Colonel Rosenthal lifted his hand, and silently waved these men away. And all retired except Adjutant Wing. “I am very sorry for this, Corsoni, very, very sorry,” said Justin compassionately. The Free Sword looked up. His youthful face seemed suddenly to have grown old and haggard with unutterable woe. Then he gently laid down the form of his wife, and struggled to his feet, and put his hand to his side for the sword that was no longer there. He looked about to find and deliver it to his captor. As he did so, the blood suddenly gushed in torrents from an unsuspected wound in his breast, and his face became livid. “You are hurt, Corsoni,” said Justin, in a pitiful voice. “Am I? I didn’t know,” answered the Free Sword, as he reeled and fell beside the body of his wife—DEAD. CHAPTER XXV. AFTER THE BATTLE. Oh, womanly she prayed in tent, When none beside did wake! Oh, womanly she paled in fight For one beloved’s sake! And her little hand defiled with blood, Her tender tears of womanhood Most woman-pure did make.—E. B. BROWNING. Adjutant Wing knelt down beside the dead and took two fresh white pocket-handkerchiefs from his bosom—Adjutant Wing was rather dainty for a soldier, in some of his habits, and constantly exposed himself to the raillery of his companions by his weakness for clean linen. He now covered with the handkerchiefs the poor dead faces, and, still kneeling, gazed upon the two bodies, while great tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. “You are weeping, Wing,” said Colonel Rosenthal, kindly. “I cannot—cannot help it,” said the boy, sobbing aloud. “When I look at these two, and remember that they were kind to me, and that I betrayed them to this death, I cannot help it. Oh, my Colonel, I have shed some bitter tears in my life. But these are the bitterest that ever fell from my eyes!” “Wing, what you did was done as a sacred duty in the service of your country.” “Yes, I know; but the duty was very revolting to me. Once I said that nothing on earth could ever induce me to become a spy; but that was before the war, and I was in no condition to judge of the matter.” As Wing sobbed forth these words Colonel Rosenthal started and looked at him wistfully for a minute; then, seemingly satisfied by the scrutiny, he said: “Our military duties are often revolting to us, my boy; but still they are _duties_—_sacred duties_—and must be performed. I suppose the judge who pronounces a sentence of death, and the sheriff who executes it, both feel their duty to be a painful one; but they do it. I am sorry for these people, Wing—very, very sorry for them; but—they were traitors.”