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 THE LIBRARY 
 
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 MILITARY AND POLITICAL LIFE 
 
 VOLUME I
 
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 NO. 
 
 713
 
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 AT LA VI VET I ERE 
 
 * * * with eyes filled zvith hate, for she already 
 felt a terrible craving for revenge springing up in 
 her heart. Seeing death behind her, her pozverlessness 
 choked her. Her brain whirled as if she were going 
 mad ; thereupon, instead of killing herself, she seized 
 the szuord, brandished it over the marquis' head, and 
 buried it in his body up to the hilt.
 
 THE NOVELS 
 
 OF 
 
 HONORE DE BALZAC 
 
 NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME 
 COMPLETELY TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH 
 
 THE CHOUANS 
 
 BY G. BURNHAM IVES 
 
 WITH FIVE ETCHINGS BY RICARDO DE LOS RIOS, AFTER 
 PAINTINGS BY EDOUARD TOUDOUZE 
 
 IN ONE VOLUME 
 
 PRINTED ONLY FOR SUBSCRIBERS BY 
 
 GEORGE BARRIE & SON, PHILADELPHIA
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY GEORGE BARRIE A SON 
 
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 THE CHOUANS 
 
 OR 
 
 BRETAGNE IN 1799 
 
 
 189931
 
 TO MONSIEUR THEODORE DABLIN 
 MERCHANT. 
 
 To the first friend, the first work 
 
 DE BALZAC
 
 THE AMBUSCADE 
 
 * 
 
 Early in the year VIII., in the first days of Vende- 
 miaire, or, to conform to the calendar now in use, 
 toward the close of the month of September, 1799, 
 a hundred or more peasants and a considerable 
 number of bourgeois, who had left Fougeres in the 
 morning on their way to Mayenne, were climbing 
 the mountain of La Pelerine, which lies halfway 
 between Fougeres and Ernee, a small town where 
 travellers generally stop to rest. This detachment, 
 divided into several groups of unequal size, pre- 
 sented such an extraordinary collection of costumes 
 and an assemblage of individuals belonging to so 
 many different localities and professions, that it will 
 be well to describe the characteristic differences be- 
 tween them, in order to give this narrative the 
 vivid coloring on which so high a price is set to-day, 
 although, according to some critics, it interferes 
 with the delineation of sentiment. 
 
 A part of the peasants — and it was the larger 
 
 (5)
 
 6 THE CHOUANS 
 
 part — were barefooted and had no other clothing 
 than large goatskins which covered them from the 
 neck to the knees and trousers of very coarse white 
 cotton, whose badly-trimmed yarn was typical of 
 the indifference of the province in industrial matters. 
 The flattened locks of their long hair joined so 
 naturally the hair of the goatskin and concealed 
 so entirely their downcast faces, that one could 
 easily take the skin for their own, and confound 
 the poor devils, at first sight, with the animals 
 whose spoils served thena as clothing. But soon 
 you saw their eyes gleaming through the hair like 
 drops of dew through dense foliage ; and their 
 glances, while denoting human intelligence, certain- 
 ly spoke more of terror than of pleasure. Their 
 heads were surmounted by dirty red woollen caps, 
 like the Phrygian cap adopted by the Republic as 
 the emblem of liberty. Every man carried on his 
 shoulder a thick club of gnarled oak, at the end of 
 which hung a long cotton wallet with but little in- 
 side. Others wore, over their caps, broad-brimmed 
 hats of coarse felt, adorned with a sort of fringe in 
 wool of various colors, which surrounded the crown. 
 These latter were dressed throughout in the same 
 coarse cotton of which the trousers and wallets of 
 the first were made, and there was almost nothing 
 about their costume that belonged to the new civil- 
 ization. Their long hair fell over the collar of a 
 round jacket which did not reach to the hips, with 
 small square pockets at the sides, — a garment pe- 
 culiar to the peasants of the West. Beneath this
 
 THE CHOUANS 7 
 
 open jacket could be seen a waistcoat of the same 
 cotton, with large buttons. Some of them marched 
 in wooden shoes, while others, for economy's sake, 
 carried their leather shoes in their hands. 
 
 This costume, less original than the preceding, 
 soiled by long usage and blackened by sweat and 
 dust, had the historic merit of serving as a transition 
 to the almost sumptuous garb of some few men who 
 were scattered here and there among the motley as- 
 semblage like bright flowers. In very truth their 
 blue linen trousers and their red or yellow waist- 
 coats, like square cuirasses, embellished with two 
 parallel rows of brass buttons, stood out as sharply 
 against the white clothes and the goatskins of their 
 comrades as bluebells and poppies in a field of grain. 
 Some were shod with the clogs that the peasants of 
 Bretagne know how to make for themselves ; but 
 almost all had heavy hob-nailed leather shoes and 
 coats of very coarse cloth, cut like the old French 
 coats, whose shape is still religiously adhered to by 
 our peasants. Their shirt collars were fastened by 
 silver buttons, representing hearts or anchors. 
 Lastly, their wallets seemed to be better supplied 
 than those of their companions, and several of them 
 added to their travelling equipment, a flask, full of 
 eau-de-vie doubtless, which hung by a strap from 
 the neck. 
 
 Some townspeople appeared among these half- 
 savage men, as if to mark the last limit of the civil- 
 ization of those regions. With round hats, flat hats 
 or caps on their heads, shod with half-boots or with
 
 8 THE CHOUANS 
 
 shoes kept in place by gaiters, they, like the 
 peasants, presented a remarkable variety in their 
 costumes. Some half a score of them wore the 
 republican jacket known under the name of carma- 
 gnole. Others, well-to-do mechanics doubtless, 
 were clad from head to foot in cloth of the same 
 color. Those who were most elegantly dressed 
 were distinguished by frockcoats and redingotes of 
 blue or green cloth, more or less threadbare. 
 These last, veritable personages, wore boots of 
 various shapes and toyed with heavy canes like 
 men who bear up stoutly against ill fortune. Some 
 carefully powdered heads, some neatly braided 
 queues denoted that sort of care of the person 
 which is inspired by a beginning of education or of 
 fortune. 
 
 As you looked over these men, who seemed to 
 have been picked up at random and to be amazed to 
 find themselves in company, you would have said 
 that it was the population of some village driven 
 from their homes by a conflagration. But the period 
 and the locality imparted an entirely different in- 
 terest to this mass of men. An observer, familiar 
 with the secret of the civil discords by which France 
 was agitated at that time, would have found it a 
 simple matter to identify the small number of citi- 
 zens upon whose fidelity the Republic could rely in 
 that troop, composed almost wholly of men who had 
 borne arms against it four years before. One last 
 striking feature left no manner of doubt as to the 
 difference of opinion which divided the assemblage.
 
 THE CHOUANS 9 
 
 Only the republicans marched with something like 
 cheerfulness, whereas the other members of the 
 party, despite the noticeable differences in costume, 
 exhibited upon their faces and in their bearing, 
 the unvarying expression that misfortune causes. 
 Bourgeois and peasants, all bore the imprint of pro- 
 found melancholy ; there was something savage in 
 their silence and they seemed to be bending beneath 
 the burden of one universal thought, terrible beyond 
 question, but carefully concealed, for their faces 
 were impenetrable ; but the unusual moderation of 
 their steps might denote some secret design. From 
 time to time, some of them, made conspicuous by 
 rosaries hanging from their necks, despite the risk 
 they incurred in retaining that emblem of a religion 
 that was suppressed rather than destroyed, shook 
 their long hair and raised their heads suspiciously. 
 At such times they stealthily scrutinized the woods, 
 the paths and the cliffs by which the road was shut 
 in, but they did it after the manner of a dog with 
 his nose in the air, trying to scent game at a dis- 
 tance ; then, hearing only the monotonous sound of 
 their silent companions' footsteps, they would lower 
 their heads again and resume their despairing ex- 
 pression, like criminals on the way to the galleys, 
 there to live and die. 
 
