It was dark, however, nearly eight o’clock, before he was able to redeem his promise. Notwithstanding his great distress he was happy; his regiment had been transferred from the first to the second line and assigned the task of protecting the quartier, so that, bivouacking with his company in the Place du Carrousel, he hoped to get a chance to run in each evening to see how the wounded man was getting on. And he did not return alone; as luck would have it he had fallen in with the former surgeon of the 106th and had brought him along with him, having been unable to find another doctor, consoling himself with the reflection that the terrible, big man with the lion’s mane was not such a bad sort of fellow after all.
When Bouroche, who knew nothing of the patient he was summoned with such insistence to attend and grumbled at having to climb so many stairs, learned that it was a Communist he had on his hands he commenced to storm.
“God’s thunder, what do you take me for? Do you suppose I’m going to waste my time on those thieving, murdering, house-burning scoundrels? As for this particular bandit, his case is clear, and I’ll take it upon me to see he is cured; yes, with a bullet in his head!”
But his anger subsided suddenly at sight of Henriette’s pale face and her golden hair streaming in disorder over her black dress.
“He is my brother, doctor, and he was with you at Sedan.”
He made no reply, but uncovered the injuries and examined them in silence; then, taking some phials from his pocket, he made a fresh dressing, explaining to the young woman how it was done. When he had finished he turned suddenly to the patient and asked in his loud, rough voice:
“Why did you take sides with those ruffians? What could cause you to be guilty of such an abomination?”
Maurice, with a feverish luster in his eyes, had been watching him since he entered the room, but no word had escaped his lips. He answered in a voice that was almost fierce, so eager was it:
“Because there is too much suffering in the world, too much wickedness, too much infamy!”
Bouroche’s shrug of the shoulders seemed to indicate that he thought a young man was likely to make his mark who carried such ideas about in his head. He appeared to be about to say something further, but changed his mind and bowed himself out, simply adding: