"Ah, how thirsty I am!" he groaned.
Amedee went to the stove and got the pot of tea, and leaned over to help the unfortunate man drink it. Maurice looked at him with surprise. He recognized Amedee.
"You, Amedee!—where am I, then?"
He attempted in vain to rise. His head dropped slightly to the left, and he saw, not two steps from him, the lifeless body of his old colonel, with eyes closed and features already calmed by the first moments of perfect repose.
"My Colonel!" said he. "Ah! I understand—I remember-! How they ran away—miserable cowards! But you, Amedee? Why are you here—?"
His friend could not restrain his tears, and Maurice murmured:
"Done for, am I not?"
"No, no!" exclaimed Amedee, with animation. "They are going to dress your wounds at once—They will come soon! Courage, my good Maurice! Courage!"
Suddenly the wounded man had a terrible chill; his teeth chattered, and he said again:
"I am thirsty!—something to drink, my friend!—give me something to drink!"