 The march of this column toward Mayenne, the 
 heterogeneous elements of which it was composed 
 and the diverse sentiments that it expressed were 
 readily explained by the presence of another troop 
 forming the head of the detachment. The troop
 
 10 THE CHOUANS 
 
 consisted of about one hundred and fifty soldiers, 
 with arms and baggage, under the command of a 
 chef de demi-hrigade. It may be well to inform those 
 who did not witness the drama of the Revolution 
 that that title replaced the title of colonel, tabooed 
 by the patriots as being too aristocratic. These 
 soldiers belonged to a demi-brigade of infantry then 
 stationed at Mayenne. In those days of internal 
 dissensions, the natives of the West called all the 
 republican soldiers Blues. This appellation was due 
 to the first blue and red uniforms, the memory of 
 which is still sufficiently green to make a description 
 of them unnecessary. The detachment of Blues, 
 then, was serving as escort to this assemblage of 
 men, almost all of whom were ill-pleased to be taken 
 to Mayenne, where military discipline was expected 
 to give them the same enthusiasm, the same uni- 
 form, and the uniformity of gait in which they were 
 then so entirely deficient. 
 
 This column was the contingent obtained with 
 much difficulty from the district of Foug^res and due 
 from that district as its share of the levy of troops 
 ordered by the Executive Directory of the French 
 Republic by a law of the loth Messidor preceding. 
 The government had asked for a hundred millions and 
 a hundred thousand men, in order to send prompt 
 assistance to its armies, then being worsted by the 
 Austrians in Italy, by the Prussians in Germany, and 
 threatened in Switzerland by the Russians, in whom 
 Suvaroff inspired hopes of the conquest of France. 
 The departments of the West, known by the names
 
 THE CHOUANS II 
 
 of Vendee, Bretagne and a portion of Basse Nor- 
 mandie, which had been pacified three years before 
 by the labors of General Hoche, after a war lasting 
 four years, seemed to have seized that moment to 
 recommence the struggle. In the face of all these 
 aggressions the Republic exhibited its former energy. 
 In the first place, it provided for the defence of the 
 departments attacked, by entrusting it to the pa- 
 triotic portion of the inhabitants by one of the 
 articles of the law of Messidor. In short, the gov- 
 ernment, having neither troops nor money to spare 
 for its internal troubles, evaded the difficulty by a 
 legislative gasconade : being unable to send any- 
 thing to the rebellious departments, it gave them 
 its confidence. Perhaps, too, it was hoped that 
 this measure, by arming the citizens against one 
 another, would destroy the active principle of the 
 insurrection. 
 
 The article in question, which was the cause of 
 disastrous reprisals, was thus conceived : Free com- 
 panies shall be organised in the departments of the 
 West. This impolitic arrangement caused the West 
 to assume such a hostile attitude that the Directory 
 despaired of crushing it at the first blow. And so, 
 a few days later, it asked the Assemblies for spe- 
 cial measures relative to the small contingents of 
 recruits due under the article authorizing the free 
 companies. Therefore a new law, promulgated a 
 few days before the beginning of this narrative, and 
 passed on the third supplementary day of the year 
 VII., ordered that those small levies should be
 
 12 THE CHOUANS 
 
 organized into legions. The legions were to bear the 
 name of the departments of Sarthe, Orne, Mayenne, 
 Ule-et-Vilaine, Morbihan, Loire Inferieure, and 
 Maine-et-Loire. These legions, said the law, behig 
 orgatii^ed especially to fight the Chouans, cannot be 
 sent to the frontiers on a7iy pretext. These tedious, 
 but little known details explain at once the weak- 
 ness of the Directory's position at that time, and the 
 march of the motley troop of men under escort of 
 the Blues. Perhaps it will not be superfluous to add 
 that these grand and patriotic expressions of the 
 directorial will were never executed any farther 
 than to be inserted in the Bulletin des Lois. Being 
 no longer sustained by high moral ideas, by patriot- 
 ism or by terror, which so recently caused them to 
 be executed instanter, the decrees of the Republic 
 created millions and soldiers, none of which found 
 their way into the Treasury or the army. The 
 mainspring of the Revolution was worn out in un- 
 skilful hands, and the laws received in their applica- 
 tion the impress of circumstances, instead of domi- 
 nating them. 
 
 The departments of Mayenne and Ule-et-Vilaine 
 were at this time under the command of an old officer 
 who, forming his judgment of the proper measures 
 to take from what he knew of the locality, deter- 
 mined to extort from Bretagne the contingents due 
 under the law, especially that of Foug^res, one of 
 the most redoubtable hotbeds of chouannerie. He 
 hoped in this way to weaken the forces of those 
 threatening districts. The loyal soldier took ad-
 
 THE CHOUANS 
 
 13 
 
 vantage of the illusory provisions of the law to de- 
 clare that he would equip and arm the new recruits 
 immediately, and that he held at their disposal one 
 month's pay of the amount promised by the govern- 
 ment to these exceptional troops. Although Bre- 
 tagne at that time refused to perform any kind of 
 military service, the operation succeeded at first on 
 the faith of these promises, and the response was 
 so prompt that the officer took alarm. But he was 
 one of the old watch-dogs that are not easily taken 
 by surprise. As soon as he saw that part of the 
 contingents were hurrying to the appointed rendez- 
 vous, he suspected that there was some secret mo- 
 tive for their prompt coming together, and perhaps 
 he guessed rightly that they wanted to procure 
 arms. Thereupon, without waiting for the laggards, 
 he took measures to try and ensure his retreat to 
 Alenffon, in order to be nearer to the loyal pro- 
 vinces, although the growing insurrection in that 
 region made the success of his plan very problemat- 
 ical. 
 
 This officer, who, in accordance with his instruc- 
 tions, maintained the most absolute secrecy as to 
 the ill fortune of our armies and the by no means 
 consoling news from La Vendee, had attempted, 
 on the morning when this tale opens, to reach 
 Mayenne by a forced march, where he proposed to 
 carry out the law according to his own good pleas- 
 ure, by filling the ranks of his demi-brigade with his 
 Breton conscripts. The word conscript, which has 
 since become so famous, had recently for the first
 
 14 THE CHOUANS 
 
 time taken the place, in the laws, of the term reqiii- 
 sitio7inairc, originally applied to the republican re- 
 cruits. Before leaving Foug^res, the commandant 
 had ordered his troops to supply themselves secretly 
 with cartridges and sufficient rations of bread for 
 the whole party, in order not to attract the attention 
 of the conscripts to the length of the march ; and 
 he did not propose to halt for rest at Ernee, where 
 the men of the contingent, having recovered from 
 their surprise, might put themselves in communica- 
 tion with the Chouans, who were doubtless scattered 
 among the neighboring fields. The gloomy silence 
 that reigned among the recruits, who were surprised 
 by the old republican's manoeuvre, and their slow 
 progress over the mountain, aroused to the highest 
 pitch the suspicion of the demi-brigade commander, 
 one Hulot ; the most salient features of the pre- 
 ceding description possessed a keen interest for 
 him ; and so he marched silently on, surrounded by 
 five young officers, all of whom respected their com- 
 manding officer's preoccupation. But when Hulot 
 reached the crest of La Pelerine, he suddenly turned 
 his head, as if by instinct, to inspect the disturbed 
 countenances of the recruits, and was not slow to 
 break the silence. In fact, the constantly slacken- 
 ing gait of the recruits had already placed a gap of 
 some two hundred yards between them and their 
 escort. Hulot made a grimace which was peculiar 
 to him. 
 
