“Let none speak but I,” said Camille; “none but I have the right to speak.  Poor weak angel that loved yet could not wait:  I forgive you.  Be happy, if you can; I bid you be hap-py.”

The quiet, despairing tones died away, and with them life seemed to end to her, and hope to go out.  He turned his back quickly on her.  He cried hoarsely, “To the army!  Back to the army, and a soldier’s grave!” Then with a prodigious effort he drew himself haughtily up in marching attitude.  He took three strides, erect and fiery and bold.

At the next something seemed to snap asunder in the great heart, and the worn body that heart had held up so long, rolled like a dead log upon the ground with a tremendous fall.

CHAPTER XI.

The baroness and Aubertin were just getting out of their carriage, when suddenly they heard shrieks of terror in the Pleasaunce.  They came with quaking hearts as fast as their old limbs would carry them.  They found Rose and Josephine crouched over the body of a man, an officer.

Rose was just tearing open his collar and jacket.  Dard and Jacintha had run from the kitchen at the screams.  Camille lay on his back, white and motionless.

The doctor was the first to come up.  “Who! what is this?  I seem to know his face.”  Then shaking his head, “Whoever it is, it is a bad case.  Stand away, ladies.  Let me feel his pulse.”

Whilst the old man was going stiffly down on one knee, Jacintha uttered a cry of terror.  “See, see! his shirt! that red streak!  Ah, ah! it is getting bigger and bigger:”  and she turned faint in a moment, and would have fallen but for Dard.

The doctor looked.  “All the better,” said he firmly.  “I thought he was dead.  His blood flows; then I will save him.  Don’t clutch me so, Josephine; don’t cling to me like that.  Now is the time to show your breed:  not turn sick at the sight of a little blood, like that foolish creature, but help me save him.”

“Take him in-doors,” cried the baroness.

“Into our house, mamma?” gasped Rose; “no, no.”

“What,” said the baroness, “a wounded soldier who has fought for France! leave him to lie and die outside my door:  what would my son say to that?  He is a soldier himself.”

Rose cast a hasty look at Josephine.  Josephine’s eyes were bent on the ground, and her hands clenched and trembling.

“Now, Jacintha, you be off,” said the doctor.  “I can’t have cowards about him to make the others as bad.  Go and stew down a piece of good beef for him.  Stew it in red wine and water.”

“That I will:  poor thing!”

“Why, I know him,” said the baroness suddenly; “it is an old acquaintance, young Dujardin:  you remember, Josephine.  I used to suspect him of a fancy for you, poor fellow!  Why, he must have come here to see us, poor soul.”

“No matter who it is; it is a man.  Now, girls, have you courage, have you humanity?  Then come one on each side of him and take hands beneath his back, while I lift his head and Dard his legs.”