“Mamma, mamma, I am thirsty!  Mamma, bring me a drink of water—­”

The weak, faint voice was drowned in the roar of the conflagration; the cheering of the victors rose on the air in the distance.

But rising above all other sounds, dominating the universal clamor, a terrible cry was heard.  It was Henriette, who had reached the place at last, and now beheld her husband, backed up against the wall, facing a platoon of men who were loading their muskets.

She flew to him and threw her arms about his neck.

“My God! what is it!  They cannot be going to kill you!”

Weiss looked at her with stupid, unseeing eyes.  She! his wife, so long the object of his desire, so fondly idolized!  A great shudder passed through his frame and he awoke to consciousness of his situation.  What had he done? why had he remained there, firing at the enemy, instead of returning to her side, as he had promised he would do?  It all flashed upon him now, as the darkness is illuminated by the lightning’s glare:  he had wrecked their happiness, they were to be parted, forever parted.  Then he noticed the blood upon her forehead.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.  “You were mad to come—­”

She interrupted him with an impatient gesture.

“Never mind me; it is a mere scratch.  But you, you! why are you here?  They shall not kill you; I will not suffer it!”

The officer, who was endeavoring to clear the road in order to give the firing party the requisite room, came up on hearing the sound of voices, and beholding a woman with her arms about the neck of one of his prisoners, exclaimed loudly in French: 

“Come, come, none of this nonsense here!  Whence come you?  What is your business here?”

“Give me my husband.”

“What, is he your husband, that man?  His sentence is pronounced; the law must take its course.”

“Give me my husband.”

“Come, be rational.  Stand aside; we do not wish to harm you.”

“Give me my husband.”

Perceiving the futility of arguing with her, the officer was about to give orders to remove her forcibly from the doomed man’s arms when Laurent, who until then had maintained an impassive silence, ventured to interfere.

“See here, Captain, I am the man who killed so many of your men; go ahead and shoot me—­that will be all right, especially as I have neither chick nor child in all the world.  But this gentleman’s case is different; he is a married man, don’t you see.  Come, now, let him go; then you can settle my business as soon as you choose.”

Beside himself with anger, the captain screamed: 

“What is all this lingo?  Are you trying to make game of me?  Come, step out here, some one of you fellows, and take away this woman!”

He had to repeat his order in German, whereon a soldier came forward from the ranks, a short stocky Bavarian, with an enormous head surrounded by a bristling forest of red hair and beard, beneath which all that was to be seen were a pair of big blue eyes and a massive nose.  He was besmeared with blood, a hideous spectacle, like nothing so much as some fierce, hairy denizen of the woods, emerging from his cavern and licking his chops, still red with the gore of the victims whose bones he has been crunching.