positions, and M. le Duc had ordered the white flag to be planted
upon the culminating point of the little mountain. It was then we had
time to think of M. de Bragelonne, who had eight large wounds through
his body, by which almost all his blood had escaped. Still, however, he
breathed, which afforded inexpressible joy to monseigneur, who insisted
upon being present at the first dressing of the wounds and at the
consultation of the surgeons. There were two among them who declared M.
de Bragelonne would live. Monseigneur threw his arms round their necks,
and promised them a thousand louis each if they could save him.

"The vicomte heard these transports of joy, and whether he was in
despair, or whether he suffered much from his wounds, he expressed by
his countenance a contradiction, which gave rise to reflection,
particularly in one of the secretaries when he had heard what follows.
The third surgeon was the brother of Sylvain de Saint-Cosme, the most
learned of ours. He probed the wounds in his turn, and said nothing. M.
de Bragelonne fixed his eyes steadily upon the skillful surgeon, and
seemed to interrogate his every movement. The latter, upon being
questioned by monseigneur, replied that he saw plainly three mortal
wounds out of eight, but so strong was the constitution of the wounded,
so rich was he in youth, and so merciful was the goodness of God, that
perhaps M. de Bragelonne might recover, particularly if he did not move
in the slightest manner. Frere Sylvain added, turning toward his
assistants, 'Above everything, do not allow him to move even a finger,
or you will kill him;' and we all left the tent in very low spirits.
That secretary I have mentioned, on leaving the tent, thought he
perceived a faint and sad smile glide over the lips of M. de Bragelonne
when the duc said to him, in a cheerful, kind voice, 'We shall save you,
vicomte, we shall save you!'

"In the evening, when it was believed the wounded young man had taken
some repose, one of the assistants entered his tent, but rushed
immediately out again, uttering loud cries. We all ran up in disorder,
M. le Duc with us, and the assistant pointed to the body of M. de
Bragelonne upon the ground, at the foot of his bed, bathed in the
remainder of his blood. It appeared that he had had some convulsion,
some febrile movement, and that he had fallen; that the fall had
accelerated his end, according to the prognostic of Frere Sylvain. We
raised the vicomte; h