nd a loud
cry from my comrades bursts out, "Come back! come back!"

Forgetting everything in the intense anxiety of the moment, I spring to
my legs; but scarce is my head above the parapet when a bullet strikes
me in the chest. I fall covered with blood.

"Save him! save him!" is the cry of a thousand voices; and a rush is
made upon the bridge. The musketry opens on these brave fellows, and
they fall back wounded and discouraged.

[Illustration: 504]

Crouching beneath the parapet, I try to stanch my wound; but the blood
is gushing in torrents, my senses are reeling, the objects around grow
dimmer, the noise seems fainter. But suddenly I feel a hand upon my
neck, and at the same instant a flask is pressed to my lips. I drink,
and the wine rallies me; the bleeding is stopped. My eyes open again;
and dare I trust their evidence? Who is it that now shelters beneath the
parapet beside me? Minette, the vivandiere! her handsome face flushed,
her eyes wild with excitement, and her brown hair in great tangled
masses on her back and shoulders.

"Minette, is it indeed thee?" said I, pressing her hand to my lips.

"I knew you at the head of your regiment some days ago, and I thought we
should meet ere long. But lie still; we are safe here. The fire slackens
too; they have fallen back since the gate was forced."

"Is the gate forced, Minette?"

"Ay, the petard has done its work; but the columns are not come up. Lie
still till they pass."

"Dear, dear girl! what a brave heart is thine!" said I, gazing on her
beautiful features, tenfold handsomer from the expression which her
heroism had lent them.

"You would surely adventure as much for me," said she, half-timidly, as
she pressed her handkerchief against the wound, which still oozed blood.

The action entangled her fingers in a ribbon. She tried to extricate
them; and the locket fell out, opening by accident at the same moment.
With a convulsive energy she clasped the miniature in both hands, and
riveted her eyes upon it. The look was wild as that of madness itself,
and her features grew stiff as she gazed, while the pallor of death
overspread them. It was scarce the action of a second; in another, she
flung back the picture from her and sprang to her feet. One glance
she gave me, fleeting as the lightning flash, but how full of storied
sorrow!

The moment after she was in the middle of the bridge. She waved her cap
wildly above her head, and beckoned to the column t