"Of course one doesn't want to seem an egoist," she said, "but I can't help knowing that I shall benefit. As a neutral I sha'n't be able to go and nurse at the front, but I shall be useful in Petersburg." "Petrograd," the doctor corrected her, with marked irritation. "I shall never get used to the change," said the masseuse. "When do you think I shall be strong enough to begin my work again?" The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "November, perhaps." "Why, the war will be over by then!" said the masseuse, indignantly. "They're calling for volunteers in England," Miss Savage observed to Sylvia. "I'm sure my two brothers have gone. They've always been mad about soldiering. They're like you, Claudinette." "If only I could be a _vivandière_!" cried the child. She was unable to contain her romantic exultation at the idea, and, snatching the doctor's stethoscope, she marched up and down the ward, pursing her lips to a shrill "Marseillaise." "Children are children," said Madame Benzer, fatly. "It's true," sighed the doctor. "_She's_ quite well again," said the masseuse, enviously. "I love children," Sylvia exclaimed. "Do you?" said Miss Savage. "Wait till you've had to teach them. You'll hate them then!" Claudinette's march was interrupted by the nun on duty, who was horrified at the ward's being used so noisily: though there were no fresh patients, the rule of stillness could not be broken like this. Claudinette having been deprived of her bugle, went and drummed out her martial soul upon a window-pane; the doctor, who felt a little guilty, stroked his beard and passed on. The governess carried out her intention of having her bed moved next to Sylvia; on the first night of the change she whispered across to her in the darkness, which seemed the more intense round their beds because at the far end of the ward a lamp burned before an image of the Virgin, and, inclosed by two screens, the nun on night-duty sat in a dim, golden mist. "Are you awake?" Sylvia answered her in a low voice in order not to disturb the other patients; she could not bring herself to answer in a whisper, because it would have made this conversation seem surreptitious. "Hush! Don't talk so loud. Are you a Catholic?" "I'm nothing," said Sylvia. "Do tell me about your life." "We can talk about that in the morning." "Oh no, one can't talk secrets in the morning. I want to ask you something. Do you think that everybody in Russia will go and fight? You see, Prince Paul isn't a soldier. You remember I told you that Prince George and Prince Paul, the two elder sons of the family, were both very handsome? Well, Prince George is in the army, but Prince Paul isn't. They both made love to me," she added, with a stifled giggle. Sylvia lay silent. "Are you shocked?" "Neither shocked nor surprised," said Sylvia, coldly. "The nobility of Russia seem to think of nothing else but making love."