rectly beneath the pistol is his medal on a conspicuous scarlet cushion. A writing table of the old Frankish period. On it are spread surgical instruments, cotton, tape. Near the table is a camp cot, on which Burris is sitting. Near by is a chair with a wash bowl and towel. It is early morning of the day following the time of the preceding act. Cocks are crowing in the courtyard, and farther off also. Dr. Dustin is busy with Burris.
Dr. Dustin is an old man, rather old fashioned and homely in his speech and manner. He has just completed a bandage on Burris, and is winding up his tape.
Doctor.—No need to hang you head, Mr. Burris, you have no occasion for that. It might have been much worse, and with you worst of all. ’Sdeath, what a fall! I see you now, how you slid from the coach box and took your leave into the dark. That was a veritable saltus mortalis. Upon my soul, but I’d hate to drive with you again in a storm like that and behind such spirited colts.
Burris (Depressed).—The swiftest we have. We needed to be swift.
Doctor.—I saw you by a lightning flash, as you executed a sort of parabola, and I commended you to God. With him, says I to myself, I shall have no more business. He, says I, belongs to the minister and the undertaker. For a minute I thought to jump off the cab; but then, that would be suicidal, and, says I, it would be more Christian to allow myself to be killed. Just as I was breaking out all over with goose flesh, we struck into the gate. In the yard the colts halted of their own accord, and became as tractable as lambs. Some horses, those! They could carry one to eternity without any trouble. The steward at once perceived that his master was missing. Steward, says I, go look for him. You will find him in mortal agony, if indeed you find him at all in one piece. And, ’Sdeath! Here you were already coming to meet him! Alive and sound, by God! The trifling contusion you suffered was not worth a bandage, much less talking about. In a week you will not remember what portion of your body you struck the road with. But of course, for another reason, it is hardly necessary to impress upon you that absolute quiet is essential.
Burris (Heavily).—It is not a case of myself, but, Doctor, you have not told me about . . .
Doctor.—Oh, on the other side of the house. Ah, everything is in fine shape! Finest possible! Or at least as fine as may be
