He took the saddle and blanket from the dead horse and arranged a comfortable seat for the Colonel, who declared that a broken ankle was nothing; but his face was growing pale as he spoke.
"You remember," he said to Broussard, "that story about General Moreau, something more than a hundred years ago, who smoked a cigar while the surgeons were cutting off his leg." "Yes, sir," replied Broussard.

"You are not as badly off as General Moreau, and I think I can help you, sir." Broussard proceeded to take off the Colonel's boot and stocking.

He rubbed the broken ankle with snow and then, with his handkerchief and a splinter of wood, made a bandage and splints, as soldiers are taught to do.
Then Broussard accepted the cigar offered him by the Colonel, and smoked vigorously.

A lieutenant does not lead the conversation with a Colonel, and so Broussard said nothing more and devoted himself to keeping the fire going.
Colonel Fortescue bore the pain, which was extreme, in grim silence, but Broussard noticed that he stopped smoking and threw away his cigar.

It could not soothe him as it did General Moreau.