Without questioning him farther, though not comprehending one half of what he meant, I entered the hut; when, to my utter astonishment, I found young Martin Vern stretched upon the straw which had served me during the previous night for a bed, and his uncle standing behind him, with a most anxious and sorrowful countenance, while a surgeon, with a large pair of forceps, was drawing something, which proved to be a bullet, from the wound in his side. The young man bore the operation, which must have been extremely painful, with the utmost fortitude and resolution, shutting his teeth hard, so as to prevent even a groan from escaping. Martin Vern looked at me as I entered somewhat reproachfully; but at that moment the surgeon, holding up the bullet in his forceps, exclaimed, "Here it is, here it is!" And on my asking some questions concerning the poor youth, he proceeded to pour forth upon me a quantity of barbarous terms, to explain the precise course the ball had taken, and the parts external and internal which had been wounded. I cut him short as soon as possible, thinking I perceived through all these technicalities that the surgeon had hopes the youth would get better, and wished to give importance to the cure. "Some better bed," he said, "must be provided for him immediately." And he added that, if we would see for one, he would wait and superintend the movement of the wounded man himself. I immediately turned to see what could be done, and was followed by the merchant himself; who, as soon as we were out of the door, shook his head ruefully at me, saying, "Ah! Monsieur de Cerons, this was not kind of you, when you knew how much I wished to keep that boy from this warlike folly of his." "My good friend," I replied, "You are entirely mistaken in supposing that I had any share in this matter. On my honour, I was not aware who it was that fought so gallantly beside me till I entered the hut this moment. He gave me no intimation of it; and I did not even know that I had an additional man in the field." "I never knew anything of it," cried Moric Endem, who had heard our conversation. "I never knew anything of it till we were just going to march, and then he came up to me, and besought me, for pity's sake, to let him go with us. He had bought himself a casque and a cuirass; and I pushed him in anywhere into the ranks, thinking it a devil of a pity that a fine, high-spirited boy should be balked, and made a mere merchant of; to sit stupifying himself over a tall book, or selling silks and satins by the yard, when he is as proper a youth as ever was seen to take a lance in his hand and meet the enemy."