'Take him to the ambulance!' protested Maurice, in his turn, 'for the Prussians to send him to Germany as soon as he's cured, since all the wounded belong to them! Are you joking with me, uncle? I certainly didn't bring him here to give him back to them.'
Things were getting unpleasant, and Fouchard talked of turning them out of the house, when all at once Henriette's name was mentioned.
'Eh, what—what about Henriette?' asked the young man.
He ended by learning that his sister had been at Remilly since a couple of days, having become so terribly depressed by her bereavement that she now found life at Sedan, where she had lived so happily with her husband, quite unbearable. A chance meeting with Dr. Dalichamp of Raucourt, whom she knew, had induced her to come and stay in a little room at Fouchard's, with a view of giving all her time to the wounded at the neighbouring ambulance. This occupation, she said, would divert her thoughts. She paid for her board, and was the source of many little comforts at the farm, so that the old man looked on her with a kindly eye. Everything was first-rate when he was making money.
'Oh, so my sister's here!' repeated Maurice. 'So that's what Monsieur Delaherche meant by that wave of the arm which I couldn't understand. Well, as she's here, it will all be easy. We shall stay.'
Thereupon, despite his fatigue, he himself resolved to go and fetch her from the ambulance where she had spent the night, and his uncle meantime grew the more angry because he could not take himself off with his cart and his two sheep, to ply his calling as an itinerant butcher through the surrounding villages, until this annoying affair was settled.
When Maurice came back with Henriette, they surprised old Fouchard carefully examining the horse which had carried Jean to the farm and which Prosper had just led into the stable. The animal was no doubt tired out, but it was a sturdy beast, and Fouchard liked the look of it. Thereupon, Maurice told him with a laugh that he might keep it if it pleased him, whilst Henriette drew him aside and explained that Jean would pay for his lodging, and that she herself would take charge of him and nurse him in the little room behind the cowhouse, where certainly no Prussian would go to look for him. The old man remained sullen, hardly believing as yet that he would derive any real profit from the business; still, he ended by climbing into his cart and driving off, leaving Henriette free to do as she pleased.
With the assistance of Silvine and Prosper, Henriette then got the room ready, and had Jean carried to it and laid in a clean, comfortable bed. Opening his eyes, the corporal looked round him, but seemed to see nobody, and merely stammered a few incoherent words. Maurice was now quite overwhelmed by the reaction following on his exhausting march; however, whilst he was finishing a bit of meat and drinking a glass of wine, Dr. Dalichamp came in, as was his custom every morning, prior to visiting the ambulance; and, thereupon, the young fellow, anxious to know what injury Jean had received, found strength enough to follow the doctor and his sister to the bedside.
M. Dalichamp was a short man with a big round head. His hair and fringe of beard were getting grey; his ruddy face, like the faces of the peasants, with whom he mixed, had become hardened by his constant life in the open air, for he was always on the road to alleviate some suffering or other. His keen eyes, obstinate nose, and kindly mouth told what his life had been—the life of a thoroughly worthy, charitable man, inclined, at times, to be rather headstrong. He was not, as a doctor, endowed with genius, but long practice had made him a first-rate healer.
'I'm much afraid that amputation will be necessary,' he muttered, when he had examined Jean, who was still dozing; whereupon Maurice and Henriette were greatly grieved. However, the doctor added, 'Perhaps we may manage to save that leg, but in that case he will need very careful nursing, and it will be a long job. At present he is in such a state of physical and moral prostration that the only thing is to let him sleep. We'll see how he is to-morrow.' Then, having dressed the wound, he interested himself in Maurice, whom he had formerly known as a lad. 'And you, my brave fellow, you would be better in bed than on that chair,' he said.