He drew down his bed-clothes, and an involuntary exclamation of concern, of surprise, of regret escaped from the Herr Doktor's lips.
'Yes, you see how it is with me? One of those new-fangled injections at the right moment might have stopped the mischief. On the other hand, it might not.' He shrugged his shoulders, and exclaimed, 'Yes, there's nothing to be done! But I want to know if your opinion coincides with mine as to how much time I have left. That is important, for I have arrangements to make. When I am gone, my daughter will have to find her way to Paris, to her aunt, Mademoiselle de Blignière.'
'To Paris?' The Herr Doktor could not keep the amazement he felt out of his voice.
The old man looked up at him quickly. 'Yes, my dear colleague, to Paris—why not?'
'But—but——' The Herr Doktor reddened, then very quietly, even deprecatingly, he said, 'But, Monsieur le Docteur—the Germans? Will they not in Paris be?'
'No,' said Dr. Rouannès confidently. 'They will be kept out of Paris. I only wish she—aye, and I too—were in Paris now!'
There was a pause, a rather painful pause, between the two men.
'You do not believe what I say about Paris?' said Dr. Rouannès abruptly.
'No, I regret to say that I cannot your opinion share.' The Herr Doktor forced himself to say the words.
'You do not know Joffre.' The old doctor looked up at him reflectively. 'Very few people know Joffre—I do. We were at school together. I saw him not so very long ago. In fact just before I was wounded.' Then he called out, 'Jeanne! Ma petite Jeanne!'