"Probably. Do you propose to pay him too?"
The dryly sarcastic voice, the practical question brought Vardri down from the clouds to the hard facts of life. Illnesses and doctors were expensive things. He had no money, and Emile very little.
"I'll get a Soeur de Charité from one of the convents. She'll come for nothing. Nursing is their work. I was—I mean I'm a Catholic. She's a Catholic, too, isn't she?"
"No, she hates them. She was educated in a convent, where as far as I can gather from her own account she acquired more learning than piety. Under the present circumstances I can only suggest the horse-doctor."
"What's the use of—?"
"I believe he began by doctoring human beings, but like the rest of us out here, he is a little under a cloud. He prefers animals now. They don't tell tales. Human beings do. Besides, he's English, or rather, Irish. Better go and tell him to come up. You know his rooms. Tell him it's infectious, and he can bring up a few cigarettes for me if he feels generous. Don't trouble about your Soeur de Charité. I'll see that the woman here makes herself useful."
Vardri flung himself out of the room and down the rickety stairs at breakneck speed, thankful beyond measure for the relief of action.
Emile subsided into a chair and smoked furiously and meditated upon the untoward situation. Being of a practical turn of mind he began to make calculations. Vardri had told him briefly of how Arithelli had failed in the trick-riding, fallen off her horse, and been hissed out of the ring. The loss of popularity might mean the end of her career. In any case he could see she was desperately ill, and there was small chance of her being about under three weeks, and even then she would not be able to work at once. Meanwhile they had exactly two pounds a week to live upon.
Truly women added to the complications of life! He might borrow money, but that was a thing to be resorted to only in the last extremity. Most of the members of his Circle were as poor as himself or poorer. They were all bound together by the tie of brotherhood, and no one would have grudged or refused a loan, but Emile scrupled to borrow from those who were in greater privation than himself.
Sobrenski was fairly well off, but he lived like an ascetic and gave everything to the Cause; besides, Sobrenski was out of the question. To appeal to him on Arithelli's behalf would only be to give him a chance for refusal and a jeer at female conspirators.