"We came eleven strong last night; we are only nine now."

"That is bad. Were these two persons taken off rapidly?"

"One of the victims, a young man of twenty-five years of age, a cavalry
officer on furlough, was struck as it were by lightning. In less than a
quarter of an hour he was dead. Though such facts are frequent, we were
speechless with horror."

"Poor young man!"

"He had a word of cordial encouragement and hope for every, one. He had
so far succeeded in raising the spirits of the patients, that some of
them who were less affected by the cholera than by the fear of it, were
able to quit the hospital nearly well."

"What a pity! So good a young man! Well, he died gloriously; it requires
as much courage as on the field of battle."

"He had only one rival in zeal and courage, and that is a Young priest,
with an angelic countenance, whom they call the Abbe Gabriel. He is
indefatigable; he hardly takes an hour's rest, but runs from one to the
other, and offers himself to everybody. He forgets nothing. The
consolation; which he offers come from the depths of his soul, and are
not mere formalities in the way of his profession. No, no, I saw him weep
over a poor woman, whose eyes he had closed after a dreadful agony. Oh,
if all priests were like him!"

"No doubt, a good priest is most worthy of respect. But! who is the other
victim of last night?"