“That is true! Had Crispin not left me as he did, I would have sent him to study medicine, but, as it is, I put off the affair from time to time, and now, when I most need one, I find myself without a surgeon.”
“I could never have been a surgeon, Justinian,” said Crispin, with a shudder; “cutting up people makes me feel quite ill.”
“You cut up a good many to-day without being much disturbed,” said the Demarch, with a laugh; “but, of course, I know that was in hot blood. However, it is no use longing for the impossible, so it is to be hoped my Melnosians will recover without the aid of medical science.”
“Is your wound hurting you, Maurice?” asked Helena, who, though tender-hearted as a rule, seemed on this occasion to think solely of her lover, despite the fact that so many men had been killed.
“Pooh! not a bit—a mere scratch!”
“You’ve got to thank my amber heart for your safety.”
“Or your golden hair,” he retorted, smiling; “but, in faith, Helena, I fancy my good luck has had most to do with my safety.”
“Don’t undervalue your fighting powers, Maurice,” said the Demarch, who overheard this remark; “your tussle with Alcibiades was no light one.”
“Well, I certainly got the better of him, but his wound was only a trifle, and, had he not tumbled over the parapet, the fight would have lasted much longer. As it was, the poor devil was really trampled to death during the retreat of the enemy. Still, if you like, Helena, we will put it all down to your amber heart.”
“What amber heart are you talking about?” asked Justinian inquiringly.