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Updated: June 29, 2025
He opened his eyes and looked once more at his wife. "Sauvez! sauvez!" he shouted, in a voice full of anguish. "Oh! "What! not dead yet?" roared the hussars, and they struck him again. Now he was dying. That loud, awful death-rattle was his last life- struggle.
After a moment, standing with eyes fixed on the face of the crucified figure, he said, in a shaking voice: "Pardon, bon Jesu! Sauvez mon enfant! Ne me laissez pas seul!" The boy looked up with eyes again grown unnaturally heavy, and said: "Amen! . . . Bon Jesu ! . . . Encore! Encore, mon pere!" The boy slept.
For a while the long Latin cadences sounded on through the church; but presently the cure took up in French the Canticle of the Sacred Heart, composed during the war of 1870, and the little congregation joined their trembling voices in the refrain: "Sauvez, sauvez la France, Ne l'abandonnez pas!"
After a moment, standing with eyes fixed on the face of the crucified figure, he said, in a shaking voice: "Pardon, bon Jesu! Sauvez mon enfant! Ne me laissez pas seul!" The boy looked up with eyes again grown unnaturally heavy, and said: "Amen!... Bon Jesu!... Encore! Encore, mon pere!" The boy slept.
Rizzio, to whom the sight of Morton had been as the removal of his last illusion, flung himself upon his knees before the Queen. Frail and feeble of body, and never a man of his hands, he was hopelessly unequal to the occasion. "Justice, madame!" he cried. "Faites justice! Sauvez ma vie!"
But it flourishes still with pristine vigor in New France, that olive branch grafted on the stately tree of the British Empire. The broad chest and flexile lips of Father de Berey rang out the grand old song in tones that filled the stately old hall: "'Grand Dieu! Sauvez le Roi! Grand Dieu! Sauvez le Roi! Sauvez le Roi! Que toujours glorieux. Louis Victorieux, Voye ses ennemis Toujours soumis!"
The reiterated appeal rose in a sob above the rows of bodies in the nave: "Sauvez, sauvez la France," the women wailed it near the altar, the soldiers took it up from the door in stronger tones; but the bodies in the cots never stirred, and more and more, as the day faded, the church looked like a quiet grave-yard in a battle-field.
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