplished and excellent . '' `` Will he die ? '' asked Amy , pathetically . `` With care he would recover , I think ; but there is no one to nurse him , so the poor lad must take his chance and trust in heaven for help . '' `` How sad ! I wish we were going his way , so that we might do something for him -- at least give him the society of his friend . '' Helen glanced at Hoffman , feeling that if he were not already engaged by them , he would devote himself to the invalid without any thought of payment . `` Perhaps we are . You want to see the Lake of Geneva , Chillon , and that neighborhood . Why not go now , instead of later ? '' `` Will you , uncle ? That 's capital ! We need say nothing , but go on and help the poor boy , if we can . '' Helen spoke like a matron of forty , and looked as full of maternal kindness as if the Pole were not out of his teens . The courier bowed , the major laughed behind his paper , and Amy gave a sentimental sigh to the memory of the baron , in whom her interest was failing . They only caught a glimpse of the Pole that evening at the Kursaal , but next morning they met , and he was invited to join their party for a little expedition .
The major was in fine spirits , and XXXXX assumed her maternal air toward both invalids , for the sound of that hollow cough always brought a shadow over her face , recalling the brother she had lost .
Amy Chillon Geneva Helen Hoffman Kursaal Paris Pole fellow-exiles impostor