"No, I would like my pipe better."
"Where is your pipe?"
"In my waistcoat."
"All right; here it is. And the tobacco?"
"In my trousers' pocket."
"I've got it. Fill his pipe, Despois. He has courage, has this one: that's right! It does one good to see a man with a stout heart. We will have your arm off in double-quick time."
"Is there no way of saving it, Doctor Lorquin, for the sake of my poor children? It's their only living."
"No, the bone is crushed; it will never be any good to you again. Light the pipe, Despois. Now then, Nicolas, smoke away."
The poor fellow began to smoke, without having a great desire for it.
"Are you all right?" asked the doctor.