ry awoke others, and groans and shrieks
arose on all sides. The wounded thought succor was coming, and all who
could cried piteously. These cries lasted some time; then all was
silent, and I only heard a horse neigh painfully on the other side of
the hedge. The poor animal tried to rise, and I saw its head and long
neck appear; then it fell again to the earth.

The effort I made reopened my wound, and again I felt the blood running
down my arm. I closed my eyes to die, and the scenes of my early
childhood, of my native village, the face of my poor mother as she sang
me to sleep, my little room, with its alcove, our old dog Pommer with
whom I used to play and roll over and over on the ground; my father as
he came home gayly in the evening, his axe on his shoulder, and took me
up in his strong arms to embrace me--all rose dreamily before me.

How little those parents thought that they were rearing their boy to
die miserably far from friends, and home, and succor! How great would
have been their desolation--what maledictions would they have poured on
those who reduced him to such a state! Ah! if they were but there!--if
I could have asked their forgiveness for all the pain I had given them!
As these thoughts rushed over me the tears rolled down my cheeks; my
heart heaved: I sobbed like a child.

Then Catharine, Aunt Gredel, and Monsieur Goulden passed before me. I
saw their grief and fear when the news of the battle came. Aunt Gredel
running to the post-office every day to learn something of me, and
Catharine prayerfully awaiting her return, while Monsieur Goulden read
in the gazette how the Third corps suffered more heavily than the
others, as he paced the room with drooping head and at last sat
dreamily at his work-bench. My heart was with them; it followed Aunt
Gredel to the post-office, and returned with her all sadly to the
village, and there it saw Catharine in her despairing grief.

Then the postman Roedig seemed to arrive at Quatre-Vents. He opened
his leathern sack, and handed a large paper to Aunt Gredel, while
Catharine stood pale as death beside her. It was the official notice
of my death: I heard Catharine's heart-rending cries as she fell
swooning to the ground, and Aunt Gredel's maledictions, as, with her
gray hair streaming about her head, she cried that justice was no
longer to be found--that it were better that we had never been born,
since even God seemed to have abandoned us. Good Father