So absorbed had I been in my comrade's words and intent on his
advice that he had crept up without my observing him. Now I
sprang to my feet and faced him. He was a tall, dark fellow,
black-haired, black-eyed, black-bearded, with a long, sad face.
In his hand he had a wine-bottle and over his shoulder was slung
one of the trabucos or blunderbusses which these fellows bear.
He made no effort to unsling it, and I understood that this was
the man to whom my dead friend had commended me.
"Alas, he is gone!" said he, bending over Duplessis.
"He fled into the wood after he was shot, but I was fortunate
enough to find where he had fallen and to make his last hours
more easy. This couch was my making, and I had brought this wine
to slake his thirst."
"Sir," said I, "in the name of France I thank you. I am but a
colonel of light cavalry, but I am Etienne Gerard, and the name
stands for something in the French army. May I ask----"
"Yes, sir, I am Aloysius de Pombal, younger brother of the famous
nobleman of that name.
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