"An officer of the queen's dragoons!" he ejaculated, and in the next
moment he was by his side. He knelt down, and placed his hand
inquiringly on the heart and forehead of the prostrate officer.
"He is warm still," he murmured, "and it seems to me his heart is yet
beating. Perhaps, perhaps he only fainted from loss of blood, just as I
did before my wounds had been dressed. Let us see."
He hastily drew a flask from his bosom, and pouring some of its contents
into his hand, he washed with it the forehead and temples of his poor
comrade.
A slight shudder now pervaded his whole frame, and he looked with a
half-unconscious, dreamy glance into the face of the stranger, who had
bent over him with an air of heart-felt sympathy.
"Where am I?" he asked, in a low, tremulous voice.
"With a comrade," said the other, kindly. "With a companion in
misfortune who is wounded, and a fugitive like you. I am an officer of
the Hohenlohe regiment, and fought at Jena. Since last night I have been
wandering about, constantly exposed to the danger of falling into the
hands of the enemy. My name is Pueckler--it is a good Prussian name. You
see, therefore, it is a friend who is assisting his poor comrade, and
you need not fear any thing. Now, tell me what I can do for you?"
"Water, water!" groaned the wounded officer, "water!"
"You had better take some of my wine here," said the other; "it will
quench your thirst, and invigorate you at the same time.
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