Joan would have to summon all
her nerve to keep herself from collapsing. At times the need for haste
was such that it was impossible to wait for the anaesthetic to take
effect. The one redeeming feature was the extraordinary heroism of the
men, though occasionally there was nothing for it but to call in the
orderlies to hold some poor fellow down, and to deafen one's ears.
One day, after a successful operation, she was tending a young sergeant.
He was a well-built, handsome man, with skin as white as a woman's. He
watched her with curious indifference in his eyes as she busied herself,
trying to make him comfortable, and did nothing to help her.
"Has Mam'selle ever seen a bull fight?" he asked her.
"No," she answered. "I've seen all the horror and cruelty I want to for
the rest of my life."
"Ah," he said, "you would understand if you had. When one of the horses
goes down gored, his entrails lying out upon the sand, you know what they
do, don't you? They put a rope round him, and drag him, groaning, into
the shambles behind. And once there, kind people like you and Monsieur
le Medecin tend him and wash him, and put his entrails back, and sew him
up again.
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