So the flower girl sent for a cab; they lifted the wounded man into it, after she had bandaged his head and arm as well as she could; then she gave her address--Rue des Martyrs, near the barrier--and when they arrived there, Paul was taken up to her room, with the assistance of the cabman and the concierge, and placed on her bed. As may be imagined, Bastringuette's domicile was not luxurious. Her apartment consisted of a bedroom and closet, on the fifth floor, under the eaves. She called it the sparrows' entresol. The furniture was very modest: a wooden cot-bed, a cherry commode, six cane-seated chairs,--or rather six chairs that needed to be reseated,--a small table, a mirror, a foot-warmer, and a stove. So much for the bedroom. As to the closet, it contained a row of pegs, on which nothing was ever hung. But the aspect of the bedroom was not unpleasant and did not indicate downright poverty, thanks to the spotless cleanliness that prevailed. The bed was surrounded with calico curtains, always very white; there were also two little curtains of the same material at the window, taking the place of one large one. On the commode, on the little table, and on the window sill, there were almost always flowers, some in pots, some in blue carafes. Flowers were Bastringuette's one luxury, and more than once she had breakfasted on a crust of bread in order to have flowers during the winter, when she did not sell them. After placing Paul on the bed, Bastringuette went to one of her neighbors and asked her to go for a doctor. The tall girl was popular in the house, because she was light-hearted and clever; and they loved to hear her talk, and repeat in her homely language all the flattering speeches made to her by the men who bought flowers of her. When they learned that the flower girl had a wounded man in her room, the neighbors all wanted to help: one went for a doctor, another for a druggist; this one had a remedy of her own preparation, that one an infallible ointment; so that when Paul opened his eyes he found himself surrounded by women of all ages, all talking at once, and all anxious to cure him, offering ointment, herb tea, plasters, and blisters, each with at least three phials in her hand. Luckily for the wounded man, the doctor came and restored peace among the women, who were disputing with one another as to whose remedy should be preferred. The doctor began by throwing all the phials out of the window, then turned his would-be confrères out of the room; and having examined the patient, found that the wound on the head was severe but not dangerous, that he had sprained his arm when he fell, and that what he most needed were rest and good nursing. Paul looked about the room in amazement. When the doctor had gone, Bastringuette said: