LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

nobleman with an astonishment that amounted almost to stupefaction. What! Was this young officer, so handsome, so calm, so youthful, about to die? Then there were men who met death smilingly!

      He had never seen but one man who thought he was about to die, and that was Schneider when Saint-Just had ordered him to be fastened under the guillotine. Schneider had been hideous with terror, his legs bent under him, and they had been obliged to carry him up the scaffold steps.

      The Comte de Sainte-Hermine, on the contrary, when he was about to die, had gathered all his forces together for the supreme moment. He walked with a light step and a smile on his lips.

      Charles drew near him. "Is there no way of saving you?" he asked in a low tone.

      "Frankly, I know of none; if I did I should try it."

      "But—excuse me; I was far from expecting—"

      "To travel in such bad company?"

      "I want to ask you—" and the boy hesitated.

      "What?"

      "If I can serve you in any way?" continued Charles, lowering his voice still more.

      "You can certainly be of some use to me; since I have seen you I have been revolving a scheme."

      "Tell me what it is."

      "It may be a little dangerous, and it might frighten you."

      "I will risk anything to do you a service. I was in Strasbourg for three or four days, and during that time I saw so many things that nothing can frighten me now."

      "I should like to send a message to my brother."

      "I will deliver it."

      "But it is a letter."

      "I will deliver it."

      "Are you not afraid of the risk you run?"

      "I have already told you that nothing can frighten me now."

      "I suppose I might give it to the captain; he would probably forward it to its destination."

      "With the captain it is only probable, while with me it is certain."

      "Then listen to me."

      "I am listening."

      "The letter is sewn inside my foraging cap."

      "Good."

      "You must ask the captain to let you be present at my execution."

      "I?"

      "Don't be afraid; it is a curious spectacle. Many people go to see executions just for the fun of it."

      "I should never have the courage."

      "Pooh! It is soon over."

      "Oh! never, never!"

      "We will say no more about it," said the prisoner; and he began to whistle, "Vive Henri IV."

      Charles's heart seemed to turn within him, but his resolution was taken. He approached the prisoner again. "Excuse me," he said, "I will do whatever you ask."

      "What a good boy you are! Thanks."

      "Only—"

      "Well?"

      "You must ask the colonel to let me be present. I should never forgive myself if any one thought that I wanted to—"

      "Very good; I will ask him. As a fellow-countryman that will be quite natural. Besides, the soldiers do not put on so many airs as the civilians; they have a stern duty to fulfil, and they make it as easy as possible. Where were we?"

      "You were saying that I must be present at your execution."

      "Yes, that was it. I shall ask to be allowed to send something to my brother that belongs to me—my foraging cap, for example; that is done every day. Besides, you see, a foraging cap would never be suspected."

      "No."

      "Just as they are about to fire I will toss it aside. Do not be in too much of a hurry to pick it up—they might suspect something. But when I am dead—"

      "Oh!" exclaimed Charles, with a shiver.

      "Who has a drop of brandy to give my little compatriot? He is cold."

      "Come here, my pretty boy," said the captain, offering the boy a flask. Charles took a swallow of brandy; not that he was cold, but because he did not wish to betray his feelings.

      "Thanks, captain," he said.

      "At your service, boy; at your service. A mouthful, citizen Sainte-Hermine?"

      "A thousand thanks, captain; I never drink it."

      Charles returned to the prisoner's side.

      "Only," continued the latter, "when I am dead, pick it up without seeming to attach more importance to it than it deserves. But you will remember, will you not, that my last wish—and the last wishes of a dying man are sacred—that my last wish is that the letter in it be given to my brother. If the cap bothers you, take out the letter and throw the cap into the first ditch you come to; but the letter—you will not lose the letter?"

      "No."

      "You will not mislay it?"

      "No, no; do not worry."

      "And you will give it to my brother yourself?"

      "Yes, myself."

      "Try to. Then you must tell him how I died, and he will say: 'I had a brave brother; when my turn comes I will die like him'; and, if his turn comes, he will die like me."

      They had reached a point where two roads branched off; the main road led to the city of Auenheim itself, and the crossroad to the citadel.

      "Citizen," said the captain, "if you are going, as you said, to General Pichegru's headquarters, that is your road. A good journey to you, and try to become a good soldier; you will be in a fine school."

      Charles tried to speak, but his lips refused to form the words. He looked entreatingly at the prisoner.

      "Captain," said the latter, "will you grant me a favor?"

      "If it is in my power to do so."

      "It only depends upon you."

      "What is it?"

      "Well, it may be a weakness, but it will remain between ourselves, will it not? When I die I should like to embrace a compatriot. We are both children of the Jura, this young boy and I; our families live in Besançon, and are on a friendly footing. Some day he will go home, and tell how he met me by chance, how he followed me up to the last moment, and saw me die."

      The captain looked inquiringly at the boy. He was weeping.

      "Why," he said, "if it can give you both any pleasure—"

      "I do not suppose that it will give him much pleasure, but it will please me."

      "I see no objection, and, since you, the person most interested, ask it—"

      "It is granted," said the prisoner.

      "Granted," replied the captain.

      The troop, which had halted for a moment at the crossroads, now resumed its march. At the top of the little hill they saw the citadel of Auenheim. It was the goal of their sad journey. Charles drew closer to the prisoner.

      "You see," said the latter, "so far all goes beautifully."

      They went up the slope, which was very steep, although it wound around the hill. At the gate they made themselves known, and were then swallowed up in the depths of the fortress. The escort, the prisoner and Charles were left in the court while the captain in charge of the squad went to make his report to the commanding officer. In the meantime, Charles and the count improved their acquaintance, Charles in his

Скачать книгу