“The best thing to do is, to make up one's baggage and join the march,” said she, very steadily, proceeding at the same time to put her plan into execution.
While I gave her all assistance in my power, the doctor entered to inform us that all the wounded who were then not sufficiently restored to return to duty were to be conveyed to Munich, where general military hospitals had been established; and that he himself had received orders to repair thither with his sick detachment, in which my name was enrolled.
“You'll keep your old friend, François, company, Lieutenant Burke; he is able to move at last.”
“François!” said I, in ecstasy; “and will he indeed recover?”
“I have little doubt of it; though certainly he's not likely to practise as maître d'armes again. You 've spoiled his tierce, though not before it cost the army some of the prettiest fellows I ever saw. But as to yourself—”
“As for me, I 'll march with the army. I feel perfectly recovered; my arm—”
“Oh! as for monsieur's arms,” said mademoiselle, “I'll answer for it, they are quite at his Majesty's service.”
“Indeed!” said the doctor, knowingly; “I thought it would come to that. Well, well, Mademoiselle, don't look saucy; let us part good friends for once in our lives.”
“I hate being reconciled to a surgeon,” said she, pettishly.
“Why so, I pray?”