Early on the morning after Foret's departure for Clisson, the litter
which bore the wounded chief reached the hospital, and Agatha's arm
assisted him from the door-step to the death-bed, which she had prepared
for him. Agatha's feelings towards him have been imperfectly described;
but what were his feelings towards her? What was the nature of the
mysterious love, which no kind words had ever encouraged, which no look
had ever declared, which he had hardly dared to acknowledge to his own
heart, and which had yet induced the wounded man to make so painful a
journey, to travel over twenty long, long leagues, that he might once
more see the glorious face which had filled his breast with such an
unutterable passion? Not for a moment had he ever dreamt that Agatha
regarded him differently than she did the many others who had taken up
arms in the service of their country. His name he knew must be familiar
to her ears, for chance had made it prominent in the struggle; but
beyond that, it had never occurred to his humble mind that Agatha
Larochejaquelin had given one thought to the postillion of St.
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