I heard thus much, and I have some recollection of a comrade having kissed my forehead, and there ended my reminiscences of Landshut. Nay, I am wrong; I cherish another and a more glorious one.
It was about four days after this occurrence that the surgeon in charge of the military hospital was obliged to secure by ligature a branch of the femoral artery which had been traversed by the ball through my thigh. The operation was a tedious and difficult one, for round shot, it would seem, have little respect for anatomy, and occasionally displace muscles in a sad fashion. I was very weak after it was over, and orders were left to give a spoonful of Bordeaux and water from time to time during the evening, a direction which I listened to attentively, and never permitted my orderly to neglect. In fact, like a genuine sick man’s fancy, it caught possession of my mind that this wine and water was to save me; and in the momentary rally of excitement it gave, I thought I tasted health once more. In this impression I never awoke from a short doze without a request for my cordial, and half mechanically would make signs to wet my lips as I slept.
It was near sunset, and I was lying with unclosed eyes, not asleep, but in that semi-conscious state that great bodily depression and loss of blood induce. The ward was unusually quiet, the little buzz of voices that generally mingled through the accents of suffering was hushed, and I could hear the surgeon’s well-known voice as he spoke to some persons at the further end of the chamber.
By their stopping from time to time, I could remark that they were inspecting the different
beds, but their voices were low and their steps cautious and noiseless.
“Tiernay—this is Tiernay,” said some one reading my name from the paper over my head. Some low words which I could not catch followed, and then the surgeon replied—
“There is a chance for him yet, though the debility is greatly to be feared.”
I made a sign at once to my mouth, and after a second’s delay the spoon touched my lips, but so awkwardly was it applied, that the fluid ran down my chin; with a sickly impatience I turned away, but a mild low voice, soft as a woman’s, said—
“Allons!—Let me try once more;” and now the spoon met my lips with due dexterity.
“Thanks,” said I faintly, and I opened my eyes.