When it was over, and we finally laid him back on his pillow, the tears were rolling down his cheeks and he squeezed my hand in his big black paw and then gently drew it to his lips.
How many wounded were there? I did not count. All I remember was that I promised to come the next day and write letters to wives, mothers and sweethearts of at least a dozen men and boys.
It was late when the last basin was emptied and Dr. Masbrennier untied his apron.
As we were washing up, I asked if he would be good enough to guide me out of the hospital and tell me where there was a respectable restaurant to which a woman might go alone.
"I have neither hat, coat, nor gloves. They're coming in the carts."
"That's so; perhaps you haven't had anything since lunch and I've been making you work on an empty stomach!"
"Worse than that!" I laughed.
"What?"
"Nothing since breakfast at Jouy-le-Chatel."
"Good God, woman!" And taking me by the arm, he hurried me down the hall.