"You know," he went on, "that Lorrainers have been ardent Catholics for
centuries. In the Church of Bon-Secours there's a virgin which the
people credit with miraculous power. Many soldiers in the worst of the
fighting were sure of victory, because the virgin had promised that
never should Nancy be taken again by any enemy whatever."
It was late when we came back to the hotel, and while I was translating
the Becketts' gratitude into French for the Prefet, the O'Farrells
arrived from another direction. The brother looked pleased to see us;
the sister looked distressed. I fancied that she had been forced or
persuaded to point out the scene of last night's adventure, and was
returning chastened from the visit. To introduce her to the Prefet was
like introducing a dog as it strains at the leash, but Puck performed
the rite, and explained her sling.
"Hurt in the air raid?" the Prefet echoed. "I hope, Mademoiselle, that
you went to a good doctor. That he----"
"The doctor came to her on the spot," replied Puck, in his perfect
French. "It seems you have doctors at Nancy who walk the streets, when
there's a raid, wandering about to pick up jobs, and refusing payment."
The Prefet laughed. "Can it be," he exclaimed, "that Mademoiselle has
been treated by the Wandering Jew? Oh, not the original character, but
an extraordinary fellow who has earned that name in our neighbourhood
since the war."
"Was that what he called himself?" O'Farrell turned to Dierdre.
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