ce his
friend, left the room with the air of one crazed by grief.

"I will return soon. _Au revoir_!"

It was dark, however, nearly eight o'clock, before he was able to
redeem his promise. Notwithstanding his great distress he was happy;
his regiment had been transferred from the first to the second line and
assigned the task of protecting the quartier, so that, bivouacking with
his company in the Place du Carrousel, he hoped to get a chance to run
in each evening to see how the wounded man was getting on. And he did
not return alone; as luck would have it he had fallen in with the former
surgeon of the 106th and had brought him along with him, having been
unable to find another doctor, consoling himself with the reflection
that the terrible, big man with the lion's mane was not such a bad sort
of fellow after all.

When Bouroche, who knew nothing of the patient he was summoned with such
insistence to attend and grumbled at having to climb so many stairs,
learned that it was a Communist he had on his hands he commenced to
storm.

"God's thunder, what do you take me for? Do you suppose I'm going to
waste my time on those thieving, murdering, house-burning scoundrels? As
for this particular bandit, his case is clear, and I'll take it upon me
to see he is cured; yes, with a bullet in his head!"

But his anger subsided suddenly at sight of Henriette's pale face and
her golden hair streaming in disorder over her black dress.

"He is my brother, doctor, and he was with you at Sedan."

He made no reply, but uncovered the injuries and examined them in
silence; then, taking some phials from his pocket, he made a fresh
dressing, explaining to the young woman how it was done. When he had
finished he turned suddenly to the patient and asked in his loud, rough
voice:

"Why did you take sides with those ruffians? What could cause you to be
guilty of such an abomination?"

Maurice, with a feverish luster in his eyes, had been watching him since
he entered the room, but no word had escaped his lips. He answered in a
voice that was almost fierce, so eager was it:

"Because there is too much suffering in the world, too much wickedness,
too much infamy!"

Bouroche's shrug of the shoulders seemed to indicate that he thought a
young man was likely to make his mark who carried such ideas about in
his head. He appeared to be about to say something further, but changed
his mind and bowed himself out, simply adding:

"I will com