The New Magdalen

"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

before the Englishman could say a word more.

"You have nothing to do with the wounded Frenchmen," he croaked, in the

harshest notes of his voice. "The wounded Frenchmen are my business, and

not yours. They are _our_ prisoners, and they are being moved to _our_

ambulance. I am Ingatius Wetzel, chief of the medical staff--and I tell

you this. Hold your tongue." He turned to the sentinel and added in

German, "Draw the curtain again; and if the woman persists, put her back

into this room with your own hand."

Mercy attempted to remonstrate. The Englishman respectfully took her

arm, and drew her out of the sentinel's reach.

"It is useless to resist," he said. "The German discipline never gives

way. There is not the least need to be uneasy about the Frenchmen. The

ambulance under Surgeon Wetzel is admirably administered. I answer for

it, the men will be well treated." He saw the tears in her eyes as he

spoke; his admiration for her rose higher and higher. "Kind as well as

beautiful," he thought. "What a charming creature!"

"Well!" said Ignatius Wetzel, eying Mercy sternly through his

spectacles. "Are you satisfied? And will you hold your tongue?"