Just as Klemm was withdrawing, Adolph called to him.
“Do I understand that you are to act as assistant surgeon or nurse in this building?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think I shall recover, for I have felt no dressing like this since I was shot; and probably in a few weeks we may have a frolic together, for I perceived as they brought me hither that the place is not wholly destitute of females.”
Considerable familiarity grew up between the wounded man and his nurse. The exceeding delicacy of the attentions of Klemm, his soothing care, his skillful application of all the prescriptions of the surgeon, created in Adolph a spirit of gratitude which then found expression in words, but which he hoped would have other exponents at a future time.
“I see you wear a token,” said Klemm, as he took hold of the medal which had been placed round the neck of the soldier. “I should think that one who wore this would not fail in his daily devotions. Or is this a love token?”
“Well, rather more of love than religion, I imagine.”
“Oh, then your heart has suffered as much as your body?”
“Why that might be the token of another’s love for me, rather than of mine for her.”
“That is true, indeed; the medal itself might have been bestowed as a token of love for you; but surely, if worn by you, it was worn as a token of love for another.”