"Sister!" said she, holding up her tiny finger. "I am your only nurse, and I have six other officers on my list. Poor creatures!" she added, while her fine eyes became suffused with tears. "Alas! they are dreadfully wounded, and I experience great horror in being their attendant, but my vows must be fulfilled. 'Tis the work of Heaven, and the poor Sister Antoinette must neither shrink nor repine. But your wound, monsieur; you were struck in the side, but there is no blood."
"But I am bruised to death, Antoinette."
"Mon Dieu! mon ami; so the medical officer said. But here he comes, and I must be gone, for a time at least."
At that moment the door opened, and the assistant-surgeon entered. He made a profound bow to the lady,—imitating a style he had picked up in Castile, and causing the black plumage of his regimental bonnet to describe a circle in the air.
"Well, my dear Mademoiselle Antoinette," said he, taking her hand, "how is our patient this morning?"
"Indeed, monsieur, I know not," replied the girl with confusion, and attempting to withdraw her hand.
"I fear, Antoinette, if the troops are all provided with such nurses, they will be in no hurry to quit the sick list, which it is our interest to keep as empty as possible; but—"
Here mademoiselle broke away from him, and, snatching up a little basket of phials, fled from the apartment.
"Well, Ronald, my man," said the medico, unbuckling his broad-sword and seating himself by the bed; "how do you find yourself this morning?"
"Having ended your flirtation, 'tis time to ask, Dick," replied the invalid pettishly.