who had eight large wounds in his body, through which almost
all his blood had welled away. Still, however, he had breathed, which
afforded inexpressible joy to monseigneur, who insisted on being
present at the first dressing of the wounds and the consultation of the
surgeons. There were two among them who declared M. de Bragelonne would
live. Monseigneur threw his arms around their necks, and promised them a
thousand louis each if they could save him.

"The vicomte heard these transports of joy, and whether he was in
despair, or whether he suffered much from his wounds, he expressed
by his countenance a contradiction, which gave rise to reflection,
particularly in one of the secretaries when he had heard what follows.
The third surgeon was the brother of Sylvain de Saint-Cosme, the most
learned of them all. He probed the wounds in his turn, and said nothing.
M. de Bragelonne fixed his eyes steadily upon the skillful surgeon,
and seemed to interrogate his every movement. The latter, upon being
questioned by monseigneur, replied that he saw plainly three mortal
wounds out of eight, but so strong was the constitution of the wounded,
so rich was he in youth, and so merciful was the goodness of God, that
perhaps M. de Bragelonne might recover, particularly if he did not
move in the slightest manner. Frere Sylvain added, turning towards his
assistants, 'Above everything, do not allow him to move, even a finger,
or you will kill him;' and we all left the tent in very low spirits.
That secretary I have mentioned, on leaving the tent, thought he
perceived a faint and sad smile glide over the lips of M. de Bragelonne
when the duke said to him, in a cheerful, kind voice, 'We will save you,
vicomte, we will save you yet.'

"In the evening, when it was believed the wounded youth had taken some
repose, one of the assistants entered his tent, but rushed out again
immediately, uttering loud cries. We all ran up in disorder, M. le duc
with us, and the assistant pointed to the body of M. de Bragelonne
upon the ground, at the foot of his bed, bathed in the remainder of his
blood. It appeared that he had suffered some convulsion, some delirium,
and that he had fallen; that the fall had accelerated his end, according
to the prognosis of Frere Sylvain. We raised the vicomte; he was cold
and dead. He held a lock of fair hair in his right hand, and that hand
was tightly pressed upon his heart."

Then followed the details of the expedition,