CHAPTER XXVIII. A FAMILIAR FACE.
Leon made the best of his way across the parade-ground, and threw himself helplessly down upon the steps of a warehouse. He was so ill, and so utterly discouraged, that he almost wished he might die then and there, and so bring his sufferings to an end.
He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, looking the very picture of misery.
His gaze being directed toward the gate through which he had entered the day before, he did not fail to see the neatly dressed young civilian who walked briskly up the hill and stopped to speak to the sentry.
At the sight of him Leon started up, and even attempted to get upon his feet; but he was so weak that he fell back upon the steps again.
"I thought at first it was Oscar Preston," said he. "He looks like him, walks like him, and dresses like him. How much good the sight of one familiar face would do me! I wish I was at Oscar's side this minute. I tell you, it wouldn't take me long to get home!"
"Corporal of the guard number seven!" shouted the sentry.
As Leon wearily raised his head he saw the corporal come out of the barracks in response to the call and hasten toward the gate. He exchanged a few words with the visitor, after which he conducted him along the path toward where Leon was sitting.