k six thousand prisoners. He
was there at the recapture of the Fort de Vaux which the Germans
evacuated in the first week of November. In the last rush up the slope,
where he had fought long ago, a stray shell, an inscrutable messenger
of fate, coming from far away, no one knows whence, caught him and
ripped him horribly across the body.

It was a desperate mass of wounds. But the men of his squad loved their
corporal. He still breathed. They saw to it that he was carried back to
the little transit hospital just behind the Fort de Souville.

It was a rude hut of logs, covered with sand-bags, on the slope of the
hill. The ruined woods around it were still falling to the crash of
far-thrown shells. In the close, dim shelter of the inner room Pierre
came to himself.

He looked up into the face of Father Courcy. A light of recognition and
gratitude flickered in his eyes. It was like finding an old friend in
the dark.

"Welcome!--But the fort?" he gasped.

"It is ours," said the priest.

Something like a smile passed over the face of Pierre. He could not
speak for a long time. The blood in his throat choked him. At last he
whispered:

"Tell Josephine--love."

Father Courcy bowed his head and took Pierre's hand. "Surely," he said.
"But now, my dear son Pierre, I must prepare you--"

The struggling voice from the cot broke in, whispering slowly, with
long intervals: "Not necessary. . . . I know it already. . . . The
penance. . . . France. . . . Jeanne d'Arc. . . . It is done."

A few drops of blood gushed from the corner of his mouth. The look of
peace that often comes to those who die of gunshot wounds settled on
his face. His eyes grew still as the priest laid the sacred wafer on
his lips. The broken soldier was made whole.

***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BROKEN SOLDIER AND THE MAID OF
FRANCE***

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