Part 47 (1/2)
”Have you any news of what is going on?”
”We heard firing yesterday,” the woman said, ”and today we can hear a constant booming, from the direction of Orleans.”
Ralph listened, but the bandage prevented his hearing anything.
”You are very kind,” he said, ”but you can hardly think how I want to be off. However, I fear that I am here for a week, at the very least. Just think what I am missing.”
”It seems to me,” the woman said, ”you are missing a great many chances of being killed; which I should consider to be a very fortunate miss, indeed. I should not like Jacques to have that gash on the head; but I would a great deal rather that he was lying here wounded, just as you are, than to know that he was in the middle of all that fighting at Orleans.
”Be patient, my friend. We will do our best for you. If you have no fever, tomorrow, Jacques will try and buy some meat and some wine for you, at one of the villages; and then you will soon get quite strong.”
When Ralph had eaten his breakfast, he again laid down; and his kind hostess left him, as her husband was obliged to be out and at work, and it was necessary that she should be at home, to answer any straggling troops of the enemy who might pa.s.s.
”I wish I had Tim with me,” Ralph said, to himself. ”Tim would amuse me, and make me laugh. It would be desperately cold for him.
I am all right, under my blanket and this warm coat. Well, I suppose I must try to sleep as many hours away as I can.”
Chapter 20: Crossing The Lines.
Ralph was destined to a longer stay upon his hay bed in the loft than he had antic.i.p.ated. The next day, instead of being better he was a good deal worse. Inflammation had again set in, and he was feverish and incoherent in his talk. He was conscious of this, himself, by seeing the dismay in the face of the nurse, when he had been rambling on to her for some time, in English.
At last, with an effort, he commanded his attention, and said to her:
”How far is it from here to Orleans?”
”Seventeen miles,” she said.
”Look here,” he said, ”you are very kind, and I know that you do not want to be paid for your kindness; but I am well off, and I know you have lost your horse and cow, and so you must let me pay you for what you do for me.
”I am afraid I am going to have fever. I want your husband to go into Orleans. The Prussians went in yesterday, you say; and so your husband will not have to cross any outposts to get there. There is an English ambulance there. I will write a line in pencil; and I am sure they will give him some fever medicine, and anything else I may require. Please feel in the breast pocket of my coat; you will find a pocket book, with a pencil in it.”
The woman did as he told her; and Ralph, with a great effort, wrote:
”I am an Englishman, though a captain in the French service. I am wounded with a saber, in the head; and am sheltered in a loft.
Inflammation has set in and, I fear, fever. I am obliged, indeed, to make a great effort to master it sufficiently to write this.
Please send some fever medicine, by the bearer, and some arrowroot.
A lemon or two would be a great blessing.
”Ralph Barclay.”
He then tore out the leaf, folded, and directed it to the head of the English ambulance, Orleans.
”How is he to know the English ambulance?”
”It has a red cross on a white ground, as all the others have; and an English flag--that is, a flag with red and white stripes going from corner to corner, and crossing each other in the middle. But anyone will tell him.”
”I am sure he will set out at once,” the woman said, and left the loft.
In ten minutes she returned.