“Yes, the first shot just touched my leg, but the fellow aimed too low. The second he fired haphazard. I fancy, though, that he has a bullet from my revolver in his body.”
“But I heard some one running away,” I said.
“Oh,” replied the elegant captain, chuckling, “he will not go far!”
“Poor wretch!” I murmured.
“Oh, no!” exclaimed O’Connor, “do not pity them, I beg. They kill numbers of our men every day; only yesterday five soldiers from my regiment were found on the Versailles road, not only killed, but mutilated,” and, gnashing his teeth, he finished his sentence with an oath.
I turned toward him rather surprised, but he took no notice. We continued our way, riding as quickly as the obstacles in the forest would allow us. All at once, our horses stopped short, snorting and sniffing. O’Connor took his revolver in his hand, got off and led his horse. A few yards from us there was a man lying on the ground. “That must be my wretch of just now,” said my companion and, bending down over the man, he spoke to him. A moan was the only reply. O’Connor had not seen his man, so he could not have recognized him. He lighted a match, and we saw that this one had no gun. I had dismounted and was trying to raise the unfortunate man’s head, but I withdrew my hand covered with blood. He had opened his eyes and fixed them on O’Connor.
SARAH BERNHARDT IN RIDING HABIT.
“Ah, it’s you, Versailles dog!” he said. “It was you who shot me! I missed you, but—” He tried to pull out the revolver from his belt, but the effort was too great, and his hand fell down inert. O’Connor, on his side, had cocked his revolver, but I placed myself in front of the man and besought him to leave the poor fellow in peace. I could scarcely recognize my friend, for this nice-looking, fair-haired man, so correct, rather a snob, but very charming, seemed to have turned into a brute. Leaning forward toward the unfortunate man, his under jaw advancing, he was muttering under his teeth some inarticulate words; his clenched hand seemed to be grasping his anger, just as one does an anonymous letter, before flinging it away in disgust.
“O’Connor, let this man alone, please!” I said.