"Ah! is that you, old Rochart?"
"Yes, that's me; but I don't want any one to meddle with me; I'd rather stay as I am."
The doctor, taking up a candle, looked at him, and made a wry face.
"It's time you were seen to, my poor old fellow; you've lost a deal of blood already, and if we wait much longer it will be too late."
"So much the better; I've suffered enough in my time."
"Just as you will: let's go to the next." He looked down a long row of mattrasses at the bottom of the room; the two last were empty, though soaked in blood. Materne and Kasper laid the old wood-cutter on one, whilst Despois approached another of the wounded, saying:
"Nicolas, it's your turn now."
They then saw the tall form of Nicolas Cerf raise itself up, with a face deadly pale, and eyes glistening with fear.
"Give him a glass of brandy," said the doctor.