Her dress and the floor were also stained. I undid the
handkerchief and found an ugly wound in the palm of the hand. I called
the steward, and sent him to my dispensary for some necessaries; then I
asked her how it happened. At the moment I saw the cause--a broken bottle
lying on the floor. "The ship rolled," she said. "The bottle fell from
the shelf upon the marble washstand, and, breaking, from there to the
floor. Madame caught at my arm to save herself from falling; but I
slipped, and was cut on the bottle--so."
As she ended there was a knock, but the curtain was not drawn, and Mrs.
Falchion's voice was heard. "My dress is stained, Justine."
The half-fainting girl weakly replied: "I am very sorry, madame, indeed."
To this Mrs. Falchion rejoined: "When you have been attended to, you may
go to bed, Justine. I shall not want you again to-night. But I shall
change my dress. It is so unpleasant; I hate blood. I hope you will be
well in the morning."
To this Justine replied: "Ah, madame, I am sorry. I could not help it;
but I shall be quite well in the morning, I am sure." Then she added
quietly to me: "The poor madame! She will not see suffering.
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