 " What the devil's the matter with all those fel- 
 lows down there ? " he cried in a ringing voice.
 
 THE CHOUANS 1 5 
 
 " I should think our conscripts were closing the 
 compasses instead of opening them ! " ' 
 
 At these words the officers who accompanied him 
 turned about spontaneously, as if aroused from a 
 sleep by a sudden crash. The sergeants and cor- 
 porals imitated them and the company came to a 
 stop without waiting for the long-wished-for word : 
 "Halt!" Although the officers naturally looked 
 back at the detachment which was crawling up La 
 Pelerine like a long turtle, those young men, whom 
 the defence of their country had taken, like so many 
 others, from their professional studies, and in whom 
 war had not yet destroyed the artistic sense, were 
 so struck by the spectacle spread out before them, 
 that they did not reply to a remark whose impor- 
 tance was not known to them. Although they came 
 from Fougeres, where the same picture that they 
 now looked upon was before their eyes, with the 
 variations due to the change of perspective, they 
 could not refrain from casting one last admiring 
 glance upon it, like those dilettanti who take the 
 greater enjoyment in a piece of music because of 
 their acquaintance with its details. 
 
 From the summit of La Pelerine, the broad valley 
 of Couesnon lies before the eyes of the travellers, 
 one of its culminating points on the horizon being 
 occupied by the town of Fougeres. Its chateau, 
 
 ^ In familiar language, fermer le compas — to close the com- 
 passes — means to halt, and ouvrir le compas — ^to open the com- 
 passes — means to go forward.
 
 l6 THE CHOUANS 
 
 from the summit of the cliff on which it is built, 
 overlooks three or four important roads, a location 
 which made it formerly one of the keys of Bretagne. 
 From where they stood, the officers could see the 
 whole extent of that great basin, as remarkable for 
 the prodigious fertility of its soil as for its varied 
 aspects. On all sides mountains of schist arise in 
 the shape of an amphitheatre, their reddish sides are 
 hidden beneath forests of oak, and verdant glades lie 
 concealed on their slopes. The cliffs form a vast 
 enclosure, circular in appearance, in whose centre 
 lies a vast, smooth plain laid out like an English 
 garden. The multitude of quickset hedges enclosing 
 numerous small properties of irregular shape, all 
 thickly planted with trees, give to that carpet of 
 verdure an aspect rare among French landscapes, 
 and it contains secrets pregnant with charms in its 
 multiplied contrasts, whose effects are broad enough 
 to reach the most indifferent mind. At that mo- 
 ment, the landscape was enlivened by the fleeting 
 splendor with which nature sometimes delights to 
 enhance the beauty of her imperishable creations. 
 While the detachment was crossing the valley, the 
 rising sun had slowly scattered the fleecy white 
 mists that hover over the fields on a September 
 morning. Just as the soldiers turned their heads, 
 an invisible hand seemed to lift from the landscape 
 the last of the veils in which it had been enveloped, 
 delicate clouds, like the transparent gauze shroud 
 spread over precious stones, through which they 
 arouse our curiosity. In all the vast expanse within
 
 THE CHOUANS I7 
 
 the officers' range of vision, there was not the 
 slightest semblance of a cloud in the sky, to con- 
 vince one, by the contrast of its silvery whiteness, 
 that that immense blue vault was really the firma- 
 ment. It seemed rather a silken canopy upheld by 
 the irregular mountain peaks, and suspended in the 
 air to shelter that magnificent aggregation of fields, 
 plains, streams and woods. 
 
 The officers did not weary of gazing upon that 
 landscape so replete with rustic beauties. Some 
 hesitated long before resting their eyes upon the 
 marvellous multiplicity of bosky groves, which the 
 harsh tints of some few yellowing clumps enriched 
 with the hue of bronze, and which were brought 
 into still bolder relief by the emerald-green of the ir- 
 regular meadows. Others revelled in the contrasts 
 presented by the ruddy fields where the buckwheat 
 stood in conical sheaves like the stacks of arms that 
 soldiers make in camp, separated by other fields 
 gilded by the prostrate rows of mown rye. Here 
 and there a sombre slated roof, whence a column of 
 white smoke issued, and the well-defined silvery 
 lines of the tortuous branches of the Couesnon at- 
 tracted the eye by one of those optical illusions 
 which cause the mind to waver and to dream, one 
 knows not why. The balmy freshness of the 
 autumn breeze, the pungent odor of the forest, 
 rose like a cloud of incense and intoxicated those 
 who gazed admiringly upon that beautiful country, 
 who contemplated with delight its unfamiliar flowers, 
 its vigorous vegetation, its verdure which rivals that
 
 l8 THE CHOUANS 
 
 of England, its neighbor, whose name is common to 
 the two countries. The dramatic scene was enliv- 
 ened by some few domestic animals. The birds 
 sang, causing the valley to give forth a sweet, low 
 melody that trembled in the air. If the thoughtful 
 imagination will notice carefully the accidents of 
 light and shade, the misty summits of the mountains, 
 the fanciful shapes that have their birth in spots 
 devoid of trees, or where the waters wind away in 
 graceful, sinuous course ; if the memory colors, so to 
 speak, this sketch that is as fleeting as the moment 
 when it is taken, those persons to whom such 
 pictures are not without attraction will have an im- 
 perfect image of the magic spectacle by which the 
 still impressionable minds of the young officers were 
 in some sort taken by surprise. 
 
 Reflecting that those poor fellows were regretfully 
 leaving behind their native province and their 
 cherished customs to go to meet their death, per- 
 haps, in foreign lands, they involuntarily forgave 
 them a delay which they understood. With the 
 characteristic generosity of soldiers, they concealed 
 their condescension behind a feigned desire to ex- 
 amine the strategic possibilities of that lovely region. 
 But Hulot, whom we must call the commandant to 
 avoid giving him the awkward title oi chef de demi- 
 brigade was one of those warriors who, when danger 
 is imminent, do not allow themselves to be distracted 
 by the beauties of the landscape, even though it 
 might be the terrestrial paradise. He shook his 
 head therefore and contracted two thick, black eye-
 
 THE CHOUANS 19 
 
 brows which gave a stern expression to his counte- 
 nance. 
 
 " Why the devil don't they come on ? " he asked 
 for the second time, in a voice made hoarse by the 
 fatigues of war. " Is there any blessed Virgin in 
 the village that they're shaking hands with ? " 
 
 " Do you ask why ? " replied a voice. 
 
