“No, no,” muttered he, in a low, plaintive tone; “not all lost,—not all! La Vendee yet remains!” He was dreaming.
CHAPTER VII. THE ARMISTICE.
As I sat thus watching with steadfast gaze the features of the sleeping man, I heard the clattering of a horse's hoofs on the pavement beneath, and the next moment the heavy step of some one ascending the stairs. Suddenly the door was flung wide open, and an officer in the handsome uniform of the Austrian Imperial Guard entered.
“Excuse this scant ceremony, Monsieur,” said he, bowing with much courtesy, “but I almost despaired of finding you out. I come from Holitsch with despatches for your Emperor; they are most pressing, as I believe this note will inform you.”
While I threw my eye over the few lines addressed by General Savary to the officer in waiting at Holitsch, and commanding the utmost speed in forwarding the despatch that accompanied them, the officer drew near the bed where De Beauvais was lying.
“Mère de ciel, it is the count!” cried he, starting back with astonishment.
“Yes,” said I, interrupting him; “I found him here on my arrival. He is badly wounded, and should be removed at once. How can this be done?”
“Easily. I 'll despatch my orderly at once to Holitsch, and remain here till he return.”
“But if our troops advance?”