“I do not consider it advisable,” he said. His tone was curt.
Chassaigne glanced at the young woman still crouched upon the chair.
“As a professional man of some experience, monsieur,” he said, imperturbably, “I do not agree with you. I feel sure your patient would benefit by it. Let me beg of you!”
The German trembled with sudden anger.
“This is an unwarrantable interference, monsieur! The patient is in my charge. I decline absolutely!” He turned to the girl. “Come, Ottilie!” he added in German.
She ventured a shrinking glance up at him, stirred as if to rise.
Chassaigne raised his hand in a gesture which checked her. His eyes met the German’s in a direct challenge.
“Unreasonable as it sounds, monsieur, I have set my heart upon witnessing your methods. It is a whim of the conqueror—the force of which you, who have served in Belgium, will appreciate.” His right hand slid into the pocket of his tunic. “I must insist!”
“I refuse, then!” The German was livid with rage. He turned and plucked the girl violently from her seat. “Out of my way, monsieur!”