unlucky little arm bandaged and in
right order."

Hereupon he called for a glass of _eau sucree_, fed her with some
teaspoonfuls of the sweet liquid (Fifine was a frank gourmande; anybody
could win her heart through her palate), promised her more when the
operation should be over, and promptly went to work. Some assistance
being needed, he demanded it of the cook, a robust, strong-armed woman;
but she, the portress, and the nurse instantly fled. I did not like to
touch that small, tortured limb, but thinking there was no alternative,
my hand was already extended to do what was requisite. I was
anticipated; Madame Beck had put out her own hand: hers was steady
while mine trembled.

"Ca vaudra mieux," said the doctor, turning from me to her.

He showed wisdom in his choice. Mine would have been feigned stoicism,
forced fortitude. Hers was neither forced nor feigned.

"Merci, Madame; tres bien, fort bien!" said the operator when he had
finished. "Voila un sang-froid bien opportun, et qui vaut mille elans
de sensibilite deplacee."

He was pleased with her firmness, she with his compliment. It was
likely, too, that his whole general appearance, his voice, mien, and
manner, wrought impressions in his favour. Indeed, when you looked well
at him, and when a lamp was brought in--for it was evening and now
waxing dusk--you saw that, unless Madame Beck had been less than woman,
it could not well be otherwise. This young doctor (he _was_ young) had
no common aspect. His stature looked imposingly tall in that little
chamber, and amidst that group of Dutch-made women; his profile was
clear, fine and expressive: perhaps his eye glanced from face to face
rather too vividly, too quickly, and too often; but it had a most
pleasant character, and so had his mouth; his chin was full, cleft,
Grecian, and perfect. As to his smile, one could not in a hurry make up
one's mind as to the descriptive epithet it merited; there was
something in it that pleased, but something too that brought surging up
into the mind all one's foibles and weak points: all that could lay one
open to a laugh. Yet Fifine liked this doubtful smile, and thought the
owner genial: much as he had hurt her, she held out her hand to bid him
a friendly good-night. He patted the little hand kindly, and then he
and Madame went down-stairs together; she talking in her highest tide
of spirits and volubility, he listening with an air of good-natured
amenity, dashed with that u