How did others fare? Ristofalo had, time and again, sailed with the fever, nursed it, slept with it. It passed him by again. Little Mike took it, lay two or three days very still in his mother’s strong arms, and recovered. Madame Ristofalo had had it in “fifty-three.” She became a heroic nurse to many, and saved life after life among the poor.
The trials of those days enriched John Richling in the acquaintanceship and esteem of Sister Jane’s little lisping rector. And, by the way, none of those with whom Dr. Sevier dined on that darkest night of Richling’s life became victims. The rector had never encountered the disease before, but when Sister Jane and the banker, and the banker’s family and friends, and thousands of others, fled, he ran toward it, David-like, swordless and armorless. He and Richling were nearly of equal age. Three times, four times, and again, they met at dying-beds. They became fond of each other.
Another brave nurse was Narcisse. Dr. Sevier, it is true, could not get rid of the conviction for years afterward that one victim would have lived had not Narcisse talked him to death. But in general, where there was some one near to prevent his telling all his discoveries and inventions, he did good service, and accompanied it with very chivalric emotions.
“Yesseh,” he said, with a strutting attitude that somehow retained a sort of modesty, “I ’ad the gweatess success. Hah! a nuss is a nuss those time’. Only some time’ ’e’s not. ’Tis accawding to the povvub,—what is that povvub, now, ag’in?” The proverb did not answer his call, and he waved it away. “Yesseh, eve’ybody wanting me at once—couldn’ supply the deman’.”
Richling listened to him with new pleasure and rising esteem.
“You make me envy you,” he exclaimed, honestly.
“Well, I s’pose you may say so, Mistoo Itchlin, faw I nevva nuss a sing-le one w’at din paid me ten dollahs a night. Of co’se! ‘Consistency, thou awt a jew’l.’ It’s juz as the povvub says, ‘All work an’ no pay keep Jack a small boy.’ An’ yet,” he hurriedly added, remembering his indebtedness to his auditor, “’tis aztonizhin’ ’ow ’tis expensive to live. I haven’ got a picayune of that money pwesently! I’m aztonizh’ myseff!”