 When he heard those v/ords, which sounded like 
 the notes of the horn with which the peasants of 
 those valleys call their flocks together, the com- 
 mandant turned sharply around, as if he had felt 
 the prick of a sword, and saw, within two yards, a 
 more extraordinary individual than any of those he 
 was taking to Mayenne to serve the Republic. He 
 was a thickset, broad-shouldered man, with a head 
 almost as large as a bull's, which it resembled in 
 more ways than one. Thick nostrils made his nose 
 appear even shorter than it was. His heavy lips, 
 parted by teeth as white as snow, his great, round 
 black eyes with menacing lashes, his hanging ears 
 and his red hair were less appropriate to one of our 
 fair Caucasian race than to the genus Herbivora. 
 The entire absence of the other characteristics of 
 sentient man rendered that bare head even more 
 remarkable. The face, bronzed by the sun, and 
 with angular outlines vaguely suggestive of the 
 granite that is the main element of the soil of those 
 regions, was the only visible portion of the strange 
 creature's body. From the neck down, he was en- 
 veloped in a sarrau, a sort of red cotton blouse of 
 even coarser material than that of the trousers of
 
 20 THE CHOUANS 
 
 the poorest conscripts. This sarrau, in which an 
 antiquary would have recognized the saye — saga — or 
 sayon of the Gauls, came to an end at his middle, 
 where it was attached to two goatskins by pieces of 
 wood, roughly whittled, from some of which the 
 bark had not been removed. The she-goats' skins — 
 to use the local term — in which his legs and thighs 
 were encased, left no semblance of a human form. 
 Enormous clogs concealed his feet. His long greasy 
 hair, not unlike that of his goatskins, fell on each 
 side of his face, separated into two equal parts, like 
 the hair of the statues of the Middle Ages which are 
 still seen in some cathedrals. Instead of the knot- 
 ted clubs which the conscripts carried on their 
 shoulders, he held against his breast, after the 
 manner of a gun, a great whip, whose deftly braided 
 lash seemed to be twice the length of ordinary 
 lashes. The sudden appearance of this strange 
 creature seemed easy to explain. At first glance, 
 some of the officers supposed that the stranger was 
 a recruit or conscript — the words were still used in- 
 terchangeably — who was returning to the column, 
 seeing that it had halted. Nevertheless, the man's 
 appearance strangely disturbed the commandant ; 
 although he did not seem in the least alarmed, his 
 brow became thoughtful, and after eyeing the 
 stranger from head to foot, he repeated mechanic- 
 ally and as if absorbed by gloomy thoughts : 
 
 " Yes, why don't they come on ? do you 
 know ? " 
 
 " Because," replied his dark-browed interlocutor
 
 THE CHOUANS 21 
 
 with an accent that indicated considerable difficulty 
 in speaking the French language, " because there," 
 he said, stretching out his great, rough hand toward 
 Ernee, "there is Maine and there Bretagne ends." 
 
 With that he stamped heavily on the ground, 
 throwing the heavy handle of his whip at the com- 
 mandant's feet. The impression produced upon the 
 spectators of this scene by the stranger's laconic 
 harangue resembled that which would be produced 
 by a sudden blow upon a tam-tam in the midst of a 
 band. The word harangue is hardly adequate to 
 describe the hatred, the longing for vengeance ex- 
 pressed by a haughty bearing, abrupt speech and 
 features instinct with cool and savage energy. The 
 coarse exterior of the man, who looked as if he had 
 been hewn with an axe, his rough shell, the stupid 
 ignorance written on his features, made him a sort 
 of barbarian demigod. He maintained a prophetic 
 attitude and stood there like the genius of Bre- 
 tagne, rising from a three years' sleep to renew a war 
 in which victory never appeared without double 
 mourning. 
 
 " There's a pretty head ! " said Hulot to himself. 
 " He looks to me like an ambassador from people 
 who are preparing to parley with musket shots," 
 
 Muttering thus between his teeth, the command- 
 ant turned his eyes from the man to the landscape, 
 from the landscape to the detachment, from the de- 
 tachment to the steep embankments of the road, 
 shaded at the top by the high broom plant of Bre- 
 tagne ; then he suddenly brought them back to the
 
 22 THE CHOUANS 
 
 stranger, as if subjecting him to a mute questioning, 
 which he brought to a close by asking him abruptly : 
 
 " Where do you come from ? " 
 
 His keen, piercing glance sought to fathom the 
 secrets of that impenetrable face, which, during the 
 interval, had taken on the idiotic, torpid expression 
 of a peasant in repose. 
 
 " From the country of the Gars," he replied, 
 without apparent embarrassment. 
 
 " Your name .'* " 
 
 ' ' Marche-d- Terre. ' ' 
 
 "Why do you bear your Chouan sobriquet, in 
 spite of the law ? ' ' 
 
 Marche-a-Terre — we will call him by that name 
 as he claimed it — looked at the commandant with an 
 expression of imbecility so unmistakably genuine, 
 that the commandant thought he could not have 
 understood him. 
 
 " Are you one of the Fougeres contingent } " 
 
 Marche-a-Terre answered this question with an 
 / don't know in a hopeless tone that checked all con- 
 versation. He seated himself calmly by the road- 
 side, took from his blouse a few pieces of a thin 
 black buckwheat cake, a national delicacy, the joys 
 of which none but Bretons can appreciate, and began 
 to munch it with stupid indifference. His appear- 
 ance was so indicative of an entire absence of intel- 
 ligence of any sort, that the officers in turn com- 
 pared him as he sat there to one of the animals 
 browsing on the rich pasturage of the valley, to the 
 savages of America or to a native of the Cape of Good
 
 THE CHOUANS 23 
 
 Hope. Deceived by his attitude, the commandant 
 himself had ceased to listen to his anxious thoughts, 
 when, as he cast one last glance, by way of precau- 
 tion, at the man whom he suspected to be the herald 
 of approaching bloodshed, he saw that his hair, his 
 blouse, his goatskin trousers were covered with 
 thorns, dried leaves, bits of wood and brambles, as 
 if the Chouan had travelled a long way through the 
 underbrush. He glanced significantly at his adjutant 
 Gerard, who was standing near, pressed his hand 
 hard and said in an undertone : 
 
 " We came out to look for wool and we shall go 
 back shorn." 
 
 The astonished officers looked at one another in 
 silence. 
 
 This is a convenient spot for a little digression in- 
 tended to explain and justify Commandant Hulot's 
 apprehensions to certain domestic individuals who 
 are accustomed to doubt everything because they 
 see nothing, and who might deny the existence of 
 Marche-a-Terre and the peasants of the West, whose 
 conduct at this period was sublime. 
 
 The word gars, pronounced ga, is a relic of the 
 Celtic language. It made its way through the Bas 
 Breton into the French, and the word contains more 
 reminders of ancient times than any other word in 
 our present language. The gais was the principal 
 weapon of the Gaels or Gauls ; gaisde meant armed ; 
 gais, courage ; gas, strength. These instances prove 
 the relationship of the word gars to words found in 
 the language of our ancestors. The word is analo-
 
 24 THE CHOUANS 
 
 gous to the Latin word vir, man, the root of virtus, 
 strength, courage. This dissertation finds its ex- 
 cuse in its nationality ; and then too, perhaps it will 
 serve to rehabilitate, in the minds of some persons, 
 the words gars, garr,on, garr.omiette , garce, garcette, 
 generally proscribed in polite circles as inelegant, 
 whose origin, however, is most warlike ; they will 
 appear here and there in the course of this narrative. 
 "He's 3i fine garce!" is a little known eulogistic 
 expression which Madame de Stael picked up in a 
 small town of Vendomois where she passed some 
 days of exile. 
 
