"
And on this affirmation Alcide, tearing his handkerchief,
made lint of one piece, bandages of the other, took some water
from a well dug in the middle of the enclosure, bathed the wound,
and skillfully placed the wet rag on Harry Blount's shoulder.
"I treat you with water," he said. "This liquid is the most efficacious
sedative known for the treatment of wounds, and is the most employed now.
Doctors have taken six thousand years to discover that! Yes, six thousand
years in round numbers!"
"I thank you, M. Jolivet," answered Harry, stretching himself on a bed
of dry leaves, which his companion had arranged for him in the shade
of a birch tree.
"Bah! it's nothing! You would do as much for me."
"I am not quite so sure," said Blount candidly.
"Nonsense, stupid! All English are generous."
"Doubtless; but the French?"
"Well, the French--they are brutes, if you like!
But what redeems them is that they are French. Say nothing
more about that, or rather, say nothing more at all.
Rest is absolutely necessary for you."
But Harry Blount had no wish to be silent. If the wound, in prudence,
required rest, the correspondent of the Daily Telegraph was not a man
to indulge himself.
"M. Jolivet," he asked, "do you think that our last dispatches
have been able to pass the Russian frontier?"
"Why not?" answered Alcide. "By this time you may be sure
that my beloved cousin knows all about the affair at Kolyvan."
"How many copies does your cousin work off of her dispatches?"
asked Blount, for the first time putting his question direct
to his companion.
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