They are fighting in a street nearby."
Alice said no more. What had she to do with fighting and bloodshed?
Her suffering was greater than any bullet could inflict. She fell
into a doze from which she was awakened by a loud cry from Babette.
"Oh, Madame, a carriage has just stopped here, and they are bringing
a wounded man into the Hospital. There are two men with him--one
looks like an Englishman or American."
"Go down, Babette, and see if you can find out who they are. I should
be glad if I could be of help to one of my own countrymen."
It seemed a very long time before the maid returned. When she did,
the usually self-confident Babette seemed dazed. She did not speak
until her mistress asked:
"Did you find out anything?"
"Yes, Madame."
"What?"
"They are all Americans, Madame. A young man and his friend; the
older man is the father."
"The companion's?"
"No, the young man's."
"Did you learn their names or where they are from?"
Babette sank upon her knees by the bedside.
"Oh, Madame, I am so happy."
Alice regarded her with astonishment.
"Happy! Happy because a young man has been shot. You must have a
bloodthirsty nature, Babette."
"It isn't the shooting, Madame. It's the name."
"The name? What name? You are nervous, Babette. You must lie down and
rest. I keep you up too late nights reading and writing.
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