The captain made an effort to rouse himself from his semi-conscious state, and opened his eyes.  He recognized his friends and greeted them with a faint smile.

“Yes, it is only the leg.  I was not even aware of being hit; I thought I had made a misstep and fallen—­” He spoke with great difficulty.  “Oh!  I am so thirsty!”

Mme. Delaherche, who was standing at the other side of the mattress, looking down compassionately on the young man, hastily left the room.  She returned with a glass and a carafe of water into which a little cognac had been poured, and when the captain had greedily swallowed the contents of the glass, she distributed what remained in the carafe among the occupants of the adjacent beds, who begged with trembling outstretched hands and tearful voices for a drop.  A zouave, for whom there was none left, sobbed like a child in his disappointment.

Delaherche was meantime trying to gain the major’s ear to see if he could not prevail on him to take up the captain’s case out of its regular turn.  Bouroche came into the room just then, with his blood-stained apron and lion’s mane hanging in confusion about his perspiring face, and the men raised their heads as he passed and endeavored to stop him, all clamoring at once for recognition and immediate attention:  “This way, major!  It’s my turn, major!” Faltering words of entreaty went up to him, trembling hands clutched at his garments, but he, wrapped up in the work that lay before him and puffing with his laborious exertions, continued to plan and calculate and listened to none of them.  He communed with himself aloud, counting them over with his finger and classifying them, assigning them their numbers; this one first, then that one, then that other fellow; one, two, three; the jaw, the arm, then the thigh; while the assistant who accompanied him on his round made himself all ears in his effort to memorize his directions.

“Major,” said Delaherche, plucking him by the sleeve, “there is an officer over here, Captain Beaudoin—­”

Bouroche interrupted him.  “What, Beaudoin here!  Ah, the poor devil!” And he crossed over at once to the side of the wounded man.  A single glance, however, must have sufficed to show him that the case was a bad one, for he added in the same breath, without even stooping to examine the injured member:  “Good!  I will have them bring him to me at once, just as soon as I am through with the operation that is now in hand.”

And he went back to the shed, followed by Delaherche, who would not lose sight of him for fear lest he might forget his promise.