It was fortunate that most of the poor in Alexandria did not think of the hospital when they fell ill. They returned to their beds and died there, leaving the problem of the bodies and the sheets and the foul smells to those they loved and left behind. Nevertheless, the hospital was full.A child had died no longer than fifteen minutes ago on Ward B. The chief administrator wrote a quick note to the Sister of Charity who sat in a chair at the ward’s door, and stamped it with his seal. She showed the Frenchman to the bed on which a little boy lay, his hand still in his mother’s, although she could no longer offer him comfort.How were they to get this child away from his mother? Emile and Louis had no reason to be embarrassed. No harm could come to the child now. Louis, however, was embarrassed. He pulled on the stem of his unlit pipe and coughed a small anxious cough. Emile put his hand gently on the mother’s shoulder. “Madame,” he began, “I am Emile Roux, and this is my colleague, Louis Thuillier.
