They witnessed the death
agonies, dressed the pestilential sores, cleaned up, changed linen,
turned the sufferers over in their beds, went through a sickening and
overwhelming labour to which they were in no wise accustomed. And thus
they emerged from it aching all over, tired to death, with feverish eyes
flaming with the joy of the charity which so excited them.
"And Madame Volmar?" suddenly asked Madame Desagneaux. "I thought we
should find her here."
This was apparently a subject which Madame de Jonquiere did not care to
have discussed; for, as though she were aware of the truth and wished to
bury it in silence, with the indulgence of a woman who compassionates
human wretchedness, she promptly retorted: "Madame Volmar isn't strong,
she must have gone to the hotel to rest. We must let her sleep."
Then she apportioned the beds among the ladies present, allotting two to
each of them; and this done they all finished taking possession of the
place, hastening up and down and backwards and forwards in order to
ascertain where the offices, the linen-room, and the kitchens were
situated.
"And the dispensary?" then asked one of the ladies.
But there was no dispensary. There was no medical staff even. What would
have been the use of any?--since the patients were those whom science had
given up, despairing creatures who had come to beg of God the cure which
powerless men were unable to promise them. Logically enough, all
treatment was suspended during the pilgrimage.
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