Striking a light, I found that the
packet was addressed to the Governor. A serious thought disturbed
me: I could not get into the town through the gates without the
countersign. I rode on, anxious and perplexed.
Presently a thought pulled me up. The courier was insensible
when I left him, and he was the only one who could help me in this.
I greatly reproached myself for leaving him while he was still
alive. "Poor devil," thought I to myself, "there is some one whom
his death will hurt. He must not die alone. He was no enemy of
mine." I went back, and, getting from the horse, stooped to him,
lifted up his head, and found that he was not dead. I spoke in his
ear. He moaned, and his eyes opened.
"What is your name?" said I.
"Jean--Labrouk," he whispered.
Now I remembered him. He was the soldier whom Gabord had sent as
messenger to Voban the night I was first taken to the citadel.
"Shall I carry word for you to any one?" asked I.
There was a slight pause; then he said, "Tell my--Babette--Jacques
Dobrotte owes me ten francs--and--a leg--of mutton. Tell--my
Babette--to give my coat of beaver fur to Gabord the soldier.
Tell"...he sank back, but raised himself, and continued: "Tell my
Babette I weep with her.
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