 Bretagne is the one spot in all France where 
 Gaelic customs have left the strongest impress. 
 The portions of that province where, even to our 
 days, the wild life and superstitious minds of our 
 uncultured ancestors have remained flagrant, so to 
 speak, are called the country of the Gars. When a 
 district is inhabited by a number of uncivilized crea- 
 tures like those we have introduced in this scene, the 
 country people speak of " the gars of such a parish "; 
 and that classic appellation is a sort of reward for 
 the fidelity with which they strive to preserve the 
 traditions of the Gaelic language and customs : thus 
 their lives retain deep traces of the superstitious 
 beliefs and practices of ancient times. There the 
 feudal customs are still respected. There the anti- 
 quarian finds druidical monuments still standing, and 
 the genius of modern civilization stands aghast at 
 the thought of penetrating immense primeval forests. 
 Incredible ferocity, brutal obstinacy, but unswerving
 
 THE CHOUANS 25 
 
 fidelity to one's oath ; utter ignorance of our laws, 
 our manners, our costume, our new coins, our lan- 
 guage, but patriarchal simplicity and heroic virtues 
 unite to make the inhabitants of these country dis- 
 tricts poorer in intellectual combinations than the 
 Mohicans and Redskins of North America, but withal 
 as grand, as crafty and as unforgiving. 
 • The place Bretagne occupies in the centre of 
 Europe makes it a much more interesting object of 
 study than Canada. Surrounded by lights, whose 
 beneficent warmth does not reach it, the province 
 resembles a frozen coal that remains cold and dark 
 in the midst of a glowing fire. The efforts made by 
 some great minds to win over that fair section of 
 France, so rich in unknown treasures, to social life 
 and to prosperity ; everything, even the attempts of 
 the government, die in the bosom of an immovable 
 race wedded to the practices of immemorial routine. 
 This deplorable state of affairs may be explained to 
 some extent by the nature of the country, furrowed 
 by ravines, torrents, swamps and lakes, bristling 
 with hedges — a sort of earthwork which makes of 
 every field a citadel — and without roads or canals ; 
 to some extent, too, by the natural tendencies of an 
 ignorant population, enslaved by prejudices whose 
 perils will be made evident by the details of this 
 narrative, and unwilling to have aught to do with 
 modern agricultural methods. The picturesque 
 natural disposition of the country and the supersti- 
 tion of the people exclude all possibility of the asso- 
 ciation of individuals and the advantages to be
 
 26 THE CHOUANS 
 
 derived from the comparison and exchange of ideas. 
 There are no villages. The precarious structures 
 that they call houses are scattered over the country. 
 Each family lives in its own house as in a desert. 
 The only known gatherings are the ephemeral ones 
 at the parish church on Sundays and holy days. 
 Those silent gatherings, dominated by the rector, 
 the only master of those coarse minds, last only a 
 few hours. After listening to the terrible voice of 
 the priest, the peasant returns for another week to 
 his unhealthy abode ; he goes forth to work, he re- 
 turns there to sleep. If he has a visitor, it is the 
 priest — the soul of the whole countryside. Thus, it 
 was in obedience to the voice of the priest that 
 thousands of men hurled themselves upon the Re- 
 public, and that those portions of Bretagne, five 
 years before the time at which this story begins, 
 supplied great numbers of soldiers to the first 
 chouannerie. The brothers Cottereau, bold smug- 
 glers who gave their name to that war, carried on 
 their perilous trade from Laval to Foug^res. But 
 there was nothing noble in the insurrections of those 
 districts, and it can be said with assurance that, 
 whereas La Vendee turned brigandage into war, 
 Bretagne turned war into brigandage. The banish- 
 ment of the princes, the overthrow of the religion, 
 were to the Chouans nothing more than pretexts for 
 pillage, and the events of that internecine struggle 
 contracted something of the rough savagery of the 
 local customs. When true defenders of the mon- 
 archy came to recruit soldiers among that ignorant
 
 THE CHOUANS 27 
 
 and warlike people, they tried, but in vain, to im- 
 part under the white flag, some semblance of gran- 
 deur to the enterprises that had made the Chouan 
 method of warfare odious, and the Chouans remained 
 as a memorable example of the danger of exciting 
 the half-civilized masses of a province. 
 
 The picture of the first valley presented by Bre- 
 tagne to the traveller's eyes, the description of the 
 men who composed the detachment of recruits, the 
 portrait of the gars who appeared on the crest of La 
 Pelerine give a brief but faithful representation of 
 the country and its people. A trained imagination 
 can, from these details, — picture to itself the stage 
 and the instruments of the conflict ; its elements 
 were there. The flowering hedges in those lovely 
 valleys concealed invisible assailants. Every field 
 was a fortress, every tree masked a pitfall, every 
 old hollow willow trunk guarded a ruse. The field 
 of battle was everywhere. Guns lay in wait at 
 every corner for the Blues whom smiling young 
 girls enticed within range of the firearms, with no 
 thought that their conduct was treacherous ; they 
 went on pilgrimages with their fathers and brothers 
 to learn new wiles and to receive absolution from 
 wayside Virgins made of rotten wood. Religion, or 
 rather the fetich-worship of those ignorant creatures, 
 left them without remorse for murder done. So it 
 was that, when the struggle was once begun, every- 
 thing in the province became a source of danger, 
 noise as well as silence, joy as well as fear, the 
 domestic fireside as well as the highroad. There
 
 28 THE CHOUANS 
 
 was deep conviction in these acts of treachery. 
 They were savages serving God and the king in the 
 way that the Mohicans make war. But, to render 
 the description of that conflict accurate and true at 
 every point, the historian must add that the instant 
 that the treaty negotiated by Hoche was signed, the 
 whole region was friendly and laughing once more. 
 Families, whose members were tearing one another 
 to pieces the day before, supped safely under the 
 same roof on the morrow.
 
 « 
 
 The instant that Hulot detected the secret treach- 
 ery betrayed by the condition of Marche-a-Terre's 
 goatskin garments, he knew that the end had come 
 of the blessed peace due to the genius of Hoche, the 
 continuance of which seemed to him impossible. So 
 war was to break forth again, more horrible doubt- 
 less than before, after a period of inaction lasting 
 three years. The Revolution had grown milder 
 since the 9th Thermidor, but perhaps it was about 
 to resume the terrifying characteristics that had 
 made it odious to all just minds. English gold had, 
 as always, fomented the discords of France. The 
 Republic, abandoned by young Bonaparte, who 
 seemed to be its tutelary genius, was apparently in 
 no condition to resist so many foes, and the most 
 cruel of all was the last to appear. Civil war, por- 
 tended by innumerable partial uprisings, assumed an 
 entirely new and grave phase when the Chouans 
 conceived the plan of attacking such a strong escort. 
 
 Such were the reflections that passed through 
 Hulot's mind, although much less succinctly, as soon 
 as he thought that he detected, in the appearance of 
 
 (29)
 
 30 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Marche-a-Terre, an indication of a skilfully prepared 
 ambuscade, for, at first, he alone realized his 
 danger. 
 
 The silence that followed the commandant's pro- 
 phetic remark to Gerard, with which the preceding 
 scene closed, gave Hulot time to recover his self- 
 possession. The old soldier had almost staggered. 
 He could not drive away the clouds that darkened 
 his forehead when he thought that he was already 
 surrounded by the horrors of a war, whose atrocities 
 would perhaps put cannibal tribes to shame. Cap- 
 tain Merle and Adjutant Gerard, his two friends, 
 sought an explanation for the dread — a novel sight 
 to them — depicted on their chief's face, and looked 
 from him to Marche-a-Terre, who sat munching his 
 cake by the roadside, without succeeding in estab- 
 lishing the slightest connection between that species 
 of animal and their intrepid leader's anxiety. But 
 Hulot's face soon grew brighter. While deploring 
 the misfortunes of the Republic, he rejoiced that he 
 had to fight for her, he gladly made an inward vow 
 that he would not be fooled by the Chouans, and 
 that he would fathom the secret of the mysterious 
 and crafty man they did him the honor to employ 
 against him. Before forming any decision, he set 
 about examining the locality in which his enemies 
 proposed to surprise him. When he saw that the 
 road they were then following passed through a sort 
 of gorge, not very deep, in truth, but flanked by 
 dense woods from which several paths led into the 
 road, he drew his great black eyebrows together and
 
 THE CHOUANS 31 
 
 said to his two friends in a low voice trembling with 
 excitement : 
 
 " We've fallen into a fine hornet's nest ! " 
 
 "What is it you're afraid of, pray?" asked 
 Gerard. 
 
