's arms.
"Oh my god, he''s passed out!" the old woman screamed again.
"His wound''s tore again! Hurry to fetch the doctor, Edith!" Philippe gritted his teeth and shouted, "Damn Dumouriez! The treacherous traitor! He deserves to die a thousand deaths!"
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What happened next, from frantically running to the nearby doctor to watching Margot calmly and swiftly cut open Andre''s shirt and tend to the bandages under the doctor''s guidance, seeing basin after basin of water stained with blood from washing towels being carried out of the room, hearing Aunt Adele''s terrified cries, all seemed like a dream to Edith.
She heard her cousin Philippe describe that Andre had been fighting alongside the troops against the Austrians on the front lines, without any sleep for three days and nights, shot beneath the chest and received a knife wound to his right shoulder. When Dumouriez defected to the Austrians, he had no choice but to bring severely-injured Andre back to Paris in a carriage overnight.
Then she heard the doctor''s heavy voice, telling them that the jolts during the journey had reopened the wounds, infection leaving the patient with a persisting high fever. The condition was not optimististic.
She stood frozen outside the dimly lit bedroom like a wandering soul, until weary Margot came over and patted her on the arm. "Go get some rest, Edith."
Edith sat blankly on the couch outside.
It wasn''t until Margot washed her hands, sat down beside to hold her in arms, that the young girl all at once burst into tears like a frightened child:
"What am I to do, sister?"
She started to sob in Margot''s embrace. Margot didn''t answer, merely gently patted her sister''s back.