another
question.

"Has the body been examined by a medical man?" he asked.

Mercy ungraciously limited her reply to the one necessary word "Yes."

The present surgeon was not a man to be daunted by a lady's disapproval
of him. He went on with his questions.

"Who has examined the body?" he inquired next.

Mercy answered, "The doctor attached to the French ambulance."

The German grunted in contemptuous disapproval of all Frenchmen, and
all French institutions. The Englishman seized his first opportunity of
addressing himself to Mercy once more.

"Is the lady a countrywoman of ours?" he asked, gently.

Mercy considered before she answered him. With the object she had in
view, there might be serious reasons for speaking with extreme caution
when she spoke of Grace.

"I believe so," she said. "We met here by accident. I know nothing of
her."

"Not even her name?" inquired the German surgeon.

Mercy's resolution was hardly equal yet to giving her own name openly as
the name of Grace. She took refuge in flat denial.

"Not even her name," she repeated obstinately.

The old man stared at her more rudely than ever, considered with
himself, and took the candle from the table. He hobbled back to the bed
and examined the figure laid on it in silence. The Englishman continued
the conversation, no longer concealing the interest that he felt in the
beautiful woman who stood before him.

"Pardon me," he said, "you are very young to be alone in war-time in
such a place as this."

The sudden outbreak of a disturbance in the kitchen relieved Mercy from
any immediate necessity for answering him. She heard the voices of the
wounded men raised in feeble remonstrance, and the harsh command of the
foreign officers bidding them be silent. The generous instincts of the
woman instantly prevailed over every personal consideration imposed on
her by the position which she had assumed. Reckless whether she betrayed
herself or not as nurse in the French ambulance, she instantly drew
aside the canvas to enter the kitchen. A German sentinel barred the
way to her, and announced, in his own language, that no strangers were
admitted. The Englishman politely interposing, asked if she had any
special object in wishing to enter the room.

"The poor Frenchmen!" she said, earnestly, her heart upbraiding her for
having forgotten them. "The poor wounded Frenchmen!"

The German surgeon advanced from the bedside, and took the matter up
befo