"Come, major, toss me the little woman and
follow yourself. Leave that old fossil, who'll be dead by to-morrow."
"Make haste!" cried the voice of all, as one man.
"Come, major, they are grumbling, and they have a right to do so."
The Comte de Vandieres threw off his wrappings and showed himself in
his general's uniform.
"Let us save the count," said Philippe.
Stephanie pressed his hand, and throwing herself on his breast, she
clasped him tightly.
"Adieu!" she said.
They had understood each other.
The Comte de Vandieres recovered sufficient strength and presence of
mind to spring upon the raft, whither Stephanie followed him, after
turning a last look to Philippe.
"Major! will you take my place? I don't care a fig for life," cried
the grenadier. "I've neither wife nor child nor mother."
"I confide them to your care," said the major, pointing to the count
and his wife.
"Then be easy; I'll care for them, as though they were my very eyes."
The raft was now sent off with so much violence toward the opposite
side of the river, that as it touched ground, the shock was felt by
all. The count, who was at the edge of it, lost his balance and fell
into the river; as he fell, a cake of sharp ice caught him, and cut
off his head, flinging it to a great distance.
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