The poor corporal, too weak to resist us, faint from bleeding and semi-stupid, suffered himself to be lifted upon the cloak, and never uttered a word or a cry as we bore him along between us.
We had not proceeded far when we came up with a convoy, conducting several carts with the wounded to the convent of Reygern, which had now been fitted up as an hospital. On one of these we secured a place for our poor friend, and walked along beside him towards the convent. As we went along I questioned his comrade closely on the point; and he told me that Pioche had resolved never to survive the battle, and had taken leave of his friends the evening before.
“Ah, parbleu!” added he, with energy, “mademoiselle is pretty enough,—there 's no denying that; but her head is turned by flattery and soft speeches. All the gay young fellows of the hussar regiment, the aides-de-camp,—ay, and some of the generals, too,—have paid her so much attention that it could not be expected she'd care for a poor corporal. Not but that Pioche is a brave fellow and a fine soldier. Sapristi! he 'd be no discredit to any girl's choice. But Minette—”
“Minette, the vivandière?”
“Ay, to be sure, mon lieutenant; I'd warrant you must have known her.”
“What of her? where is she?” said I, burning with impatience.
“She's with the wounded, up at Reygern yonder. They sent for her to Heilbrunn yesterday, where she was with the reserve battalions. Ma foi! you don't think our fellows would do without Minette at the ambulance, where there was a battle to be fought. They say they'd hard work enough to make her come up. After all, she's a strange girl; that she is.”
“How was that? Has she taken offence with the Fourth?”
“No, that is not it; she likes the old regiment in her heart. I'd never believe she didn't; but” (here he dropped his voice to a low whisper, as if dreading to be overheard by the wounded man), “but they say—who knows if it's true?—that when she was left behind at Ulm or Elchingen, or somewhere up there on the Danube, that there was a young fellow—I heard his name, too, but I forget it—who was brought in badly wounded, and that mademoiselle was left to watch and nurse him. He got well in time, for the thing was not so serious as they thought. And what do you think was the return he made the poor girl? He seduced her!”
“It's false! false as hell!” cried I, bursting with passion. “Who has dared to spread such a calumny?”