“He is dead?” he said, stupefied, looking at Kate.
“No!” she said. “It is only loss of blood.”
The officers lifted Ramón and laid him on the terrace. Then quickly they got off his blouse. The wound was bleeding thickly in the back.
“We’ve got to stop this wound,” said the lieutenant. “Where is Pablo?”
Instantly there was a cry for Pablo.
Kate ran into a bedroom for water, and she switched an old linen sheet from the bed. Pablo was a young doctor among the soldiers. Kate gave him the bowl of water, and the towel, and was tearing the sheet into bands. Ramón lay naked on the floor, all streaked with blood. And the light was going.
“Bring light!” said the young doctor.
With swift hands he washed the wound, peering with his nose almost touching it.
“It is not much!” he said.
Kate had prepared bandages and a pad. She crouched to hand them to the young man. The woman-servant set a lamp with a white shade on the floor by the doctor. He lifted it, peering again at the wound.