The Monk.
Two men lay prone upon the ground, one bathed in blood and motionless, with his face toward the earth; this one was dead. The other leaned against a tree, supported there by the two valets, and was praying fervently, with clasped hands and eyes raised to Heaven. He had received a ball in his thigh, which had broken the bone. The young men first approached the dead man.
"He is a priest," said Bragelonne, "he has worn the tonsure.
Oh, the scoundrels! to lift their hands against a minister of God."
"Come here, sir," said Urban, an old soldier who had served under the cardinal duke in all his campaigns; "come here, there is nothing to be done with him, whilst we may perhaps be able to save the other."
The wounded man smiled sadly. "Save me! Oh, no!" said he, "but help me to die, if you can."
"Are you a priest?" asked Raoul.
"No sir."
"I ask, as your unfortunate companion appeared to me to belong to the church."
"He is the curate of Bethune, sir, and was carrying the holy vessels belonging to his church, and the treasure of the chapter, to a safe place, the prince having abandoned our town yesterday; and as it was known that bands of the enemy were prowling about the country, no one dared to accompany the good man, so I offered to do so.
"And, sir," continued the wounded man, "I suffer much and would like, if possible, to be carried to some house."
"Where you can be relieved?" asked De Guiche.
"No, where I can confess."
"But perhaps you are not so dangerously wounded as you think," said Raoul.
"Sir," replied the wounded man, "believe me, there is no time to lose; the ball has broken the thigh bone and entered the intestines."
"Are you a surgeon?" asked De Guiche.
"No, but I know a little about wounds, and mine, I know, is mortal. Try, therefore, either to carry me to some place where I may see a priest or take the trouble to send one to me here. It is my soul that must be saved; as for my body, it is lost."
"To die whilst doing a good deed! It is impossible. God will help you."
"Gentlemen, in the name of Heaven!" said the wounded man, collecting all his forces, as if to get up, "let us not lose time in useless words. Either help me to gain the nearest village or swear to me on your salvation that you will send me the first monk, the first cure, the first priest you may meet. But," he added in a despairing tone, "perhaps no one will dare to come for it is known that the Spaniards are ranging through the country, and I shall die without absolution. My God! my God! Good God! good God!" added the wounded man, in an accent of terror which made the young men shudder; "you will not allow that? that would be too terrible!"
"Calm yourself, sir," replied De Guiche. "I swear to you, you shall receive the consolation that you ask. Only tell us where we shall find a house at which we can demand aid and a village from which we can fetch a priest."
"Thank you, and God reward you! About half a mile from this, on the same road, there is an inn, and about a mile further on, after leaving the inn, you will reach the village of Greney. There you must find the curate, or if he is not at home, go to the convent of the Augustines, which is the last house on the right, and bring me one of the brothers. Monk or priest, it matters not, provided only that he has received from holy church the power of absolving in articulo mortis."
"Monsieur d'Arminges," said De Guiche, "remain beside this unfortunate man and see that he is removed as gently as possible. The vicomte and myself will go and find a priest."
"Go, sir," replied the tutor; "but in Heaven's name do not expose yourself to danger!"
"Do not fear. Besides, we are safe for to-day; you know the axiom, `Non bis in idem.'"
"Courage, sir," said Raoul to the wounded man. "We are going to execute your wishes."
"May Heaven prosper you!" replied the dying man, with an accent of gratitude impossible to describe.
The two young men galloped off in the direction mentioned and in ten minutes reached the inn. Raoul, without dismounting, called to the host and announced that a wounded man was about to be brought to his house and begged him in the meantime to prepare everything needful. He desired him also, should he know in the neighborhood any doctor or chirurgeon, to fetch him, taking on himself the payment of the messenger.
The host, who saw two young noblemen, richly clad, promised everything they required, and our two cavaliers, after seeing that preparations for the reception were actually begun, started off again and proceeded rapidly toward Greney.
They had gone rather more than a league and had begun to descry the first houses of the village, the red-tiled roofs of which stood out from the green trees which surrounded them, when, coming toward them mounted on a mule, they perceived a poor monk, whose large hat and gray worsted dress made them take him for an Augustine brother. Chance for once seemed to favor them in sending what they were so assiduously seeking. He was a man about twenty-two or twenty-three years old, but who appeared much older from ascetic exercises. His complexion was pale, not of that deadly pallor which is a kind of neutral beauty, but of a bilious, yellow hue; his colorless hair was short and scarcely extended beyond the circle formed by the hat around his head, and his light blue eyes seemed destitute of any expression.
"Sir," began Raoul, with his usual politeness, "are you an ecclesiastic?"
"Why do you ask me that?" replied the stranger, with a coolness which was barely civil.
"Because we want to know," said De Guiche, haughtily.
The stranger touched his mule with his heel and continued his way.
In a second De Guiche had sprung before him and barred his passage. "Answer, sir," exclaimed he; "you have been asked politely, and every question is worth an answer."
"I suppose I am free to say or not to say who I am to two strangers who take a fancy to ask me."
It was with difficulty that De Guiche restrained the intense desire he had of breaking the monk's bones.
