“Yes, you may quite well have given him the sacrament,” said M. Gilbert; “but what did he have to say in the matter?” “I’m sure I don’t know what he could say,” interrupted Augustus, “when, as you know, for the last ten days he has been quite delirious.” “That’s true,” remarked M. Gilbert. “What have you got to say to that, Bénezech?” “I don’t know what to think, Doctor; but I can’t believe that a young man as well educated as Lieutenant Limberg was not a Catholic. He took the sacrament twice with me.” “That may be; but did he tell you he was a Catholic?” “But, Doctor, how could I insult him by asking him, especially when he was in such a sad state. Besides, he came here wearing crosses on his neck. I gave him several myself, which he willingly took.” “Evidently there is something wrong,” said M. Gilbert. “You tell me that Limberg was a Catholic; well, we have just been told that he was Jewish. You had better send first for the rabbi of the division. Then, to make sure, send me a despatch-rider from Limberg’s battalion. We shall find out from them.” Bénezech went out, raising his hands several times, his fingers spread apart, looking perplexed. “Let’s go to the mortuary tent,” said M. Gilbert, getting up from the table. It was a disused tent where coffins were placed on biers ready for burial services. Wrapped in an old flag, Limberg’s coffin had been placed on two boxes. A ray of sunlight broke obliquely across the shadow, revealing a glittering swarm of mosquitos. Some hens were pecking at the fine gravel. This place of death seemed like a haven of rest on the edge of the tempest of war. An orderly came in, placed two candles on the table, lit them, and stood a crucifix between them. “Damn!” muttered M. Gilbert between his teeth; “it’s very tiresome, all this fuss.” As we were coming out of the place, we saw Bénezech and the despatch-rider. Bénezech’s beard seemed to bristle with triumph. With his fingers on his _képi_, he saluted as if he were pronouncing the benediction, and he said in a celestial voice: “Information from the battalion, Doctor: Lieutenant Limberg was a Catholic.” “Confound it all!” cried the doctor. “Have you a written note?” “No,” replied the cyclist. “The officers only discussed the matter among themselves, and they said he was a Catholic. You will see them yourself presently: they are coming to the funeral with the infantry platoon.” M. Gilbert stamped on the ground. He was very red, and the unruly movements of his nose showed that a decision was about to be made. “Can I get ready for the service?” asked Bénezech, with the innocent and measured tone of a man who does not press home his victory. “What!” said M. Gilbert. “The service? As you please--get ready as much as you like. I have my own idea now.” Our devoted Augustus, who had left us for a few minutes, came back with a packet of envelopes.