"Fool!" Barbara said, in a low, fierce voice.
"As you please," he shrugged, and, taking the razor from his valet's hand began to slit the seams of the Colonel's Hessians.
While he got the boots off, Barbara knelt down by the bed and sponged away the dirt from the Colonel's livid face. Judith stood beside her, holding the bowl of warm water. Over Barbara's head, she spoke to Worth: "Will he live?"
"He is very ill, but I believe so. I have sent for a surgeon to come immediately. The worst is this fever. The jolting of the chaise has been very bad for him. I thought at one time I should never get through to Waterloo: the road is choked - wagons lying all over it, baggage spilt and plundered, and horses shot in their traces. There was never anything so disgraceful!"
"The battle?"
"I know no more than you. I met Charles in a common tiltwagon half way through the Forest, being brought to Brussels with a dozen others. Everything is turmoil on the road: I could come by no certain intelligence; but I conjecture that all must be well, or the French must by now have penetrated at least to the Forest."
He moved up to the head of the bed, and while he and his valet stripped the clothes from the Colonel's body, Barbara poured away the tainted water in the bowl and filled it with fresh. She looked so pale that Judith feared she must be going to faint, and begged her to withdraw. She shook her head. "Do not heed me! I shall not fail."
By the time an over-driven surgeon had arrived, the Colonel was lying between clean sheets, restlessly trying to twist from side to side. At times it needed all Worth's strength to prevent him from turning on to his injured left side; occasionally he made an effort to wrench himself up; once he said quite clearly: "The Duke! I've a message to deliver!" But mostly his utterance was indistinct, and interrupted by deep groans.
The surgeon looked grave, and saw nothing for it but to bleed him. Judith could not help saying with a good deal of warmth: "I should have thought he had lost enough blood!"
She was not attended to; the surgeon had been at work among the wounded since the previous morning, and was himself tired and harassed. He took a pint of blood from the Colonel, and it seemed to relieve him a little. He ceased his restless tossing and fell into a kind of coma. The surgeon gave Worth a few directions, and went away, promising to return later in the morning. It was evident that he did not take a very hopeful view of the Colonel's state. He would not permit of the bandages being removed to enable him to inspect the injuries to the thigh and the left side of the body. "Better not disturb him!" he said. "If Hume attended to him, you may depend upon it the wounds have been properly dressed. I will see them later. There is nothing for it now but to keep him quiet and hope for the fever to abate."