his leg from under the animal, and
in a second he was on his feet again.

"Nothing broken?" asked De Guiche.

"Faith, no, thank Heaven!" replied Raoul; "but what has become of the
poor wretches whom these scoundrels were murdering?"

"I fear we arrived too late. They have killed them, I think, and taken
flight, carrying off their booty. My servants are examining the bodies."

"Let us go and see whether they are quite dead, or if they can still be
helped," suggested Raoul. "Olivain, we have come into possession of two
horses, but I have lost my own. Take for yourself the better of the two
and give me yours."

They approached the spot where the unfortunate victims lay.

31. The Monk.

Two men lay prone upon the ground, one bathed in blood and motionless,
with his face toward the earth; this one was dead. The other leaned
against a tree, supported there by the two valets, and was praying
fervently, with clasped hands and eyes raised to Heaven. He had received
a ball in his thigh, which had broken the bone. The young men first
approached the dead man.

"He is a priest," said Bragelonne, "he has worn the tonsure. Oh, the
scoundrels! to lift their hands against a minister of God."

"Come here, sir," said Urban, an old soldier who had served under the
cardinal duke in all his campaigns; "come here, there is nothing to be
done with him, whilst we may perhaps be able to save the other."

The wounded man smiled sadly. "Save me! Oh, no!" said he, "but help me
to die, if you can."

"Are you a priest?" asked Raoul.

"No sir."

"I ask, as your unfortunate companion appeared to me to belong to the
church."

"He is the curate of Bethune, sir, and was carrying the holy vessels
belonging to his church, and the treasure of the chapter, to a safe
place, the prince having abandoned our town yesterday; and as it was
known that bands of the enemy were prowling about the country, no one
dared to accompany the good man, so I offered to do so.

"And, sir," continued the wounded man, "I suffer much and would like, if
possible, to be carried to some house."

"Where you can be relieved?" asked De Guiche.

"No, where I can confess."

"But perhaps you are not so dangerously wounded as you think," said
Raoul.

"Sir," replied the wounded man, "believe me, there is no time to lose;
the ball has broken the thigh bone and entered the intestines."

"Are you a surgeon?" asked De Guiche.

"No, but I know a little about w