 " Afraid ? " echoed the commandant ; *' yes, 
 afraid. I have always been afraid of being shot 
 like a dog on the edge of a wood, without even the 
 warning of a qui vive ? " 
 
 " Bah ! " said Merle with a laugh. " Qui vive ? is 
 a great mistake." 
 
 "Are we really in danger?" asked Gerard, as 
 surprised by Hulot's sang-froid as he had been by 
 his momentary panic. 
 
 "Hush!" said the commandant, "we're in the 
 wolf's jaws, it's as dark there as it is in an oven and 
 we must strike a light. Luckily," he added, "we 
 hold the crest of this hill ! " 
 
 He embellished his remark with an energetic 
 epithet and continued : 
 
 " Perhaps I shall see my way finally." 
 
 The commandant, leading the two officers to the 
 side of the road, surrounded Marche-a-Terre ; the 
 gars pretended to think that he was in their way 
 and promptly rose to his feet. 
 
 "Stay there, vagabond!" cried Hulot, pushing 
 him back on the bank where he had been sitting. 
 
 From that moment the commandant did not cease 
 to watch the heedless Breton closely. 
 
 "My friends," he went on, addressing the two 
 officers in an undertone, "it is time to tell you that
 
 32 THE CHOUANS 
 
 the shop has been broken into over yonder. The 
 Directory, as the result of a row in the Assemblies, 
 has used its broom on our affairs once more. Those 
 pentarchs, or rather pantins ' — it is better in French 
 — of directors have lost a trusty blade. Bernadotte 
 will have nothing more to do with them." 
 
 " Who takes his place ? " asked Gerard eagerly. 
 
 " Milet-Mureau, an old graybeard. They select 
 a very bad time to let tongues govern ! English 
 broadsides are pouring in on us from all directions. 
 All these cockchafers of Vendeans and Chouans 
 are in the air, and they who are working the pup- 
 pets knew enough to seize the moment when we are 
 going to the wall." 
 
 " How so ? " said Merle. 
 
 " Our armies are beaten everywhere," rejoined 
 Hulot, lowering his voice more and more. "The 
 Chouans have already intercepted the couriers 
 twice, and I received my despatches and the last 
 decrees only because they were sent me by special 
 messenger by Bernadotte just as he was leaving the 
 ministry. Luckily some of my friends have written 
 me confidentially about the commotion. Fouche has 
 discovered that the tyrant Louis XVIIL has been 
 advised by traitors in Paris to send a leader to his 
 ducks in the interior. They think that Barras is 
 false to the Republic. In short, Pitt and the princes 
 have sent hither an ex-noble, an energetic, talented 
 
 ^Tentarch, member of a pentarchy or government of five ; 
 the Directory was composed of five members ; pantin, some- 
 what similar in pronunciation, means jumping-jack.
 
 THE CHOUANS 33 
 
 fellow, whose object it is to knock the cap off the 
 Republic's head by uniting the efforts of the Ven- 
 deans with those of the Chouans. My gentleman 
 has landed in Morbihan, 1 was the first to find it out 
 and 1 sent word to the rascals in Paris ; the Gars is 
 the name he has taken. All such beasts as that," 
 he said, pointing to Marche-a-Terre, " burden them- 
 selves with names that would give a true patriot the 
 colic if he had to bear them. Now our man is in 
 this region. That Chouan's arrival — " and he 
 pointed again to Marche-a-Terre — "tells me that 
 he's on our backs. But you can't teach an old 
 monkey to make faces, and you must help me to 
 whistle my linnets back into the cage, and in a 
 hurry too ! I should be a pretty duffer, if I allowed 
 myself to be snared like a rook by this ci-devant, 
 who comes from London on the pretext of having to 
 dust our hats ! " 
 
 Upon learning these secret and critical circum- 
 stances, the two officers, knowing that their leader 
 never took alarm without cause, assumed the grave 
 expression that a soldier's face wears when danger 
 is most pressing, if he be of stern temper and ac- 
 customed to go to the bottom of affairs. Gerard, 
 whose rank, since suppressed, brought him near his 
 leader, attempted to make some reply and to ask for 
 all the political news, some of which was evidently 
 withheld, but a gesture from Hulot imposed silence 
 upon him ; and all three renewed their observation 
 of Marche-a-Terre. The Chouan did not give the 
 least indication of emotion at finding himself under 
 3
 
 34 THE CHOUANS 
 
 the watchful eyes of men as formidable by reason 
 of their intelligence as by reason of their bodily 
 strength. The curiosity of the two officers, to whom 
 this sort of warfare was a novelty, was roused to a 
 high pitch by the beginning of an affair that pre- 
 sented an almost romantic interest, and they at- 
 tempted to joke about it ; but at the first word that 
 escaped their lips, Hulot looked at them gravely 
 and said : 
 
 " God in heaven ! we mustn't smoke over the 
 powder barrel, citizens. To be brave out of season 
 is like the amusement of carrying water in a basket. 
 Gerard," he said in the adjutant's ear, "draw 
 near to yonder brigand gradually and be ready to 
 run your sword through his body at the slightest 
 suspicious movement on his part. For my own 
 part, 1 propose to take measures to carry on the 
 conversation, if our unknown enemies choose to 
 begin it." 
 
 Gerard bent his head slightly in token of obedi- 
 ence, then began to contemplate the different as- 
 pects of the valley, with which we are sufficiently 
 familiar ; he seemed to wish to examine them more 
 closely and stepped backward, as if unconsciously ; 
 but it is certain that the landscape was the last 
 thing of which he took notice. For his part, 
 Marche-a-Terre made no sign to indicate that the 
 officer's manoeuvre involved him in any danger ; 
 from the way he played with the end of his whip, 
 you would have said he was fishing with pole and 
 line in the ditch.
 
 THE CHOUANS 35 
 
 While Gerard was trying thus to take up a posi- 
 tion in front of the Chouan, the commandant said in 
 an undertone to Merle : 
 
 " Give a sergeant ten picked men, and go yourself 
 and station them above us, at the point on the top 
 of the hill where the road widens, forming a plateau, 
 and from which you can see a good strip of the 
 Ernee road. Select a place where the road isn't 
 bordered with woods and from which the sergeant 
 can keep an eye on the fields. Call Clef-des-Coeurs, 
 he's a bright fellow. — There's nothing to laugh at, I 
 wouldn't give two sous for our skins if we don't 
 take our own time." 
 
 While Captain Merle was carrying out this order 
 with a promptness of which he understood the im- 
 portance, the commander waved his right hand to 
 enjoin silence on the soldiers who surrounded him 
 and who were talking and laughing. With another 
 gesture, he ordered them to resume their weapons. 
 When silence was established he looked from one 
 side of the road to the other, listening with anxious 
 intentness, as if he hoped to hear some stifled 
 sound, the clash of arms or footsteps precursory of 
 the expected struggle. His piercing black eyes 
 seemed to probe the forest to an extraordinary 
 distance ; but, finding nothing there, he consulted 
 the sand of the road, after the manner of savages, 
 trying to discover some traces of the invisible foes 
 of whose audacity he was well aware. Abandoning 
 the hope of discovering anything to justify his fears, 
 he went to the side of the road, climbed the low
 
 36 THE CHOUANS 
 
 slopes with difificulty and walked slowly along the 
 top. Suddenly he realized how necessary his ex- 
 perience was to the welfare of his command, and he 
 went down again. His face became darker than 
 ever ; for, in those days, the leaders always re- 
 gretted that they could not reserve the most peril- 
 ous tasks for themselves alone. The other officers 
 and the common soldiers, having noticed the preoc- 
 cupation of a chief whose character they admired 
 and whose worth was well known to them, con- 
 cluded that his extreme solicitude denoted impending 
 danger ; but being incapable of suspecting its 
 gravity, they stood like statues and almost held 
 their breath instinctively. Like those dogs who try 
 to divine the purpose of a skilful sportsman whose 
 orders are incomprehensible to them, but who obey 
 none the less promptly, the soldiers looked alter- 
 nately at the valley of Couesnon, the woods along 
 the road and the stern face of their commandant, 
 trying to read their fate therein. They consulted 
 one another with their eyes, and more than once 
 a smile passed from mouth to mouth. 
 
