"He has saved my life," said Gauvain. "Does any one here know him?"
"Commander," said a soldier, "he has but just arrived in town. I saw him coming from the direction of Pontorson."
The surgeon-in-chief of the division hurried up with his instrument-case.
The wounded man was still unconscious, but after examining him the surgeon said,—
"Oh, this is nothing but a simple cut. It can be sewed, and in eight days he will be on his feet again. That was a fine sabre-cut."
The wounded man wore a cloak and a tricolored belt, with pistols and a sabre. They placed him on a stretcher, and after undressing him, a bucket of water was brought, and the surgeon washed the wound. As the face began to appear, Gauvain studied it attentively.
"Has he any papers about him?" he asked.
The surgeon felt in his side pocket and drew out a pocket-book, which he handed to Gauvain.
Meanwhile the wounded man, revived by the cold water, was regaining his consciousness. His eyelids quivered slightly.
Gauvain was looking over the pocket-book, in which he discovered a sheet of paper folded four times; he opened it and read,—