这以后没发生什么事，直到下午。那医生是个瘦小沉默的人，战争似乎搞得他很伤脑筋。他以一种轻巧、文雅而又显得嫌恶的态度，从我两条大腿中取出了几小块钢弹片。他用一种叫做“雪”1或是什么别的名称的局部麻醉剂，使肌肉组织麻木，免得疼痛，直到他那探针、解剖刀或是钳子穿透了麻醉的肌肉层才觉得痛。病人可清清楚楚晓得什么地方是麻醉的地方。过了一会，脆弱文雅的医生受不住了，他于是说，还是拍爱克司光片子吧。探伤的方法不大满意，他说。

爱克司光片子是在马焦莱医院拍的，那个拍片子的医生为人容易兴奋，很能干，愉愉快快。他设法把我的两个肩膀高抬起来，以便病人亲自从爱克司光屏幕上看到那些比较大的异物。他说洗好片子就会送来。医生请我在他那袖珍札记簿上写下我的姓名、部队番号和感想。他说那些异物丑恶、卑鄙、残暴。奥地利人根本就是混蛋。我杀了多少敌人？我一个都没有杀过，但是为了讨好起见，就说杀了许多。当时盖琪小姐也在场，医生就用胳臂搂着她说，她比克娄巴特拉还要美丽。她懂吗？克娄巴特拉是古埃及的女王。是的，她果真比女王还要美丽。我们搭救护车回小医院，给人家抬了好一会后，终于又躺在原来楼上的床上。拍好的片子当天下午送到，那医生曾指天发誓，说他当天下午就要，现在果真拿到了。凯瑟琳·巴克莱拿来给我看。片子装在红色封套里，她取了出来，就着光亮竖起来给我看。我们就一同看。“那是你的右腿，”她说，把片子仍旧装进套子里。“这是你的左腿。”

“拿开，”我说，“你到床上来。”

“不行，”她说。“我只是拿来给你看看的。”

她走出去，丢下我躺在那儿。那是个炎热的下午，我躺在床上躺得厌烦了。我打发门房去买报纸，凡是买得到的都买来。

门房回来前，有三位医生到房间里来。我发现凡是医道不高明的医师，总是喜欢找些人来会诊。一个开阑尾也不会开的医师，必定会给你推荐另外一位医生，而他所推荐的那位一定是割扁桃腺也不会割的。现在进来的就是三位这一类的大夫。

“就是这位青年，”那做手术很轻巧的住院医师说。

“你好？”医生中一位瘦瘦的高个子说，他留着胡子。第三位医师手里捧着那些装有爱克司光片子的红封套，一声不响。

“把绷带解开吧？”留胡子的医生问。

“当然啦。请解开绷带，护士小姐，”住院医生对盖琪小姐说。盖琪小姐解开绷带。我低头望望腿。在野战医院，我的两腿有点像那种不大新鲜的汉堡牛排。现在两腿已经结了痂，膝盖发肿变色，小腿下陷，不过没有脓。

“很干净，”住院医师说。“很干净，很好。”

“嗯，”胡子医生说。第三位医生则越过住院医师的肩头向我探望。“膝头请动一动，”胡子医生说。

“不能动。”

“试试关节吧？”胡子医生问。他袖管上除了三颗星外，还有一条杠杠。原来是个上尉。

1 指可卡因。

“当然行，”住院医生说。两位医生谨慎地抓住我的右腿，把它扭弯。

“疼，”我说。

“是的。是的。再弯下去些，医生。”

“够了。再也弯不下去了，”我说。

“部分联接不良，”上尉说。他直起身来。“医生，请你再给我看看片子行不行？”第三位医生递了一张片子给他。“不对。请你给我左腿的。”

“那就是左腿啊，医生。”

“你说得对。方才我是从另一个角度来观看的。”他把片子递回去。把另外一张片子端详了一些时候。“看见吗，医生？”他指着一块异物，在光线的衬托下显得又圆又清楚。他们共同研究了一会儿片子。

“只有一点我能说，”胡子上尉说。“这是时间问题。三个月，也许六个月。”

“关节滑液到那时候必然又形成了。”

“当然。这是时间问题。像这样一个膝头，弹片还没有结成胞囊，叫我就来动手术，可对不起良心。”

“我同意你的意见，医生。”

“干吗要等六个月？”我问。

“有六个月时间让弹片结成胞囊，膝头动手术才能安全。”

