The American did not understand a word of her Italian, but he saw the smile, and answered it with a good-natured grin.
"You're a funny kid," he said. "I wish I could find out what you are talking about, and where you got ahold of that queer rig and the goat."
They had reached the other gate by now, and they hurried through it and to the convent.
Several of the sisters had returned, and there were doctors and nurses all busy in the long room where, the night before, Lucia had left Roderigo and Sister Francesca.
The American laid the soldier down on one of the beds, and hurried to one of the doctors.
"Saw this youngster dragging this man on a sort of stretcher hitched to a goat," he said. "He's pretty bad. Better look at him."
The doctor nodded. Lucia stood beside her soldier and waited. She was almost afraid of what the doctor would say. He leaned over him and began taking off his muddy uniform, while the American helped. When he had examined the wound, he hurried over to a table and came back with a queer looking instrument. To Lucia it looked like a small bottle attached to a very long needle.
"Don't, don't, you are cruel!" she protested, as he pushed it slowly into the soldier. She put out her hand angrily, but the American pulled her back.
"It's all right," he said soothingly. "It's to make him well."
Lucia shook her head, and the doctor turned to her. He spoke excellent Italian.