winced when he was touched. "They have kicked my kidneys loose," he murmured, without
opening his eyes. Lanny ran and got his car, and the Frenchmen held up the traffic while he
turned it around on the bridge. They helped to carry the sufferer and lay him on the back seat.
Then, slowly, Lanny drove to the Hotel de la Ville-de-Paris, where they brought a stretcher
and carried Freddi Robin to a room and laid him on a bed.
Apparently he hadn't wanted to be freed; or perhaps he didn't realize that he was free;
perhaps he didn't recognize his old friend.
He didn't seem to want to talk, or even to look about him. Lanny waited until they were
alone, and then started the kind of mental cure which he had seen his mother practice on the
broken and burned Marcel Detaze. "You're in France, Freddi, and now everything is going to
be all right."
The poor fellow's voice behaved as if it was difficult for him to frame sounds into words. "You
should have sent me poison!" That was all he could think of.
"We're going to take you to a good hospital and have you fixed up in no time." A cheerful
"spiel," practiced for several days.
Freddi held up his trembling claws; they waved in the air, seemingly of their own
independent will. "They broke them with an iron bar," he whispered; "one by one."
"Rahel is coming, Freddi. She will be here in a few hours."
"No, no, no!" They were the loudest sounds he could make. "She must not see me." He kept
that up for some time, as long as his strength lasted. He was not fit to see anybody. He wanted
to go to sleep and not wake up. "Some powders!" he kept whispering.
Lanny saw that the sick man was weakening himself by trying to argue, so he said, all right. He
had already called for a doctor, and when the man came he whispered the story. Here on the
border they knew a great deal about the Nazis, and the doctor needed no details. He gave a
sleeping powder which quieted the patient for a while. The doctor wanted to examine him, but
Lanny said no, he would wait until the patient's wife had arrived to take charge. Lanny didn't
reveal that he had in mind to get an ambulance and take the victim to Paris; he could see that
here was a case that called for a lot of work and he wanted it done by people whom he knew and
trusted. He was sure that Rahel would agree with this.
XII
A moment not soon to be forgotten when the two travelers arrived, and Freddi's wife came
running into the hotel suite, an agony of suspense in her whole aspect; her face, gestures, voice.
"He's here? He's alive? He's ill? Oh, God, where is he?"
"In the next room," replied Lanny. "He's asleep, and we'd better not disturb him."
"How is he?"
"He needs to be gone over by a good surgeon and patched up; but we can have it done. Keep
yourself together, and don't let him see that you're afraid or shocked."
She had to set her eyes upon him right away; she had to steal into the room, and make it real to
herself that after so many long months he was actually here, in France, not Germany. Lanny
warned her: "Be quiet, don't lose your nerve." He went with her, and Jerry on the other
side, for fear she might faint. And she nearly did so; she stood for a long while, breathing hard,
staring at that grayhaired, elderly man, who, a little more than a year ago, had been young,
beautiful and happy. They felt her shuddering, and when she started to sob, they led her out
and softly closed the door.
To Lanny it was like living over something a second time, as happens in a dream. "Listen,
Rahel," he said: "You have to do just what my mother did with Marcel. You have to make him
want to live again. You have to give him hope and courage. You must never let him see the least
trace of fear or suffering on your face. You must be calm and assured, and just keep telling him
that you love him, and that he is going to get well."
"Does he know what you say to him?"
"I think he only half realizes where he is; and perhaps it's better so. Don't force anything on
him. Just whisper love, and tell him he is needed, and must live for your sake and the child's."
The young wife sat there with her whole soul in her eyes. She had always been a serious,
intellectual woman, but having her share of vigor and blooming. Now she was pale and thin; she
had forgotten to eat most of the time; she had dined on grief and supped on fear. It was clear
that she wanted only one thing in the world, to take this adored man and devote her life to
nursing him and restoring him to health. She wouldn't rebel against her fate, as Beauty Budd, the
worldling, had done; she wouldn't have to beat and drive herself to the role of Sister of Mercy. Nor
would she have herself painted in that role, and exhibit herself to smart crowds; no, she
would just go wherever Freddi went, try to find out what Freddi needed and give it to him,
with that consecrated love which the saints feel for the Godhead.
Lanny told her what he had in mind. They would take him in an ambulance, to Paris, quickly