She ran through the men, but could not find her. Here
and there she could discern in the pale light of a clouded moon some
knot of soldiers binding up their wounds and recounting their escapes
and their triumphs. She hurriedly ran through them, enquiring for her
brother-officer, but none knew anything of her. She scanned every
feature, she called her in every group, but in vain--no Henry was
there. The awful thought struck her--and her heart nearly broke under
its pang--perhaps she is killed! She flew across the bloody path they
had passed; her mournful and shrill cry of "Enrico!" rolled over the
bodies of the slain, and was echoed again and again with plaintive
intensity from the surrounding hills. Sometimes she even fancied the
dying echo of her own shrill cry was the feeble answer of her wounded
sister; and when she would pause to listen again, the valley around
was wrapt in the stillness of death. At length she came to the spot
where the battle first commenced, and there, with a shriek that was
heard in the distant encampment, she found among the first victims of
that bloody night the lifeless corpse of her sister.
Chapter XXII.
The Morning After the Battle.
The morning sun rose dimly in a bank of clouds. It found Charles
still clinging to the remains of poor Aloysia, and bathing with kisses
and tears the stiffened features of her beloved sister. With a silken
kerchief she had bandaged the fatal gash on her neck, believing she
might be only in a swoon and might recover.
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