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Updated: May 28, 2025
Lifting up his shattered arm, I said: "Are you suffering very much?" And he barely opened his lips to reply: "Well... perhaps a bit." Fever came the following days, and with it a certain discomfort. Nogue could not eat, and when asked if he did not feel rather hungry, he shook his head: "I don't think so."
When the first dressing was made, Nogue looked at his bleeding shoulder, and said: "I suppose you couldn't have managed to leave just a little bit of arm?" After a few days the patient was able to sit up in an arm-chair. His whole being bore witness to a positive resurrection, but his tongue remained cautious. "Well, now, you see, you're getting on capitally." "Hum... might be better."
Well, the arm was broken very high up, the wound looked unhealthy, the fever ran high, and we made up our minds that it was necessary to come to a decision. "My poor Nogue," I said, "we really can't do anything with that arm of yours. Be sensible. Let us take it off." If we had waited for his answer, Nogue would have been dead by now.
There the same decay works towards the intermingling and the reconciliation of ancient symbols and ancient dogmas. Nogue is courageous, but Norman; this gives to courage a special form, which excludes neither reserve, nor prudence, nor moderation of language. On the day when he was wounded, he bore a preliminary operation with perfect calm.
His face expressed great dissatisfaction, but he said neither yes nor no. "Don't be afraid, Nogue. I will guarantee the success of the operation." Then he asked to make his will. When the will had been made, Nogue was laid upon the table and operated upon, without having formulated either consent or refusal.
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