wounds are not bad, since the men have come on foot, but one never can
tell with this heat."

A sister tied a white apron around me and in a second I had washed my
hands and begun. The first shirt I split, my heart leapt to my lips. I
was neither a novice nor a coward, but the sight of human blood flowing
so generously and given so ungrudgingly, gave me a queer feeling in my
throat. A second later that had all passed over and as I worked I
questioned the young fellows as to home and family and finally at what
place they had been wounded. Some did not know, others named unfamiliar
corners, but La Tretoire startled me. Our morning halt! Then the
invaders had crossed the Marne? For these were not wounds from
exploding shell but Mauser bullets and pistol shots!

Meanwhile the sisters brought iron beds and soft mattresses into the
next room, and each boy in turn was put to rest. Fortunately there was
nothing very serious, for we had no doctor and knew not where to find
one. When we reached our last patient he was so limp that we feared he
would faint. Imagine, if you can, what it is to cut away a stout pair
of trooper's boots, and undress an almost helpless man whose clothes are
fairly glued to the skin with blood, dirt and perspiration.

"Hold the ammonia closer to his nose," said Madame Guix, tugging at a
wire that served as boot lace.

"I'm afraid he's exhausted. There he goes--" I had just time to catch
the body as it slid from the chair.

Madame Guix grasped his wrist.