608 Les Miserables
When he had arrived at this stage of succor which he
was administering to this dying man, the officer opened his
eyes.
‘Thanks,’ he said feebly.
The abruptness of the movements of the man who was
manipulating him, the freshness of the night, the air which
he could inhale freely, had roused him from his lethargy.
The prowler made no reply. He raised his head. A sound
of footsteps was audible in the plain; some patrol was prob-
ably approaching.
The officer murmured, for the death agony was still in
his voice:—
‘Who won the battle?’
‘The English,’ answered the prowler.
The officer went on:—
‘Look in my pockets; you will find a watch and a purse.
Take them.’
It was already done.
The prowler executed the required feint, and said:—
‘There is nothing there.’
‘I have been robbed,’ said the officer; ‘I am sorry for that.
You should have had them.’
The steps of the patrol became more and more distinct.
‘Some one is coming,’ said the prowler, with the move-
ment of a man who is taking his departure.
The officer raised his arm feebly, and detained him.
‘You have saved my life. Who are you?’
The prowler answered rapidly, and in a low voice:—
‘Like yourself, I belonged to the French army. I must