“我不相信，”我说。

“年轻人，难道你自己的膝头不要了吗？”

“不要，”我说。

“什么？”

“截掉算了，”我说，“以便装个钩子上去。”

“你是什么意思？钩子？”

“他在开玩笑，”住院医生说。他轻轻拍拍我的肩膀。“他膝头当然是要的。这是个很勇敢的青年。已经提名给他银质勋章了。”

“恭喜恭喜，”上尉说。他握握我的手。“我只能说，为安全起见，像这样一个膝头，你至少得等待六个月才能动手术。当然你也可以另请高明。”

“多谢多谢，”我说。“我尊重你的高见。”

上尉看看他的表。

“我们得走了，”他说。“祝你万事顺利。”“我也祝诸位凡事顺利，还要多谢诸位，”我说。我跟第三位医生握握手：“伐里尼上尉——亨利中尉。”于是他们三人都走出房去。“盖琪小姐，”我喊道。她走进来。“请你请住院医生回来一下。”他走进来，手里拿着帽子，在床边站住了。“你想见我吗？”“是的。我不能等待六个月才动手术。天啊，医生，你曾在床上躺过六个月吗？”

“那倒不一定是全部时间都躺在床上。你那些伤得先晒晒太阳。以后你可以拄着拐杖。”

“等上六个月才开刀？”

“这才是安全的办法。必须让那些异物有时间结成胞囊，还有关节滑液得重新形成。到那时开膝头才安全。”

“你自己真的以为我必须等待那么久吗？”

“这样才是安全的。”

“那上尉是谁？”

“他是米兰非常杰出的外科医生。”

“他是上尉，不是吗？”

“是的，不过他是位杰出的外科医生。”

“我的腿可不要上尉来胡搞。他如果行的话，早已当上少校了。医生，我知道上尉这军衔意味着什么。”

“他是位杰出的外科医生，他诊断的意见比我认得的任何医生都高明。”

“可否再请一位外科医生来会诊？”

“你要的话，当然可以。不过我个人还是愿意采纳伐雷拉医生的意见。”

“你可否另请一位外科医生来看看？”

“那么我请瓦伦蒂尼来看看吧。”

“他是谁？”

“他是马焦莱医院的外科医师。”

“好。我很感激你。你明白，医生，要我在床上躺六个月太难受了。”

“你也不必老是躺在床上。你先用日光治疗法。随后作些轻松的体操。等到一结成胞囊，我们就动手术。”

“但是我不能等待六个月啊。”医生把他的纤细的手指摊开在他握着的帽子上，微笑了一下。“你这么急于回前线吗？”

“为什么不？”

“这好极了，”他说。“你是个高贵的青年。”他弯下身来，轻轻地吻吻我的前额。“我打发人去请瓦伦蒂尼。你不要担忧，不要兴奋。做个好孩子。”“喝杯酒吧？”我问。

“不，谢谢你。我从来不喝酒。”

“尝一杯看看。”我按电铃叫门房拿杯子来。

“不。不，谢谢你。人家在等我。”

“再会，”我说。

“再会。”

两小时后，瓦伦蒂尼医生进病房来了。他匆匆忙忙，胡子的两端朝上直翘。他是名少校，脸孔晒得黑黑，老是笑着。

“你怎么得了这个伤，这个混蛋东西？”他问。“片子给我看看。是的。是的。就是那个。你山羊一样健康。这位漂亮姑娘是谁？是你的女朋友吧？我一猜就着。这岂不是场该死的战争吗？这儿你感觉怎么样？你是个好孩子。我一定把你弄得比新的人还要好。这样疼吗？当然是疼的。这些医生最喜欢叫你疼痛。他们究竟给你做了什么啊？姑娘不会讲意大利话吗？她该学一学。多么可爱的姑娘。我可以教教她。我也来这儿当病人吧。不，还是等你们将来生儿女时，我来个免费接生吧。她听得懂吗？她会给你生个好孩子的。生一个像她那样好看的金发蓝眼睛的。这就行了。这没有问题。多可爱的姑娘。问她肯不肯陪我吃晚饭。不，我不抢你的。谢谢你。多谢多谢，小姐。完了。”

“我所要知道的都够了。”他拍拍我的肩膀。“绷带由它去，不必再包上。”

“喝杯酒吗，瓦伦蒂尼医生？”

