"You're losing a lot of blood," I said to him. I wasn't glad he was dying. I wasn't sad either. I didn't feel anything for him. Blood was coming out of his mouth. He wanted to say something but the words just couldn't come out. I thought I would feel pity for him at this moment, but that feeling never came. There would be no last words for him, nothing he could say that could change the outcome. Napoleon approached him and stood before him...