Passing from cot to cot, recognizing in the faces now drawn with agony, or staring in vacant unconsciousness, the features that he had seen only a few hours before flushed with enthusiasm and excitement, something of his old doubting, questioning nature returned.

Was there no way but this?
How far was HE--moving among them unscathed and uninjured--responsible?
And if not he--who then?
His mind went back bitterly to the old days of the conspiracy--to the inception of that struggle which was bearing such ghastly fruit.

He thought of his traitorous wife, until he felt his cheeks tingle, and he was fain to avert his eyes from those of his prostrate comrades, in a strange fear that, with the clairvoyance of dying men, they should read his secret.
It was past midnight when, without undressing, he threw himself upon his bed in the little convent-like cell to snatch a few moments of sleep.
Its spotless, peaceful walls and draperies affected him strangely, as if he had brought into its immaculate serenity the sanguine stain of war.
He was awakened suddenly from a deep slumber by an indefinite sense of alarm.

His first thought was that he had been summoned to repel an attack.

He sat up and listened; everything was silent except the measured tread of the sentry on the gravel walk below.