'I do well to be
angry,' was the burden of her cry. 'How many just men were there
at Scutari? How many who cared at all for the sick, or had done
anything for their relief? Were there ten? Were there five? Was
there even one?' She could not be sure.
At one time, during several weeks, her vituperations descended
upon the head of Sidney Herbert himself. He had misinterpreted
her wishes, he had traversed her positive instructions, and it
was not until he had admitted his error and apologised in abject
terms that he was allowed again into favour. While this
misunderstanding was at its height, an aristocratic young
gentleman arrived at Scutari with a recommendation from the
Minister. He had come out from England filled with a romantic
desire to render homage to the angelic heroine of his dreams. He
had, he said, cast aside his life of ease and luxury; he would
devote his days and nights to the service of that gentle lady; he
would perform the most menial offices, he would 'fag' for her, he
would be her footman-- and feel requited by a single smile. A
single smile, indeed, he had, but it was of an unexpected kind.
Miss Nightingale at first refused to see him, and then, when she
consented, believing that he was an emissary sent by Sidney
Herbert to put her in the wrong over their dispute, she took
notes of her conversation with him, and insisted on his signing
them at the end of it.
Pages:
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200