“Thanks—for France. And now, my beloved, go! Be a hero. But stay, wear this for my sake.”
And she pinned very securely upon the left side of his hat, a cockade, and they embraced once more, and he left the room, leaving her in a swoon.
“Poor thing!” said he to himself, as he took one last look at her, curled up gracefully on the floor, “shall I leave her thus? Yes; she could not endure a second parting.”
And he went. Then she immediately got up and inventoried his property, and put the order for his money in her bosom, which all French women do, though I can’t say that that is a very safe place—in France. And she was pleased to find that his jewelry, though not extensive, was all genuine, and she said her prayers and went to bed, with the calmness of one who had done her whole duty.
The next day the assault was made and things worked about as Therese had calculated. Adolph had but one objective point and that was the man with a cockade, and Henri carried a carbine for the fellow with the red bow. They saw each other at precisely the same moment, both fired the same moment, and both fell mortally wounded. Having each noticed a peculiar mark upon the other’s hat they used what life was left in them to crawl to each other.
THE END OF THE ROMANCE.
“Who put that ribbon in your cap?” gasped Henri.
“Therese! And who that cockade in yours?”
“Therese! And she took my effects?”
“And mine. Perfide! But we die for France all the same?”