He told them that they were going to be sent into battle; he urged them to do their duty; reminded them of the high and sacred nature of their trust as soldiers of the Republic, and ended by warning them that the Catholic Church refuses Christian burial to him who deserts his flag. In the deep, battle-filled silence the priest raised up his hands; three regiments sank to their knees as a single man, and the Special Messenger and her prisoner knelt with them. "_Dominus noster Jesus Christus vos absolvat, et ego, auctoritate ipius, vos absolvo ab omvir vinculo_----" The thunder of the guns drowned the priest's voice for a moment, then it sounded again, firm and clear: "_Absolve vos a peccatis_----" The roar of battle blotted out the words; then again they rang out: "_In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti!... Amen._" The officers had remounted now, their horses plunging in the smoke; the flags were moving forward; rivers of bayonets flowed out into the maelstrom where the red lightning played incessantly. Then from their front crashed out the first volley of the Irish Brigade. "Forward! Forward!" shouted their officers. Men were falling everywhere; a dying horse kicked a whole file into confusion. Suddenly a shell fell in their midst, another, another, tearing fiery right of way. The Special Messenger, on her knees in the smoke, looked up and around as a priest bent above her. "Child," he said, "what are you doing here?" And then his worn gaze fell on the dead man who lay in the grass staring skyward through his broken eyeglasses with pleasant, sightless eyes. The Special Messenger, white to the lips, looked up: "We were on our knees together, Father Corby. You had said the amen, and the bullet struck him--here!... He had no chance for confession.... But you said----" Her voice failed. The priest looked at her; she took the dead man's right hand in hers. "He was a brave man, Father.... And you said--you said--about those who fell fighting for--their _own_ land--absolution--Christian burial----" She choked, set her teeth in her under lip and looked down at the dead. The priest knelt, too. "Is--is all well with him?" she whispered. "Surely, child----" "But--his was the--_other_ flag." There was a silence. "Father?" "I know--I know.... The banner of Christ is broader.... You say he was kneeling here beside you?" "Here--so close that I touched him.... And then you said.... Christian burial--absolution----" "He was a spy?" "What am I, Father?" "Absolved, child--like this poor boy, here at your feet.... What is that locket in your hand?" "His picture.... I found it in his house when the cavalry were setting fire to it.... Oh, I am tired of it all--deathly, deathly sick!... Look at him lying here! Father, Father, is there no end to death?"