h you," she cried. "Oh, sir, I have
suffered from the Germans already! Don't forsake me, if they come back!"
The surgeon was equal to the occasion; he placed the hand of the pretty
Englishwoman on his breast. "Fear nothing, madam," he said, looking
as if he could have annihilated the whole German force with his
own invincible arm. "A Frenchman's heart beats under your hand. A
Frenchman's devotion protects you." Grace's head sank on his shoulder.
Monsieur Surville felt that he had asserted himself; he looked round
invitingly at Mercy. She, too, was an attractive woman. The Frenchman
had another shoulder at _her_ service. Unhappily the room was dark--the
look was lost on Mercy. She was thinking of the helpless men in the
inner chamber, and she quietly recalled the surgeon to a sense of his
professional duties.

"What is to become of the sick and wounded?" she asked.

Monsieur Surville shrugged one shoulder--the shoulder that was free.

"The strongest among them we can take away with us," he said. "The
others must be left here. Fear nothing for yourself, dear lady. There
will be a place for you in the baggage-wagon."

"And for me, too?" Grace pleaded, eagerly.

The surgeon's invincible arm stole round the young lady's waist, and
answered mutely with a squeeze.

"Take her with you," said Mercy. "My place is with the men whom you
leave behind."

Grace listened in amazement. "Think what you risk," she said "if you
stop here."

Mercy pointed to her left shoulder.

"Don't alarm yourself on my account," she answered; "the red cross will
protect me."

Another roll of the drum warned the susceptible surgeon to take his
place as director-general of the ambulance without any further delay. He
conducted Grace to a chair, and placed both her hands on his heart this
time, to reconcile her to the misfortune of his absence. "Wait here till
I return for you," he whispered. "Fear nothing, my charming friend.
Say to yourself, 'Surville is the soul of honor! Surville is devoted to
me!'" He struck his breast; he again forgot the obscurity in the room,
and cast one look of unutterable homage at his charming friend. "A
_bientot!_" he cried, and kissed his hand and disappeared.

As the canvas screen fell over him the sharp report of the rifle-firing
was suddenly and grandly dominated by the roar of cannon. The instant
after a shell exploded in the garden outside, within a few yards of the
window.

Grace sank on her knees with a s