And Josephine's arm upheld tenderly but not weakly the hero she had struck down.

She avoided Rose's eye, her mother's, and even the doctor's: one gasping sob escaped her as she walked with head half averted, and vacant, terror-stricken eyes, and her victim on her sustaining arm.
The doctor selected the tapestried chamber for him as being most airy.
Then he ordered the women out, and with Dard's help undressed the still insensible patient.
Josephine sat down on the stairs in gloomy silence, her eyes on the ground, like one waiting for her deathblow.
Rose, sick at heart, sat silent too at some distance.

At last she said faintly, "Have we done well ?" "I don't know," said Josephine doggedly.

Her eyes never left the ground.
"We could not let him die for want of care." "He will not thank us.

Better for him to die than live.