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“Her son is dead,” he whispered to the
Doctor; “we found his body up in the wood,
and he was buried there with all the others.
She does not know it yet.”
They passed a long line of silent men with
still white faces and half-closed eyes. They
stopped before a big soldier with a rough
bandage round his head and the blue cloak
of the Saxon thrown over him.
“He has had no more convulsions,” said
the nun, “but he has never ceased to talk
like this since this morning.”
“He has a big hole in his skull from the
splinter of a shell and has Jacksonian
epilepsy,” explained the old Doctor, “it
is a marvel he is still alive. I am sure he
ought to be trepanned, but how can we do
it!”
The man’s voice was still quite strong and
he was talking with vertiginous rapidity.
Dr. Martin bent over the Saxon, listening
attentively to his incoherent flow of words;
he put his hand firmly on the man’s forehead
and said, very slowly and distinctly, some
words in German. The effect of the sound
of his voice was instantaneous. The flow of
words ceased at once and the man lay there
motionless and silent as if listening to a
voice from afar. After a moment he began
talking again, and again he stopped as soon
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