Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - II - V
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“My dear Adalbert,” said the surgeon
quite unceremoniously as they walked up to
the Bavarian’s bed, “I have a strong
suspicion that you have again been making an
ass of yourself.”
The surgeon cleansed and disinfected the
soldier’s wound with experienced hands, and
with extraordinary rapidity and skill he
applied a proper dressing, whilst Adalbert
climbed on to the side altar to take careful
measurements of the Madonna.
“Don’t move, and don’t try to speak,”
said the surgeon as he was leaving the
Bavarian, “for if you do you will bleed to
death.”
* *
“Poor woman!” said the surgeon, with a
softness in his voice which his colleague
would not have thought natural to its
register. “Is it her son?”
“No, it is one of your men who died last
night; but she could not have nursed him
more tenderly had he been her own son.”
Poor Josephine stood beside the dead boy
whose face she had covered with a
handkerchief—to protect him against their evil eyes,
as she explained afterwards. Adalbert
started as he bent over the boy’s delicate
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