"You noticed how the patients enjoyed it?"
"I suppose it is better than the front."
"Miss Van Campen," I said, "did you ever know a man who tried to disable himself by kicking himself in the scrotum?"
Miss Van Campen ignored the actual question.
She had to ignore it or leave the room.
She was not ready to leave because she had disliked me for a long time and she was now cashing in.
"I have known many men to escape the front through self-inflicted wounds."
"That wasn't the question.
I have seen self-inflicted wounds also.
I asked you if you had ever known a man who had tried to disable himself by kicking himself in the scrotum.
Because that is the nearest sensation to jaundice and it is a sensation that I believe few women have ever experienced.
That was why I asked you if you had ever had the jaundice, Miss Van Campen, because--" Miss Van Campen left the room.
Later Miss Gage came in.
"What did you say to Van Campen?
She was furious."
"We were comparing sensations.
I was going to suggest that she had never experienced childbirth--"
"You're a fool," Gage said. "She's after your scalp."
"She has my scalp," I said. "She's lost me my leave and she might try and get me court-martialled.
She's mean enough."
"She never liked you," Gage said. "What's it about?"
"She says I've drunk myself into jaundice so as not to go back to the front."
"Pooh," said Gage. "I'll swear you've never taken a drink.
Everybody will swear you've never taken a drink."
"She found the bottles."
"I've told you a hundred times to clear out those bottles.
Where are they now?"
"In the armoire."
"Have you a suitcase?"
"No.
Put them in that rucksack."
Miss Gage packed the bottles in the rucksack.
"I'll give them to the porter," she said.
She started for the door. "Just a minute," Miss Van Campen said. "I'll take those bottles." She had the porter with her. "Carry them, please," she said. "I want to show them to the doctor when I make my report."
She went down the hall.
The porter carried the sack.
He knew what was in it.
Nothing happened except that I lost my leave.
23
The night I was to return to the front I sent the porter down to hold a seat for me on the train when it came from Turin.
The train was to leave at midnight.
It was made up at Turin and reached Milan about half-past ten at night and lay in the station until time to leave.
You had to be there when it came in, to get a seat.
The porter took a friend with him, a machine-gunner on leave who worked in a tailor shop, and was sure that between them they could hold a place.
I gave them money for platform tickets and had them take my baggage.
There was a big rucksack and two musettes.
I said good-by at the hospital at about five o'clock and went out.
The porter had my baggage in his lodge and I told him I would be at the station a little before midnight.
His wife called me "Signorino" and cried.
She wiped her eyes and shook hands and then cried again.