I received a wound in our last skirmish; not a very severe one, but it put an end to my writing for some time." "Go on, dear Camille! go on." "The page ends there, madame." The paper was thin, and Camille, whose hand trembled, had some difficulty in detaching the leaves from one another.

He succeeded, however, at last, and went on reading and writhing.
"By the way, you must address your next letter to me as Colonel Raynal.
I was promoted just before this last affair, but had not time to tell you; and my wound stopped my writing till now." "There, there!" cried the baroness.

"He was Colonel Raynal, and Colonel Raynal was not killed." The doctor implored her not to interrupt.
"Go on, Camille.

Why do you hesitate?
what is the matter?
Do for pity's sake go on, sir." Camille cast a look of agony around, and put his hand to his brow, on which large drops of cold perspiration, like a death dew, were gathering; but driven to the stake on all sides, he gasped on rather than read, for his eye had gone down the page.
"A namesake of mine, Commandant Raynal,"-- "Ah!" "has not been--so fortunate.

He"-- "Go on! go on!" The wretched man could now scarcely utter Raynal's words; they came from him in a choking groan.
"he was killed, poor fellow! while heading a gallant charge upon the enemy's flank." He ground the letter convulsively in his hand, then it fell all crumpled on the floor.
"Bless you, Camille!" cried the baroness, "bless you! bless you! I have a son still." She stooped with difficulty, took up the letter, and, kissing it again and again, fell on her knees, and thanked Heaven aloud before them all.
Then she rose and went hastily out, and her voice was heard crying very loud, "Jacintha! Jacintha!" The doctor followed in considerable anxiety for the effects of this violent joy on so aged a person.