Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 46: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

36 THE SKIRMISH. upon the head and a ballin the stomach. When the mud and blood were cleaned off and left his features uncovered, Jacques uttered acry. The wounded man raised his eyes to him. ‘*‘Ah! you recognize me now,’’ said he, with a bitter laugh. ‘‘When you raised me I said nothing, for I was thirsty. Now finish me if you wish to do so.”’ ‘‘Oh!’’ said Jacques, with an expression of horror. **Parbleu! you have the right to do it.”’ ‘The right of an assassin!’’ ‘*Ah! you have those scruples! As for myself, I shall not be too conscientious if some day—— But you have placed me in too piteous a state for me toever begin again. Diable! you have avenged yourseif well.’’ *“No, I have fought, that is all.”’ “Oh, Iam not vexed with youabout it. If I had cracked your head for you, all this would not have happened. It is a lesson, but it is a little late for me to make use of it; let it profit you at least.’’ The officer turned over on his side. ‘*You see,’’ he resumed, ‘‘when you hold an enemy, the shortest way is to blow out his brains. It is a principle which I have always put in practice; as a result of having forgotten it once, you see to what I am reduced——”’ A convulsion seized the Hungarian, who writhed at the foot of the tree. ‘“Water! water!’’ he again murmured. ‘‘I have coals of fire in my stomach.”’ Jacques placed a hatful at his side, and ran to seek aid. He found Monsieur d’Assonville inspecting his troop, fol- lowed by a quartermaster, who was erasing the names of the dead from the company’s book. ‘The Hungarian officer who wished to hang me on the frontier of Artois is dying,’’ Jacques said to him; ‘‘can I not get him transported to the ambulance so that he can receive the care which his condition calls for?”’ Monsieur d’Assonville looked at Jacques. ‘‘Ah! it is the captain who wished to hang you on the frontier of Artois! "Tis well, my boy, go ahead.’’ Jacques left with two grenadiers. The Hungarian officer was placed upon a litter lined with bundles of straw. Some drops of blood had congealed on the borders of his open wounds, and his teeth chattered with cold. The falconer’s son covered him with his coat. ‘‘What kind of a heart have you?’’ the officer brusquely said to him. (E(@) Eomichbooks m