"Mon Dieu! what is that?" exclaimed Ambroisine, stopping abruptly; "I believe that it is a man there—lying on the ground."
"Yes, you are right; perhaps he is asleep; perhaps he is drunk.—Wait, while I ascertain."
Jarnonville released Ambroisine's arm, walked nearer to the body that lay there absolutely inert, and stooped over it. In a moment he cried out:
"Ah! the poor fellow is bathed in his own blood!"
"See that sword yonder—perhaps there has been a duel."
"If I could raise his head; but his hair has fallen over his face and conceals it.—Mon Dieu! is this a delusion?"
"What is it, chevalier?"
"For heaven's sake, stand aside a little, so that the light may shine on this unfortunate man—yes, it is he! it is surely he!"
"Who, in God's name?"
"Léodgard!"