len, when it is dark, when it is safe to come for me,
ten hours late!"

He closed his eyes, jerked up his knees, and clasped both dirty hands
over his abdomen. From waist to knees the old blue trousers were soaked
with blood, black blood, stiff and wet. The _brancardiers_ looked at
each other and shook their heads. One shrugged a shoulder. Again the
flashing eyes of the man on the stretcher opened.

"_Sales embusques!_" he shouted again. "How long have you been engaged
in this work of mercy? For twelve months, since the beginning of the
war! And for twelve months, since the beginning of the war, I have stood
in the first line trenches! Think of it--twelve months! And for twelve
months you have come for us--when it was safe! How much younger are you
than I! Ten years, both of you--ten years, fifteen years, or even more!
Ah, _Nom de Dieu_, to have influence! Influence!"

The flaming eyes closed again, and the bearers shuffled off, lighting
cheap cigarettes.

Then the surgeon came, impatiently. Ah, a _grand blesse_, to be hastened
to the rear at once. The surgeon tried to unbutton the soaking trousers,
but the man gave a scream of pain.

"For the sake of God, cut them, _Monsieur le Major_! Cut them! Do not
economize. They are worn out in the service of the country! They are
torn and bloody, they can serve no one after me! Ah, the little
economies, the little, false economies! Cut them, _Monsieur le Major_!"

An assistant, with heavy, blunt scissors, half cut, half tore the
trousers from the man in agony. Clouts of black blood rolled from the
wound, then a stream bright and scarlet, which was stopped by a handful
of white gauze, retained by tightly wrapped bands. The surgeon raised
himself from the task.

"_Mon pauvre vieux_," he murmured tenderly. "Once more?" and into the
supine leg he shot a stream of morphia.

Two ambulance men came in, Americans in khaki, ruddy, well fed,
careless. They lifted the stretcher quickly, skilfully. Marius opened
his angry eyes and fixed them furiously.

"_Sales etrangers!_" he screamed. "What are _you_ here for? To see me,
with my bowels running on the ground? Did you come for me ten hours ago,
when I needed you? My head in mud, my blood warm under me? Ah, not you!
There was danger then--you only come for me when it is safe!"

They shoved him into the ambulance, buckling down the brown canvas
curtains by the light of a lantern. One cranked the motor, then both
clambered to the s