He did not finish the sentence. Steel met steel; the sparks flew from the quivering blades. The Frenchman was a very skilful swordsman, Jack equally so. Jack at last with an adroit parry sent the sword from his adversary's hand.
"JACK QUICKLY DISMOUNTED, AND KNELT BY HIS SIDE."
Jack was stooping to pick up the weapon when a stray shot hit the Frenchman in the breast. He fell with a groan from his horse. Jack quickly dismounted, and knelt by his side.
"Ah, Monsieur, it is very good of you," he gasped, as Jack raised his head; "it is very, very good of you; but I am dying. The fortune of love was with me; the fortune of war is with you."
Jack strove to staunch the blood that was gushing from the wound, but in vain. The wound was a mortal one.
"It is useless," gasped the Frenchman. "Nothing can be done, and I would rather die than be a prisoner. You are my enemy, but you are a gentleman. One thing I would ask you. Minnie—Mdlle. Denton—is to be buried to-morrow, Bury us in one grave. It is all I ask."
Jack promised. He felt a great pressure from the hand resting within his; then the head fell back in his arms. A brave soldier had fought his last battle.
Simultaneously there rose on the air a great shout. It was the shout of the conquering army announcing that the battle of Waterloo had been fought and won.