Dr. Cartier used his cane to pin down a leaf.
"We have too many cases ... compulsory cases ... just flooded."
"Jean has mentioned the problem..."
"More than that," exclaimed the doctor, beginning to walk away, "more
than that ... I could use ten nurses like Jean ... we lack equipment.
So, so you came back to France to help! My best to Mme. Ronde, and
remind her of our dinner engagement tomorrow night. She works with my
wife ... more problems. It's a time of problems, as you know."
"Be careful." He stopped walking to emphasize his warning. "There are
many who want to talk, who make trouble." He smiled a smile at himself,
a sad smile, and turned away.
Orville kissed Jean, encircling her in his arms. Remember her perfume,
something said. Remember!
"Darling," she said.
"Do you like Dr. Cartier?"
"Yes ... I assume he is very capable?"
"Yes ... he's our Albert Schweitzer."
At one side of the garden they found a rusty wrought iron bench beside a
hedge, half-dried daisies around them, the flowers shredded by the
rains, a puddle holding a single maple leaf, skiff-like, near their
feet.
"How was your day?"
"Many wounded youngsters. We have to put them in the hallways ... all
kinds of cases ... Have the Rondes returned?"
"They came this morning; we had lunch together ... I've been writing a
letter ... as I came here Aunt Therese stopped me on the stair, saying
Lena is ... is with the Maquis."
"She confided that to me ... others know."
"It seems that Therese's worried."
"I guess she is."