“It is very kind of this good doctor. It is extraordinary that he should be willing to do this for a dumb beast,” Paulette argued.
“It will hurt him dreadfully, won’t it?” said Lucie, lifting tearful eyes to the doctor who now came back into the room.
“I shall put him under ether, and he should not suffer so much as he has been doing.”
“Shall you have to keep him long?”
“If he improves I think he can return in a week, perhaps.”
“If he does not improve?”
“One cannot tell. Be assured that I shall not permit him to suffer needlessly, and that I shall do my utmost for him, as I would for any other soldier of France.”
Lucie looked up gratefully. “You are very good, and I trust you. I believe that you can cure him, so please take him.”
“Do not expect the impossible, my child, but what can be done shall be. It is a small service to give a hero such as he is.”
Lucie bent over to take a last look at Pom Pom. He lay very quiet. She went to the door and called Michel who was waiting to hear what the doctor might say: “Michel,” she said, “please go to the house and ask Mlle. Annette to give you the little flag which is pinned up in my room.”