“Vive l'Empereur! vive l'Empereur!” shouted he, madly, as he lifted his helmet and tried to wave it above his head. But the exertion brought on a violent fit of coughing, which choked his utterance, while a torrent of red blood gushed from his mouth, and deluged his neck and chest. “Ah, _mon Dieu!_ that cry has been his death,” said the other, wringing his hands in utter misery. “Where is he wounded?” said I, kneeling down beside the sick man, who now lay, half on his face, upon the grass. “In the chest, through the lung,” whispered the other. “He doesn't know the doctor saw him; it was he told me there was no hope. 'You may leave him,' said he; 'an hour or two more are all that 's left him;' as if I could leave a comrade we all loved. My poor fellow, it is a sad day for the old Fourth when thou art taken from them!” “Ha! was he of the Fourth, then?” said I, remembering the regiment. “Yes, _parbleu!_ and though but a corporal, he was well known throughout the army. Pioche--” “Pioche!” cried I, in agony; “is this Pioche?” “Here,” said the wounded man, hearing the name, and answering as if on parade,--“here, mon commandant! but too faint, I 'm afraid, for duty. I feel weak to-day,” said he, as he pressed his hand upon his side, and then slowly sank back against the rock, and dropped his arms at either side. “Come,” said I, “we must lose no time. Let us carry him to the rear. If nothing else can be done, he 'll meet with care--” “Hush! mon lieutenant! don't let him hear you speak of that. He stormed and swore so much when the ambulance passed, and they wanted to bring him along, that it brought on a coughing fit, just like what you saw, and he lay in a faint for half an hour after. He vows he 'll never stir from where he is. Truth is, Commandant,” said he, in the lowest whisper, “he is determined to die. When his squadron fell back from the Russian square, he rode on their bayonets, and cut at the men while the artillery was playing all about him. He told me this morning he 'd never leave the field.” “Poor fellow! what was the meaning of this sad resolution?” “_Ma foi!_ a mere trifle, after all,” said the other, shrugging his shoulders, and making a true French grimace of contempt. “You 'll smile when I tell you; but he takes it to heart, poor fellow. His mistress has been false to him,--no great matter that, you 'd say,--but so it is, and nothing more. See how still he lies now! is he sleeping?” “I fear not; he looks exhausted from loss of blood. Come, we must have him out of this; here comes my orderly to assist us. If we carry him to the road I 'll find a carriage of some sort.” I said this in a tone of command, to silence any scruples he might still have about obeying his comrade in preference to the orders of an officer. He obeyed with the instinct of discipline, and proceeded to fold his cloak in such a manner that we could carry the wounded man between us.