Page 607 - les-miserables

into a laugh.
‘Come,’ said he, ‘it’s only a dead body. I prefer a spook to
a gendarme.’
But the hand weakened and released him. Effort is quick-
ly exhausted in the grave.
‘Well now,’ said the prowler, ‘is that dead fellow alive?
Let’s see.’
He bent down again, fumbled among the heap, pushed
aside everything that was in his way, seized the hand,
grasped the arm, freed the head, pulled out the body, and
a few moments later he was dragging the lifeless, or at least
the unconscious, man, through the shadows of hollow road.
He was a cuirassier, an officer, and even an officer of consid-
erable rank; a large gold epaulette peeped from beneath the
cuirass; this officer no longer possessed a helmet. A furious
sword-cut had scarred his face, where nothing was discern-
ible but blood.
However, he did not appear to have any broken limbs,
and, by some happy chance, if that word is permissible here,
the dead had been vaulted above him in such a manner as
to preserve him from being crushed. His eyes were still
closed.
On his cuirass he wore the silver cross of the Legion of
Honor.
The prowler tore off this cross, which disappeared into
one of the gulfs which he had beneath his great coat.
Then he felt of the officer’s fob, discovered a watch there,
and took possession of it. Next he searched his waistcoat,
found a purse and pocketed it.

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