“一杯酒？当然啦。我喝它十杯。在哪儿？”

“在镜橱里。由巴克莱小姐去拿。”

“干杯。干杯，小姐。多么可爱的姑娘。我给你带好一点的科涅克白兰地来。”他抹抹小胡子。

“照你看，什么时候可以开刀？”“明儿早上。再早不行。你的肠胃得先弄干净。你得先灌肠。所有的手续我关照楼下那位老太太好了。再会。明天见。我带好一点的科涅克白兰地来。你这里很舒服。再会。明儿见。好好睡一觉。我一早就来。”他站在门口招招手，他的小胡子朝上直翘，褐色的脸上在笑着。他袖章上有一颗星，因为他是位少校。

nothing happened until afternoon. the doctor was a thin quiet little man who seemed disturbed by the war. he took out a number of small steel splinters from my thighs with delicate and refined distaste. he used a local anaesthetic called something or other "snow," which froze the tissue and avoided pain until the probe, the scalpel or the forceps got below the frozen portion. the anxsthetized area was clearly defined by the patient and after a time the doctor's fragile delicacy was exhausted and he said it would be better to have an x-ray. probing was unsatisfactory, he said.

the x-ray was taken at the ospedale maggiore and the doctor who did it was excitable, efficient and cheerful. it was arranged by holding up the shoulders, that the patient should see personally some of the larger foreign bodies through the machine. the plates were to be sent over. the doctor requested me to write in his pocket notebook, my name, and regiment and some sentiment. he declared that the foreign bodies were ugly, nasty, brutal. the austrians were sons of bitches. how many had i killed? i had not killed any but i was anxious to please--and i said i had killed plenty. miss gage was with me and the doctor put his arm around her and said she was more beautiful than cleopatra. did she understand that? cleopatra the former queen of egypt. yes, by god she was. we returned to the little hospital in the ambulance and after a while and much lifting i was upstairs and in bed again. the plates came that afternoon, the doctor had said by god he would have them that afternoon and he did. catherine barkley showed them to me. they were in red envelopes and she took them out of the envelopes and held them up to the light and we both looked.

"that's your right leg," she said, then put the plate back in the envelope. "this is your left."

"put them away," i said, "and come over to the bed."

"i can't," she said. "i just brought them in for a second to show you."

she went out and i lay there. it was a hot afternoon and i was sick of lying in bed. i sent the porter for the papers, all the papers he could get.

before he came back three doctors came into the room. i have noticed that doctors who fail in the practice of medicine have a tendency to seek one another's company and aid in consultation. a doctor who cannot take out your appendix properly will recommend to you a doctor who will be unable to remove your tonsils with success. these were three such doctors.

"this is the young man," said the house doctor with the delicate hands.

"how do you do?" said the tall gaunt doctor with the beard. the third doctor, who carried the x-ray plates in their red envelopes, said nothing.

"remove the dressings?" questioned the bearded doctor.

"certainly. remove the dressings, please, nurse," the house doctor said to miss gage. miss gage removed the dressings. i looked down at the legs. at the field hospital they had the look of not too freshly ground hamburger steak. now they were crusted and the knee was swollen and discolored and the calf sunken but there was no pus.

"very clean," said the house doctor. "very clean and nice."

"urn," said the doctor with the beard. the third doctor looked over the house doctor's shoulder.

"please move the knee," said the bearded doctor.

"i can't."

"test the articulation?" the bearded doctor questioned. he had a stripe beside the three stars on his sleeve. that meant he was a first captain.

"certainly," the house doctor said. two of them took hold of my right leg very gingerly and bent it.

"that hurts," i said.

"yes. yes. a little further, doctor."

"that's enough. that's as far as it goes," i said.

"partial articulation," said the first captain. he straightened up. "may i see the plates again, please, doctor?" the third doctor handed him one of the plates. "no. the left leg, please."

"that is the left leg, doctor."

"you are right. i was looking from a different angle." he returned the plate. the other plate he examined for some time. "you see, doctor?" he pointed to one of the foreign bodies which showed spherical and clear against the light. they examined the plate for some time.

"only one thing i can say," the first captain with the beard said. "it is a question of time. three months, six months probably."

"certainly the synovial fluid must re-form."

"certainly. it is a question of time. i could not conscientiously open a knee like that before the projectile was encysted."

