"The wounded Frenchmen are my
business, and not yours. They are _our_ prisoners, and they are
being moved to _our_ ambulance. I am Ingatius Wetzel, chief of
the medical staff--and I tell you this. Hold your tongue." He
turned to the sentinel and added in German, "Draw the curtain
again; and if the woman persists, put her back into this room
with your own hand."
Mercy attempted to remonstrate. The Englishman respectfully took
her arm, and drew her out of the sentinel's reach.
"It is useless to resist," he said. "The German discipline never
gives way. There is not the least need to be uneasy about the
Frenchmen. The ambulance under Surgeon Wetzel is admirably
administered. I answer for it, the men will be well treated." He
saw the tears in her eyes as he spoke; his admiration for her
rose higher and higher. "Kind as well as beautiful, "he thought.
"What a charming creature!"
"Well!" said Ignatius Wetzel, eying Mercy sternly through his
spectacles. "Are you satisfied? And will you hold your tongue?"
She yielded: it was plainly useless to resist. But for the
surgeon's resistance, her devotion to the wounded men might have
stopped her on the downward way that she was going.
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