he stable, and I
sent my two soldiers to meet the others, and returned to the house.
Then the cure, Marchas and I took a mattress into the room to put the
wounded man on; the Sister tore up a table napkin in order to make
lint, while the three frightened women remained huddled up in a corner.

"Soon I heard the rattle of sabers on the road, and I took a candle to
show a light to the men who were returning. They soon appeared,
carrying that inert, soft, long, and sinister object which a human body
becomes when life no longer sustains it.

"They put the wounded man on the mattress that had been prepared for
him, and I saw at the first glance that he was dying. He had the death
rattle, and was spitting up blood which ran out of the corners of his
mouth, forced out of his lungs by his gasps. The man was covered with
it! His cheeks, his beard, his hair, his neck, and his clothes seemed
to have been rubbed, to have been dipped in a red tub; the blood had
congealed on him, and had become a dull color which was horrible to
look at.

"The old man, wrapped up in a large shepherd's cloak, occasionally
opened his dull, vacant eyes. They seemed stupid with astonishment,
like the eyes of hunted animals which fall at the sportsman's feet,
half dead before the shot, stupefied with fear and surprise.

"The cure exclaimed: 'Ah! there is old Placide, the shepherd from Les
Marlins. He is deaf, poor man, and heard nothing. Ah! Oh, God! they
have killed the unhappy man!' The Sister had opened his blouse and
shirt and was looking at a little blue hole in the middle of his chest,
which was not bleeding any more. 'There is nothing to be done,' she
said.

"The shepherd was gasping terribly and bringing up blood with every
breath. In his throat to the very depth of his lungs, they could hear
an ominous and continued gurgling. The cure, standing in front of him,
raised his right hand, made the sign of the cross, and in a slow and
solemn voice pronounced the Latin words which purify men's souls. But
before they were finished, the old man was shaken by a rapid shudder,
as if something had broken inside him; he no longer breathed. He was
dead.

"When I turned round I saw a sight which was even more horrible than
the death struggle of this unfortunate man. The three old women were
standing up huddled close together, hideous, and grimacing with fear
and horror. I went up to them, and they began to utter shrill screams,
while La Jean-Jean, whose