 When Hulot made his grimace, Beau-Pied, a 
 young sergeant who was considered the wit of the 
 company, said in an undertone : 
 
 " In the devil's name, what sort of a mess are we 
 in, that that old trooper of a Hulot should have such 
 a sour face ? He looks as if he were before a 
 court-martial ! " 
 
 Hulot having glanced sternly at Beau-Pied, the 
 silence required of troops under arms reigned 

 
 THE CHOUANS 37 
 
 supreme. Amid that solemn silence could be heard 
 the lagging steps of the conscripts, whose feet rose 
 and fell upon the gravel with a dull, regular, crunch- 
 ing sound, that added an uncertain element of emo- 
 tion to the general anxiety. This indefinable feel- 
 ing will be understood only by those who, when 
 suffering from the agony of suspense, have felt the 
 wild beating of their hearts, in the silence of the 
 night, increased tenfold by some noise whose monot- 
 onous repetition seemed to pour terror into their 
 hearts drop by drop. Resuming his position in the 
 middle of the road, the commandant began to ask 
 himself the question : " Have 1 made a mistake ? " 
 He gazed with concentrated wrath that shot in 
 lightning flashes from his eyes, at the tranquil and 
 stupid Marche-a-Terre ; but the savage irony which 
 he could detect in the Chouan's listless glance, per- 
 suaded him to continue his precautionary measures. 
 At that moment Captain Merle, having executed 
 Hulot's orders, returned to his side. The silent 
 actors in this scene, the type of innumerable others 
 which made this the most dramatic of all wars, im- 
 patiently awaited fresh developments, anxious to 
 have the obscure points of their military situation 
 cleared up by other manoeuvres. 
 
 "We did well, captain," said the commandant, 
 "to station the small number of patriots included 
 among the recruits at the rear of the detachment. 
 Take a dozen more good fellows, with sub-lieutenant 
 Lebrun at their head, and lead them quickly to the 
 rear ; they will support the patriots who are already 
 
 189931
 
 38 THE CHOUANS 
 
 there, and will push the whole of yonder flock of 
 birds forward, — at a good pace, too, — so as to bring 
 them up, at double quick, to the high ground occu- 
 pied by our men. I await you." 
 
 The captain disappeared in the midst of the troop. 
 The commandant glanced at four men, one after an- 
 other, whose intrepidity, address and activity were 
 known to him ; he called them silently, by pointing 
 his finger at them, one by one, and making the 
 friendly sign which consists in bringing the fore- 
 finger toward the nose with a quick movement 
 several times repeated ; they obeyed his sum- 
 mons. 
 
 "You served with me under Hoche," he said to 
 them, " when we brought those brigands who called 
 themselves the Khig's Chasseurs to their senses ; 
 you know how they hid to decoy the Blues ! " 
 
 At this implied eulogy of their shrewdness, the 
 four soldiers nodded their heads with a significant 
 wink. Their faces were of that heroic martial cast, 
 whose expression of careless resignation showed 
 that, since the beginning of the conflict between 
 France and Europe, their ideas had not gone behind 
 their cartridge cases, or ahead of their bayonets. 
 With their lips pressed together like a purse when 
 the cords are drawn tight, they looked at their 
 leader with an attentive and interested air. 
 
 " Very good," continued Hulot, who possessed in 
 an eminent degree the art of speaking the pictur- 
 esque language of the soldiers, "such sharp rabbits 
 as we are mustn't let Chouans fool us, and there
 
 THE CHOUANS 39 
 
 are Chouans here or my name's not Hulot. I want 
 you four to beat up the woods on the sides of the 
 road. Those fellows behind are going to spin out 
 the march. So, follow close, try not to be caught 
 off guard, and show me what there is in those 
 woods, quick ! " 
 
 Then he pointed out to them the dangerous ridges 
 overlooking the road. All, by way of thanking him, 
 carried the back of the hand to their old three- 
 cornered hats, whose high brims, battered by the 
 rain and made limp by long use, were falling over 
 on the crown. One of them, named Larose, a cor- 
 poral well known to Hulot, tapped his gun-barrel 
 and said : 
 
 "We'll whistle a little tune on the clarinet for 
 them, commandant," 
 
 They started off, two on the right, two on the 
 left. Not without some secret emotion did their 
 companions watch them disappear on the sides of 
 the road. Their anxiety was shared by the com- 
 mandant, who believed that he had sent them to 
 certain death. He shuddered involuntarily when he 
 could no longer see the tops of their hats. Officers 
 and men listened to the gradually lessening noise 
 of their footsteps on the dry leaves with a feeling 
 that was all the keener from being carefully con- 
 cealed. In war time, scenes constantly occur where 
 the endangering of four men's lives causes more dis- 
 may than the thousands of dead left on the field of 
 Jemmapes. Soldiers' faces wear such a multiplicity 
 of expressions, and all so fleeting, that those who paint
 
 40 THE CHOUANS 
 
 them are obliged to appeal to the memories of those 
 who have been soldiers, and leave pacific minds to 
 study the dramatic features, for such tempests of 
 emotion, abounding In details, cannot be fully de- 
 scribed except at interminable length. 
 
 Just as the bayonets of the four soldiers ceased to 
 gleam through the bushes, Captain Merle returned, 
 having carried out the commandant's order with 
 lightning-like rapidity. Thereupon Hulot, with two 
 or three orders in quick succession, drew up the rest 
 of his troop in battle array in the middle of the road ; 
 then he ordered a forward movement to the summit 
 of La Pelerine, where his little vanguard was sta- 
 tioned ; but he himself marched last, walking back- 
 ward, in order to observe the slightest change that 
 might take place at any point in the landscape, 
 which nature had made so charming and which man 
 made so terrible. He reached the spot where 
 Gerard was watching Marche-a-Terre, just as the 
 latter, who had followed with an apparently indif- 
 ferent eye all the commandant's manoeuvres, but 
 was then watching with incredible keenness the two 
 soldiers in the woods on the right side of the road, 
 whistled three or four times in such a way as to 
 produce the clear, piercing note of the screech-owl. 
 The three celebrated smugglers whose names have 
 already been mentioned made use of certain varia- 
 tions of that cry at night, to warn one another of 
 ambuscades, of impending danger and of anything 
 that was of interest to them. Thence their sobri- 
 quet of chuin, which means screech-owl or gray-owl
 
 THE CHOUANS 
 
 41 
 
 in the patois of tiie province. That corrupted word 
 was used to designate the men who, in the first war, 
 imitated the tactics and the signals of the three 
 brothers. When he heard that suspicious whistling, 
 the commandant halted and gazed fixedly at Marche- 
 a-Terre. He pretended to be deceived by the 
 Chouan's idiotic manner, in order to keep him at 
 hand like a barometer to indicate the movements of 
 the enemy. Therefore he stayed Gerard's hand as 
 he was preparing to dispatch the Chouan. Then 
 he stationed two soldiers a few steps away from the 
 spy, and in a loud, distinct voice, ordered them 
 to stand ready to shoot him at the least sign that 
 should escape him. Despite his imminent danger, 
 Marche-a-Terre seemed to feel no emotion, and the 
 commandant, who was studying him closely, noticed 
 his insensibility. 
 
