VI THE HEART OF A WOMAN When at last Nicole had brought Barabant to his room, she was very tired. Goursac, whom she had summoned to help her, knelt by the bed to examine the unconscious form. Every now and then he turned a questioning look upon the girl, as though to penetrate the indifferent attitude she maintained. "Why don't you say something?" Nicole cried at last, her anxiety mastering her prudence. "Is it so serious?" "A mere scratch," he grumbled; "nothing to make such a fuss over. If he hadn't been as weak as a woman--" Nicole, reassured, smiled at his ill-humor, knowing the mood of old. Goursac, furious at such a reception of his sarcasm, turned on her angrily. "You are like all the rest--just as stupid. Because a young fellow gets a scratch and you pilot him home, you call that a romance. You know well enough what that leads to!" "That may be true; why shouldn't I have my romance as well as another?" "You say that to plague me. You know that is not so!" he said impatiently. "Now give me a bandage." Stooping, Nicole seized her petticoat; but finding it stained with traces of the combat, she dropped it, and calling to him to wait, passed through the window and across the gutter, swaying lithely against the roof. In a moment she returned with half of a sheet, which they quickly tore into bandages. "There; with a little rest--a chance to recover some blood--the fever will abate!" Preparing a sling, Goursac jerked his head toward the bed and demanded: "You are not going to watch?" "Certainly I am!" "Then say at once," he cried point-blank, "that you imagine you are in love!" "Goursac, my friend, you are ridiculous with your ideas," Nicole answered impatiently. "You know that the Citoyen Barabant arrived only yesterday. We are good comrades. That's all!" "Yes, yes, yes!" He wrinkled his lips in scornful unbelief, raised his shoulders to his ears, and disappeared, heavily, down the stairs, grumbling ironically, "A man lies to deceive others; a woman lies to deceive herself!" A moment later he called back: "Hé, above there!" Nicole went to the landing. "Is that you, the comrade?" "Yes, old cynic." "If you need me, stamp twice on the floor." "Agreed." "Return now to your--acquaintance." Nicole, laughing, returned to the bedside. She placed her hand on the heated forehead, frowned, smoothed down the covers, arranged the discarded clothes, and, after a moment's reflection, departed over the roof to her room. When she again appeared, she had removed all traces of the battle. She pulled a chair near the bed, loosened her hair, scattering it over her shoulders, and began to comb it out, unraveling the tangle with many grimaces and an oft-wrung "Aïe! aïe!"