The guards came up, and the doctor was sent for. They were both removed to the prison hospital. But there was nothing to be done for Malin. His gross habit of body, from years of dissipation, made his many wounds fatal. He died the next day. The good chaplain visited him—but he was insensible.
Poivre remained some time in hospital, and listened respectfully to the bishop; but
when he came out he was received as a hero, and that soon drowned reflection. So hard is it to turn to God one who has for years forsaken Him. It is not impossible, and there is good reason for saying so; but it is not probable, for experience teaches us that such is the case.
* * * * *
There was a young man in hospital at the same time as Poivre, in an advanced stage of consumption. Nature had never intended him to be a soldier. He was a sturdy, well-made, good-looking young fellow, but with the hidden seeds of that fell disease in his constitution which only waited development. Had he been let alone in his little heritage in the sunny south of France, he might have lived happily to at least a fair age: but conscription, mercilessly enforced, not for defence of country, but to gratify the satanic ambition of one man, seized upon him, and he became a soldier, sorely against his will, in one of the armies of the Peninsula.
It is always a marvel how men could stand the wear and tear of those seven years of incessant warfare in that country. Yet the veteran soldiers of France and England did stand it, and many lived to tell the tale in after years to their children in quiet resting-places. But how many, who survived, came home when all was over to suffer to their dying day the effects of over-taxed energies?
Such was the case, though taken prisoner some time before all was over, with Gaspard Berthier, who now lay broken-down in the prison hospital at Norman Cross.
Marc Poivre was a rough comforter to him. Their berths were near each other, and as Poivre was somewhat softened at first, he deigned to notice the poor young fellow.
“That cough of yours, Gaspard,” said he, “is very bad.”
“I fear it annoys you,” replied the other. “I am very sorry, but I cannot help it. I wish I could, for my sake as well as others!”