“Poor fellow; I fear he is past help,” murmured Roger.

“Let us find out,” advised the practical Jacques, and, kneeling down on the other side, he assisted me to loosen the doublet.

CHAPTER XVI

A Gleam of Sunshine

“The heart beats, monsieur; faintly, but it beats.”

“Are you sure, Jacques?  Are you quite certain?”

“I can feel it plainly, monsieur.  He has lost a great deal of blood.  If we move him the bleeding may begin again; I will fetch a surgeon to dress his wounds here.”

It seemed an age before Jacques returned with a surgeon, and meanwhile Felix lay perfectly still.  There was not the flutter of an eyelid, not the twitching of a muscle; only by placing a hand over his heart could one tell that he still lived.

The surgeon shook his head as he bound up the wounds, evidently having little faith in my comrade’s chance of recovery.  We got him back to the camp, however, where Jacques and I watched by turns all night at his side.  Toward morning he moved restlessly, and presently his eyes opened.

“Felix,” I said softly, with a great joy at my heart, “Felix, do you know me?”

“The flag!” he said feebly, “follow the flag!  Forward, brave hearts!” and he would have risen, but I held him down gently.

“The battle is over, Felix; we have won a great victory.  It is I, Edmond.  You have been wounded, but are getting better.  We found you on the field.”

“I dropped the flag,” he said, smiling at me, but not knowing me.

“It is all right.  We picked it up; it is here,” and I placed it near him.  His hand closed lovingly round the silken folds, and his eyes were filled with deep contentment.

Leaving the room quietly, I called to Jacques, saying, “He is awake, but he does not recognize me.”

“Give him time, monsieur; his brain is not yet clear, but he will come round.  Sit by him a while, so that he can see you; he will remember by degrees.”

Acting on this suggestion, I returned to the bedside and sat down, but without speaking.  Felix lay fingering the flag, but presently his eyes sought mine, wonderingly at first, but afterwards with a gleam of recognition in them.

I had sat thus for perhaps half an hour, when he called me by name, and I bent over him with a throb of joy.

“Edmond,” he said, “where are we?  Is the battle over?”

“Yes, and Cosse has been badly beaten.  You were hurt in the last charge.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, “I remember.  Ah, you found the flag!”

“It was lying beside you; your horse was killed.”

“A pistol-shot,” he said, “and a fellow cut at me with his sword at the same time.  But I am tired.  Is the Admiral safe?”

“Yes, I am going to him now.  Jacques will stay with you, and I will send the surgeon.”

Fearing lest he should overtax his strength, I went out, and after a visit to the surgeon proceeded to Coligny’s tent.  My heart ached as I gazed around at my comrades, and realized more fully what the victory had cost us.