“Don’t, don’t, you are cruel!” she protested, as he pushed it slowly into the soldier.  She put out her hand angrily, but the American pulled her back.

“It’s all right,” he said soothingly.  “It’s to make him well.”

Lucia shook her head, and the doctor turned to her.  He spoke excellent Italian.

“It is to save his life, child, and it doesn’t hurt him, I promise you.  Now tell me, where did you find him?”

Lucia explained hurriedly.  The story, as it came from her excited lips, sounded like some wild, distorted dream.  The doctor called to Sister Francesca.

“Is this child telling me the truth?” he asked wonderingly.

“As far as I know,” she said; “and that boy in the third cot blew up the bridge.  I know she went out to find the wounded.”

The doctor did not reply at once.  He was hunting for the soldier’s identification tag.  When he found it, he read it and whistled.

“Captain Riccardi!” he exclaimed.  “By Jove, we can’t let him die.”

It could not be said that the doctor redoubled his efforts, for he was working his best then, but he added perhaps a little more interest to his work.

The American helped him, and Lucia, at a word from Sister Francesca, hurried to her and helped her with what she was doing.  It was not until many hours later that she stopped working, for more wounded were being brought in every few minutes by the other stretcher-bearers, and there was much to do.  But at last there was a lull, and Lucia ran through the long corridor and down to the door.

She opened it a crack and looked out.  Before her, stretched along the banks of the river, were countless Austrian soldiers, staggering and fighting in a wild attempt to run away from the guns in the wall that mowed them down pitilessly.  The officers tried to drive them on, but the men were too terrified, they could not advance under such steady fire.  A little farther on, there was the beginning of a rude bridge.  The enemy had evidently tried to build it during the night, but had been forced to abandon it after the Italians reached their new position.

As Lucia watched, the men seemed to form in some sort of order, and retreat back into the hills.  Their guns stopped suddenly, and only the Italian fire continued.

It was a horrible scene, and in spite of the splendid knowledge that an undisputed victory was theirs, Lucia turned away and closed the door behind her.  She ran up to the big door and out on the road.

There were signs of the battle all about her in the big shell holes in the road, and in the ruins still smoking inside the walls, but there was no such sight as she had just witnessed, and she took a deep breath of the warm fresh air.

CHAPTER XII

A REUNION

She shaded her eyes and looked down the road.