ssed me, and, as he came on
slowly, I saw the figure spring suddenly from the roadside and make a
stroke at the horseman. In a moment they were a rolling mass upon the
ground, while the horse trotted down the road a little, and stood still.
I never knew the cause of that encounter--robbery, or private hate, or
paid assault; but there was scarcely a sound as the two men struggled.
Presently, there was groaning, and both lay still. I hurried to them,
and found one dead, and the other dying, and dagger wounds in both, for
the assault had been at such close quarters that the horseman had had no
chance to use a pistol.

My plans were changed on the instant. I drew the military coat, boots,
and cap off the horseman, and put them on myself; and thrusting my hand
into his waistcoat--for he looked like a courier--I found a packet. This
I put into my pocket, and then, making for the horse which stood quiet
in the road, I mounted it and rode on towards the town. Striking a
light, I found that the packet was addressed to the Governor. A serious
thought disturbed me: I could not get into the town through the gates
without the countersign. I rode on, anxious and perplexed.

Presently a thought pulled me up. The courier was insensible when I
left him, and he was the only one who could help me in this. I greatly
reproached myself for leaving him while he was still alive. "Poor
devil," thought I to myself, "there is some one whom his death will
hurt. He must not die alone. He was no enemy of mine." I went back, and,
getting from the horse, stooped to him, lifted up his head, and found
that he was not dead. I spoke in his ear. He moaned, and his eyes
opened.

"What is your name?" said I.

"Jean--Labrouk," he whispered.

Now I remembered him. He was the soldier whom Gabord had sent as
messenger to Voban the night I was first taken to the citadel.

"Shall I carry word for you to any one?" asked I.

There was a slight pause; then he said, "Tell my--Babette--Jacques
Dobrotte owes me ten francs--and--a leg--of mutton. Tell--my Babette--to
give my coat of beaver fur to Gabord the soldier. Tell"...he sank back,
but raised himself, and continued: "Tell my Babette I weep with her....
Ah, mon grand homme de Calvaire--bon soir!" He sank back again, but
I roused him with one question more, vital to me. I must have the
countersign.

"Labrouk! Labrouk!" said I sharply.

He opened his dull, glazed eyes.

"Qui va la?" said I, and I waited a