into a bedroom for water, and she switched an old linen sheet from the bed. Pablo was a young doctor among the soldiers. Kate gave him the bowl of water, and the towel, and was tearing the sheet into bands. Ramón lay naked on the floor, all streaked with blood. And the light was going.
“Bring light!” said the young doctor.
With swift hands he washed the wound, peering with his nose almost touching it.
“It is not much!” he said.
Kate had prepared bandages and a pad. She crouched to hand them to the young man. The woman-servant set a lamp with a white shade on the floor by the doctor. He lifted it, peering again at the wound.
“No!” he said. “It is not much.”
Then glancing up at the soldiers who stood motionless, peering