"i agree with you, doctor."

"six months for what?" i asked.

"six months for the projectile to encyst before the knee can be opened safely."

"i don't believe it," i said.

"do you want to keep your knee, young man?"

"no," i said.

"what?"

"i want it cut off," i said, "so i can wear a hook on it."

"what do you mean? a hook?"

"he is joking," said the house doctor. he patted my shoulder very delicately. "he wants to keep his knee. this is a very brave young man. he has been proposed for the silver medal of valor."

"all my felicitations," said the first captain. he shook my hand. "i can only say that to be on the safe side you should wait at least six months before opening such a knee. you are welcome of course to another opinion."

"thank you very much," i said. "i value your opinion."

the first captain looked at his watch.

"we must go," he said. "all my best wishes."

"all my best wishes and many thanks," i said. i shook hands with the third doctor. "capitano varini--tenente enry," and they all three went out of the room.

"miss gage," i called. she came in. "please ask the house doctor to come back a minute."

he came in holding his cap and stood by the bed. "did you wish to see me?"

"yes. i can't wait six months to be operated on. my god, doctor, did you ever stay in bed six months?"

"you won't be in bed all the time. you must first have the wounds exposed to the sun. then afterward you can be on crutches."

"for six months and then have an operation?"

"that is the safe way. the foreign bodies must be allowed to encyst and the synovial fluid will re-form. then it will be safe to open up the knee."

"do you really think yourself i will have to wait that long?"

"that is the safe way."

"who is that first captain?"

"he is a very excellent surgeon of milan."

"he's a first captain, isn't he?"

"yes, but he is an excellent surgeon."

"i don't want my leg fooled with by a first captain. if he was any good he would be made a major. i know what a first captain is, doctor."

"he is an excellent surgeon and i would rather have his judgment than any surgeon i know."

"could another surgeon see it?"

"certainly if you wish. but i would take dr. varella's opinion myself."

"could you ask another surgeon to come and see it?"

"i will ask valentini to come."

"who is he?"

"he is a surgeon of the ospedale maggiore."

"good. i appreciate it very much. you understand, doctor, i couldn't stay in bed six months."

"you would not be in bed. you would first take a sun cure. then you could have light exercise. then when it was encysted we would operate."

"but i can't wait six months."

the doctor spread his delicate fingers on the cap he held and smiled. "you are in such a hurry to get back to the front?"

"why not?"

"it is very beautiful," he said. "you are a noble young man." he stooped over and kissed me very delicately on the forehead. "i will send for valentini. do not worry and excite yourself. be a good boy."

"will you have a drink?" i asked.

"no thank you. i never drink alcohol."

"just have one." i rang for the porter to bring glasses.

"no. no thank you. they are waiting for me."

"good-by," i said.

"good-by."

two hours later dr. valentini came into the room. he was in a great hurry and the points of his mustache stood straight up. he was a major, his face was tanned and he laughed all the time.

"how did you do it, this rotten thing?" he asked. "let me see the plates. yes. yes. that's it. you look healthy as a goat. who's the pretty girl? is she your girl? i thought so. isn't this a bloody war? how does that feel? you are a fine boy. i'll make you better than new. does that hurt? you bet it hurts. how they love to hurt you, these doctors. what have they done for you so far? can't that girl talk italian? she should learn. what a lovely girl. i could teach her. i will be a patient here myself. no, but i will do all your maternity work free. does she understand that? she will make you a fine boy. a fine blonde like she is. that's fine. that's all right. what a lovely girl. ask her if she eats supper with me. no i won't take her away from you. thank you. thank you very much, miss. that's all."

"that's all i want to know." he patted me on the shoulder. "leave the dressings off."

"will you have a drink, dr. valentini?"

"a drink? certainly. i will have ten drinks. where are they?"

"in the armoire. miss barkley will get the bottle."

"cheery oh. cheery oh to you, miss. what a lovely girl. i will bring you better cognac than that." he wiped his mustache.

"when do you think it can be operated on?"

"to-morrow morning. not before. your stomach must be emptied. you must be washed out. i will see the old lady downstairs and leave instructions. good-by. i see you to-morrow. i'll bring you better cognac than that. you are very comfortable here. good-by. until to-morrow. get a good sleep. i'll see you early." he waved from the doorway, his mustaches went straight up, his brown face was smiling. there was a star in a box on his sleeve because he was a major.