“Don’t touch it! don’t touch it!” cried the girl, screaming more violently.
“Ma’am, she screams that way for nothing often,” said the boy. “Her arm is no more broke than mine, I’m sure; she’ll move it well enough when she’s not cross.”
“I am afraid,” said Mad. de Fleury, “that her arm is broken.”
“Is it indeed?” said the boy, with a look of terror.
“Oh! don’t touch it—you’ll kill me, you are killing me,” screamed the poor girl, whilst Mad. de Fleury with the greatest care endeavoured to join the bones in their proper place, and resolved to hold the arm till the arrival of the surgeon.
From the feminine appearance of this lady, no stranger would have expected such resolution; but with all the natural sensibility and graceful delicacy of her sex, she had none of that weakness or affectation, which incapacitates from being useful in real distress. In most sudden accidents, and in all domestic misfortunes, female resolution and presence of mind are indispensably requisite: safety, health, and life, often depend upon the fortitude of women. Happy they, who, like Mad. de Fleury, possess strength of mind united with the utmost gentleness of manner and tenderness of disposition!
Soothed by this lady’s sweet voice, the child’s rage subsided; and no longer struggling, the poor little girl sat quietly on her lap, sometimes writhing and moaning with pain.
The surgeon at length arrived: her arm was set: and he said, “that she had probably been saved much future pain by Mad. de Fleury’s presence of mind.”
“Sir,—will it soon be well?” said Maurice to the surgeon.
“Oh, yes, very soon, I dare say,” said the little girl. “To-morrow, perhaps; for now that it is tied up, it does not hurt me to signify—and after all, I do believe, Maurice, it was not you threw me down.”