"Don't be afraid, Nogue. I will guarantee the success of the
operation."
Then he asked to make his will. When the will had been made, Nogue
was laid upon the table and operated upon, without having
formulated either consent or refusal.
When the first dressing was made, Nogue looked at his bleeding
shoulder, and said:
"I suppose you couldn't have managed to leave just a little bit of
arm?"
After a few days the patient was able to sit up in an arm-chair.
His whole being bore witness to a positive resurrection, but his
tongue remained cautious.
"Well, now, you see, you're getting on capitally."
"Hum ... might be better."
Never could he make up his mind to give his whole-hearted
approval, even after the event, to the decision which had saved
his life. When we said to him:
"YOU'RE all right. We've done the business for YOU!" he would not
commit himself.
"We shall see, we shall see."
He got quite well, and we sent him into the interior. Since then,
he has written to us, "business letters," prudent letters which he
signs "a poor mutilated fellow."
XVI
Lapointe and Ropiteau always meet in the dressing ward. Ropiteau
is brought in on a stretcher, and Lapointe arrives on foot,
jauntily, holding up his elbow, which is going on "as well as
possible."
Lying on the table, the dressings removed from his thigh, Ropiteau
waits to be tended, looking at a winter fly walking slowly along
the ceiling, like an old man bowed down with sorrow.
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