And Josephine's arm upheld
tenderly but not weakly the hero she had struck down. She avoided Rose's
eye, her mother's, and even the doctor's: one gasping sob escaped her as
she walked with head half averted, and vacant, terror-stricken eyes, and
her victim on her sustaining arm.
The doctor selected the tapestried chamber for him as being most airy.
Then he ordered the women out, and with Dard's help undressed the still
insensible patient.
Josephine sat down on the stairs in gloomy silence, her eyes on the
ground, like one waiting for her deathblow.
Rose, sick at heart, sat silent too at some distance. At last she said
faintly, "Have we done well?"
"I don't know," said Josephine doggedly. Her eyes never left the ground.
"We could not let him die for want of care."
"He will not thank us. Better for him to die than live. Better for me."
At this instant Dard came running down. "Good news, mesdemoiselles, good
news! the wound runs all along; it is not deep, like mine was. He has
opened his eyes and shut them again. The dear good doctor stopped the
blood in a twinkle.
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