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Chapter 44 The anguish of my knee, continued the corporal, was excessive in itself; and the uneasiness of the cart, with the roughness of the roads, which were terribly cut upmaking bad still worseevery step was death to me: so that with the loss of blood, and the want of care-taking of me, and a fever I felt coming on besides(Poor soul! said my uncle Toby)all together, an please your honour, was more than I could sustain. I was telling my sufferings to a young woman at a peasants house, where our cart, which was the last of the line, had halted; they had helpd me in, and the young woman had taken a cordial out of her pocket and droppd it upon some sugar, and seeing it had cheerd me, she had given it me a second and a third timeSo I was telling her, an please your honour, the anguish I was in, and was saying it was so intolerable to me, that I had much rather lie down upon the bed, turning my face towards one which was in the corner of the roomand die, than go onwhen, upon her attempting to lead me to it, I fainted away in her arms. She was a good soul! as your honour, said the corporal, wiping his eyes, will hear. I thought love had been a joyous thing, quoth my uncle Toby. Tis the most serious thing, an please your honour (sometimes), that is in the world. By the persuasion of the young woman, continued the corporal, the cart with the wounded men set off without me: she had assured them I should expire immediately if I was put into the cart. So when I came to myselfI found myself in a still quiet cottage, with no one but the young woman, and the peasant and his wife. I was laid across the bed in the corner of the room, with my wounded leg upon a chair, and the young woman beside me, holding the corner of her handkerchief dippd in vinegar to my nose with one hand, and rubbing my temples with the other. I took her at first for the daughter of the peasant (for it was no inn)so had offerd her a little purse with eighteen florins, which my poor brother Tom (here Trim wipd his eyes) had sent me as a token, by a recruit, just before he set out for Lisbon I never told your honour that piteous story yethere Trim wiped his eyes a third time. The young woman calld the old man and his wife into the room, to shew them the money, in order to gain me credit for a bed and what little necessaries I should want, till I should be in a condition to be got to the hospital Come then! said she, tying up the little purseIll be your bankerbut as that office alone will not keep me employd, Ill be your nurse too. I thought by her manner of speaking this, as well as by her dress, which I then began to consider more attentivelythat the young woman could not be the daughter of the peasant. She was in black down to her toes, with her hair conceald under a cambric border, laid close to her forehead: she was one of those kind of nuns, an please your honour, of which, your honour knows, there are a good many in Flanders, which they let go looseBy thy description, Trim, said my uncle Toby, I dare say she was a young Beguine, of which there are none to be found any where but in the Spanish Netherlandsexcept at Amsterdamthey differ from nuns in this, that they can quit their cloister if they choose to marry; they visit and take care of the sick by professionI had rather, for my own part, they did it out of good-nature. She often told me, quoth Trim, she did it for the love of ChristI did not like it.I believe, Trim, we are both wrong, said my uncle Tobywell ask Mr. Yorick about it to-night at my brother Shandysso put me in mind; added my uncle Toby. The young Beguine, continued the corporal, had scarce given herself time to tell me she would be my nurse, when she hastily turned about to begin the office of one, and prepare something for meand in a short timethough I thought it a long oneshe came back with flannels, &c. &c. and having fomented my knee soundly for a couple of hours, &c. and made me a thin bason of gruel for my suppershe |
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