THE AMERICAN
"I unite with you in having been chosen for that sad honour," said the gentleman. "I had placed myself at M. de Bellegarde's service in this melancholy affair, together with M. de Grosjoyaux, who is now at his bedside. M. de Grosjoyaux, I believe, has had the honour of meeting you in Paris, but as he is a better nurse than I, he remained with our poor friend. Bellegarde has been eagerly expecting you."
"And how is the rascal?" said Newman. "He was badly hit?"
"The doctor has condemned him; we brought a surgeon with us. But he will die in the best sentiments. I sent last evening for the curé of the nearest French village, who spent an hour with him. The curé was quite satisfied."
"Heaven forgive us!" groaned Newman. "I 'd rather the surgeon were so! And can he see me—shall he know me?"
"When I left him, half an hour ago, he had fallen asleep—after a feverish, wakeful night. But we shall see." And this companion proceeded to lead the way out of the station to the village, explaining as he went that the little party was lodged in the humblest of Swiss inns, where, however, they had succeeded in making M. de Bellegarde much more comfortable than could at first have been expected. "We're old companions-in-arms," the personage said; "it's not the first time one of us has helped the other to lie easy. It's a very nasty wound, and the nastiest thing about it is that Valentin's adversary was no shot. He put his beastly bullet where he
381
