"So she said,"
answered Madame Delicieuse, "and I asked her, 'how brave?' 'Brave?' she
said, 'why, braver than _any soldier_, in tending the small-pox, the
cholera, the fevers, and all those horrible things. Me, I saw his father
once run from a snake; I think _he_ wouldn't fight the small-pox--my
faith!' she said, 'they say that Dr. Mossy does all that and never wears
a scapula!--and does it nine hundred and ninety-nine times in a thousand
for nothing! _Is_ that brave, Madame Delicieuse, or is it not?'--And,
General,--what could I say?"
Madame dropped her palms on either side of her spreading robes and
waited pleadingly for an answer. There was no sound but the drumming of
the General's fingers on his sword-hilt. Madame resumed:
"I said, 'I do not deny that Mossy is a noble gentleman;'--I had to say
that, had I not, General?"
"Certainly, Madame," said the General, "my son is a gentleman, yes."
"'But,' I said, 'he should not make Monsieur, his father, angry.'"
"True," said the General, eagerly.
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