How could they take him? He would die on the road, and yet the veterinary surgeon had promised to cure him. The fate of the poor animal, rather resembling my own, touched my heart.
I promised to take care of Colaquet, and to put him into the stable every night. The good people thanked me, and we parted.
Seated on the curbstone near the principal entrance, I watched them till the whole party disappeared from my sight in the narrowing perspective of the road. I saw the last glance on the gun-barrels, I heard the grinding of the last wheel, and the dust of the highway swallowed them up in a cloud . . .
It was all over. I was alone. This thought has given me an unaccountable sensation of uneasiness.
