of amazement and joy.
"He is living by use of the mechanical pump," Parsons said to Loris. "Of course, if everything goes well--"
"Ultimately you will stitch the heart fiber and attempt to remove the pump," Loris finished.
"Yes," he said.
Loris said, "Doctor, would you please do that now? There are conditions that you know nothing about; please believe me when I say that if there's any possibility that you could perform the surgery on the heart at this time . . ." Pleadingly, she caught hold of his hands; he felt her strong fingers dig into his flesh. Gazing up at him she said, "For my sake. Even if there's more risk this way, I feel convinced that you should go ahead. I have good reasons. Please, Dr. Parsons."
Reluctantly, studying the pulse and respiration of the patient, he said, "He would have to mend over a period of weeks. You understand that. He can't take any strain, of any sort, until the fiber--"
"You'll do it?" she said, her eyes shining.
Assembling his instruments, he began the grueling task of repairing the ruptured heart.
When he had finished, he discovered that only Loris remained in the chamber; the others had been sent out, undoubtedly on her order. She sat silently across from him, her arms folded. Now she seemed more composed. But her face still had the rigidity, the fear.
"All right?" she said with a tremor.
"Evidently," he said. Exhausted, he started putting away his instruments.
"Doctor," she breathed, rising and approaching him, "you have done a profound thing. Not only for us, but for the world."
Too worn-out to pay much attention to her, he stripped off his gloves. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm too tired to talk. I'd like to go up to my apartment and go to bed."
"You'll be on call? If anything goes wrong?" As he started from the chamber, Loris hurried after him. "What should we watch for? We'll have attendants on hand at all times, of course . . . I realize that he's quite feeble, and will be for some time." Now she made him halt. "When will he be conscious?"
"Probably in an hour," he said, at the door.
That apparently satisfied her. Nodding in a preoccupied fashion, she started back to the patient.
By himself, he ascended the stairs, and, after getting the wrong room several times, at last managed to find his own apartment. Inside, he shut and locked the door and sank down on the bed to rest. He felt too weary to undress or get under the covers.
The next he knew, the door was open. Loris stood in the entrance, gazing down at him. The room had become dark-- or had he lain down with the light off? Groggily, he started to sit up.
"I thought you might want something to eat," she said. "It's after midnight." As she switched on a lamp and went over to pull the drapes, he saw that a servant had followed her into the apartment.
"Thanks," he said, rubbing his eyes.
Loris dismissed the servant and began lifting the pewter covers from the dishes. He could smell the warm, rich odors of food.
"Any change in your father?" he asked.
Loris said, "He became conscious for a moment. At least, he opened his eyes. And I had a distinct impression that he was aware of me. And then he went to sleep; he's sleeping now."
"He'll sleep a lot," Parsons said. But he thought, That may indicate possible brain damage.
She had arranged two chairs at a small table, and now she let him seat her. "Thank you," she said. "You put everything you had into what you did. Such an impressive spectacle for us to see--a doctor and his devotion to healing." She smiled at him; in the half-light of the room her lips were full and moist. Since he had last seen her she had changed to a different dress, and her hair, now, was tied back, held in place by a clasp. "You're a very good man," she said. "A very kind and worthy man. We're ennobled by your presence."
Embarrassed, he shrugged, not knowing what to say.
"I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable," she said. She began to eat, and he did so too. But after a few bites he realized
"He is living by use of the mechanical pump," Parsons said to Loris. "Of course, if everything goes well--"
"Ultimately you will stitch the heart fiber and attempt to remove the pump," Loris finished.
"Yes," he said.
Loris said, "Doctor, would you please do that now? There are conditions that you know nothing about; please believe me when I say that if there's any possibility that you could perform the surgery on the heart at this time . . ." Pleadingly, she caught hold of his hands; he felt her strong fingers dig into his flesh. Gazing up at him she said, "For my sake. Even if there's more risk this way, I feel convinced that you should go ahead. I have good reasons. Please, Dr. Parsons."
Reluctantly, studying the pulse and respiration of the patient, he said, "He would have to mend over a period of weeks. You understand that. He can't take any strain, of any sort, until the fiber--"
"You'll do it?" she said, her eyes shining.
Assembling his instruments, he began the grueling task of repairing the ruptured heart.
When he had finished, he discovered that only Loris remained in the chamber; the others had been sent out, undoubtedly on her order. She sat silently across from him, her arms folded. Now she seemed more composed. But her face still had the rigidity, the fear.
"All right?" she said with a tremor.
"Evidently," he said. Exhausted, he started putting away his instruments.
"Doctor," she breathed, rising and approaching him, "you have done a profound thing. Not only for us, but for the world."
Too worn-out to pay much attention to her, he stripped off his gloves. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm too tired to talk. I'd like to go up to my apartment and go to bed."
"You'll be on call? If anything goes wrong?" As he started from the chamber, Loris hurried after him. "What should we watch for? We'll have attendants on hand at all times, of course . . . I realize that he's quite feeble, and will be for some time." Now she made him halt. "When will he be conscious?"
"Probably in an hour," he said, at the door.
That apparently satisfied her. Nodding in a preoccupied fashion, she started back to the patient.
By himself, he ascended the stairs, and, after getting the wrong room several times, at last managed to find his own apartment. Inside, he shut and locked the door and sank down on the bed to rest. He felt too weary to undress or get under the covers.
The next he knew, the door was open. Loris stood in the entrance, gazing down at him. The room had become dark-- or had he lain down with the light off? Groggily, he started to sit up.
"I thought you might want something to eat," she said. "It's after midnight." As she switched on a lamp and went over to pull the drapes, he saw that a servant had followed her into the apartment.
"Thanks," he said, rubbing his eyes.
Loris dismissed the servant and began lifting the pewter covers from the dishes. He could smell the warm, rich odors of food.
"Any change in your father?" he asked.
Loris said, "He became conscious for a moment. At least, he opened his eyes. And I had a distinct impression that he was aware of me. And then he went to sleep; he's sleeping now."
"He'll sleep a lot," Parsons said. But he thought, That may indicate possible brain damage.
She had arranged two chairs at a small table, and now she let him seat her. "Thank you," she said. "You put everything you had into what you did. Such an impressive spectacle for us to see--a doctor and his devotion to healing." She smiled at him; in the half-light of the room her lips were full and moist. Since he had last seen her she had changed to a different dress, and her hair, now, was tied back, held in place by a clasp. "You're a very good man," she said. "A very kind and worthy man. We're ennobled by your presence."
Embarrassed, he shrugged, not knowing what to say.
"I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable," she said. She began to eat, and he did so too. But after a few bites he realized
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