ain, perhaps you will be good
enough to help us."

"Yes!" she said eagerly. "Oh, yes! Tell me what to do."

"Water!" he said tersely. "A basin--cloths!"

With a quick nod of understanding, she ran ahead of them through the
door, and hurried on down the hall. She had never been there in Jean's
apartment before, but Madame Mi-mi had not been loath to tell her all
about it--and so it was not strange to her, and there was something to
do now and that seemed to relieve the dull pain that had been torturing
her brain, and she could remember again every little detail that Madame
Mi-mi had described. The sitting-room, the dressing-room, the bedroom,
the dining-room, and from the dining-room into the kitchen--it was a
complete menage, though Jean used it so little, save to sleep there,
and for his _dejeuners_ which Madame Mi-mi prepared. She procured the
basin, filled it, and hurried back with it--going through the rooms
this time instead of the corridor--to where in the bedroom they had
placed Jean upon the bed. And then there were the cloths--a sheet
would serve best for bandages, and that was kept in the linen closet,
where too there were clean towels, Madame Mi-mi had said. She could
think very clearly now, and she could be much more brave because there
was something to do. She flew to the closet, tore a sheet into strips,
gathered up some towels, and returned with them again to the bedroom.

The doctor glanced at her approvingly.

"Thank you, mademoiselle," he said, in a much more kindly tone. "That
will be all for the present."

But if they were more kindly, his words, they were too a sort of
dismissal. She did not know what to do for a moment; and then she went
slowly to the foot of the bed and knelt down--she would be out of their
way there, and ready in an instant if the doctor called again. She
would have given so much to help him in the intimate way this Monsieur
Vinailles was helping, to hold Jean, to touch Jean, but--but they
seemed so occupied, both of them, and--and she must not interfere. She
could only watch, while the agony of suspense crept upon her again;
watch the grey-haired man, in his shirt sleeves now, working so
quickly, so silently--and then suddenly she turned away her head, and
her heart sank with dread. It was so terrible a wound that she had
caught sight of in Jean's side, as the doctor straightened up for an
instant! It--it did not seem that any one could live with--with that.