"Just as you will: let's go to the next." He looked down a long row of mattrasses at the bottom of the room; the two last were empty, though soaked in blood. Materne and Kasper laid the old wood-cutter on one, whilst Despois approached another of the wounded, saying: "Nicolas, it's your turn now." They then saw the tall form of Nicolas Cerf raise itself up, with a face deadly pale, and eyes glistening with fear. "Give him a glass of brandy," said the doctor. "No, I would like my pipe better." "Where is your pipe?" "In my waistcoat." "All right; here it is. And the tobacco?" "In my trousers' pocket." "I've got it. Fill his pipe, Despois. He has courage, has this one: that's right! It does one good to see a man with a stout heart. We will have your arm off in double-quick time." "Is there no way of saving it, Doctor Lorquin, for the sake of my poor children? It's their only living." "No, the bone is crushed; it will never be any good to you again. Light the pipe, Despois. Now then, Nicolas, smoke away." The poor fellow began to smoke, without having a great desire for it. "Are you all right?" asked the doctor. "Yes," replied Nicolas, in a stifled voice. "Good. Now then, Despois, attention!--the sponge!" Then, with a large knife, he described a rapid circle through the flesh, while Nicolas ground his teeth with the agony. The blood spurted out. Despois put a bandage tight round. The grinding of the saw was heard for a few seconds, and the arm fell heavily to the ground. "That's what I call an operation well got through with," said Lorquin. Nicolas was not smoking now: his pipe had fallen from his lips. David Schlosser de Walsch, who had held him, let him go. They bandaged the stump, and then Nicolas went without any assistance and laid himself down again on the mattrass. "There's one more despatched. Sponge the table, Despois, and let's get on to another," said the doctor, washing his hands in a large bowl. Every time he said "Let's go to another," all the wounded were struck with fear on account of the groans they heard, and the sharp knives they caught sight of now and then; but what was to be done? Every room in the farm, the barn, the attics, all were filled with the wounded. There was nothing but the large room on the ground-floor left at liberty for the people belonging to the place; so the doctor was obliged to operate under the very eyes of those whose turn must come sooner or later.