When Nona inquired for Sonya he shook his head disconsolately and then motioned her toward the same room she had formerly entered.
There was now a cot in the room and on this cot lay the Russian woman.
At once Nona forgot herself and her desire to ask questions. She remembered only her profession, yes, and one other thing. She recalled the words that the old French peasant, Fran¸ois, had once spoken to her and to Barbara.
“Have you pity only for wounded soldiers? Do girls and women never care to help one another? This war has made wounds deeper than any bullets can create.”
Immediately Nona had seen that Sonya Valesky was very ill. Now, no matter who she was, or what she had done, she must be restored to health. First and last Nona must put her own emotions aside, for the sake of her mission as a Red Cross nurse.
Yet what was she to do? Her services belonged to the soldiers in the Russian fortress.
As quietly and quickly as possible Nona gave her orders.
She could not be sure, but Sonya’s appearance indicated that she was suffering from the terrible scourge of typhus.
This disease had been one of the most terrible results of the war. Because of a greater lack of sanitation and cleanliness the fever had been more widespread in Servia and in Russia than in any other countries.
Personally Nona had never nursed a case before, yet she had heard the disease discussed and believed she recognized the symptoms.