 " The greenhorn doesn't know much ! " he said 
 to Gerard. "Ha! ha I it isn't easy to read a 
 Chouan's face ; but this fellow betrayed himself by 
 his anxiety to show his courage. Look you, Gerard, 
 if he had feigned terror I should have taken him for 
 a fool. He and I would have been a pair. I was at 
 the end of my string. Oh ! we shall be attacked ! 
 But let them come ! I am ready now." 
 
 Having uttered these words in a low tone and 
 with a triumphant air, the old soldier rubbed his 
 hands and glanced at Marche-a-Terre with a cunning 
 expression ; then he folded his arms across his 
 breast, stood in the rriiddle of the road between his 
 two favorite officers and awaited the result of his
 
 42 THE CHOUANS 
 
 dispositions. Sure of the battle, he looked calmly 
 at his soldiers. 
 
 " Oh ! there's going to be a shindy, the comman- 
 dant just rubbed his hands," said Beau-Pied in a 
 low tone. 
 
 The critical situation of Commandant Hulot and his 
 detachment was one of those where it is so certain that 
 lives are at stake, that men of spirit make it a point 
 of honor to exhibit great calmness and self-posses- 
 sion. At such times men judge themselves as a court 
 of last resort. Thus the commandant, being better 
 aware of the danger than his two officers, staked his 
 pride upon appearing to be the most tranquil of the 
 party. Resting his eyes upon Marche-a-Terre, upon 
 the road and upon the woods, one after another, he 
 awaited, not without agonizing suspense, the report 
 of the general discharge of the Chouans, whom he 
 believed to be hiding, like hobgoblins, all about him ; 
 but his face remained impassive. When the eyes 
 of all the soldiers were fastened upon his, he wrin- 
 kled slightly his dark, pockmarked cheeks, drew back 
 his upper lip and winked, a grimace always taken 
 for a smile by his soldiers ; then he brought his 
 hand down upon Gerard's shoulder, saying : 
 
 " Now, we have quieted down again ; what were 
 you going to say to me just now ? " 
 
 " What new crisis is approaching, comman- 
 dant .? " 
 
 " It's nothing very new," he replied in an under- 
 tone. " All Europe is against us and this time they 
 have a fine chance. While the Directors are fight-
 
 THE CHOUANS 43 
 
 ing among themselves like horses without hay in a 
 stable, and everything is falling to pieces in their 
 government, they leave the armies without rein- 
 forcements. We are crushed in Italy ! Yes, my 
 friends, we have evacuated Mantua as a result of 
 the disaster of Trebia, and Joubert has lost the battle 
 of Novi. I trust that Massena will hold the moun- 
 tain passes of Switzerland, which are threatened by 
 Suvaroff. Our cause is hopeless on the Rhine. 
 The Directory has sent Moreau there. Can that 
 fellow defend a frontier ? — I wish he could, but the 
 coalition will end by trampling on us, and, as ill-luck 
 would have it, the only general who could save us 
 has gone to the devil down yonder, in Egypt ! How 
 could he come back^ moreover ? England is mis- 
 tress of the sea." 
 
 " Bonaparte's absence doesn't disturb me, com- 
 mandant," replied the young adjutant Gerard, in 
 whom careful education had developed a superior 
 mind. "Will our Revolution come to a standstill ? 
 Ah ! it is our duty to do something more than defend 
 the French territory, we have a double mission. 
 Should we not also preserve the soul of the country, 
 the noble principles of liberty and independence, the 
 light of human reason, kindled by our Assemblies, 
 which I hope will spread gradually over the world ? 
 France is like a traveller entrusted with a light, 
 which she carries in one hand while she defends her- 
 self with the other ; if your news is true, never 
 within ten years have we been surrounded by more 
 people who are trying to blow it out. Doctrines
 
 44 THE CHOUANS 
 
 and country, everything is at the point of extinc- 
 tion." 
 
 "Alas, yes!" said Commandant Hulot with a 
 sigh. " Those clowns of Directors have succeeded 
 in getting into hot water with every man who could 
 steer the ship skilfully. Bernadotte, Carnot, every- 
 body, even to citizen Talleyrand, has left us. In 
 short, there is only a single good patriot left, friend 
 Fouche, who has everything in his hands through 
 the police ; there's a man for you ! It was he who 
 gave me timely warning of this insurrection. How- 
 ever, we're caught in some sort of trap here, I'm 
 sure of it." 
 
 " Oh ! if the army doesn't take a hand in our gov- 
 ernment," said Gerard, "the lawyers will put us in 
 a worse fix than we were in before the Revolution. 
 As if those poor fools knew how to command ! " 
 
 "I'm always afraid," rejoined Hulot, "that I 
 shall hear they are negotiating with the Bourbons. 
 Great God ! if they should reach an understanding 
 with them, what a pickle we fellows here should be 
 in!" 
 
 " No, no, commandant, we shan't come to that," 
 said Gerard. "The army, as you say, will raise 
 its voice, and provided that it doesn't take its words 
 from Pichegru's vocabulary, I trust that we shall 
 not be hacked to pieces for ten years, just to grow 
 cotton and see others spin it." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," cried the commandant, "it has 
 cost us terribly dear to change our costume." 
 
 " Very good," said Captain Merle, " let us con-
 
 THE CHOUANS . 45 
 
 tinue to act the part of good patriots here, and try 
 to prevent our Chouans from having any communi- 
 cation with La Vendee ; for if they do come together 
 and England takes a hand in it, why, this time I 
 wouldn't answer for the cap of the Republic, One 
 and Indivisible." 
 
 At that point the conversation was interrupted by 
 the cry of the screech-owl apparently some distance 
 away. The commandant, more disturbed than ever, 
 looked once more at Marche-a-Terre, whose impas- 
 sive face gave, so to speak, no sign of life. The 
 conscripts, urged forward by an officer, were huddled 
 together like a herd of cattle in the middle of the 
 road, some thirty paces from the company drawn 
 up in order of battle. About ten paces behind them 
 were the soldiers and the patriots commanded by 
 Lieutenant Lebrun. The commandant cast his eyes 
 over his order of battle and gave one last glance at 
 the picket stationed in advance of his position. 
 Satisfied with the disposition of his forces, he was 
 on the point of turning to give the order to march, 
 when he spied the tricolored cockades of two sol- 
 diers returning, after searching the woods on the 
 left side of the road. As he saw nothing of the two 
 scouts on the other side, the commandant deter- 
 mined to await their return. 
 
 " Perhaps that's where the bomb will burst," he 
 said to his two officers, pointing to the woods in 
 which his two lost children had buried themselves. 
 
 While the two skirmishers were making some- 
 thing in the nature of a report to him, Hulot took
 
 46 THE CHOUANS 
 
 his eyes from Marche-a-Terre. The Chouan there- 
 upon began to whistle vigorously in such a way as 
 to make the sound carry a tremendous distance ; 
 then, before any of those who were watching him 
 could take aim at him, he struck them a blow with 
 his whip that threw them down on the bank. In- 
 stantly the republicans were surprised by an out- 
 burst of wild shrieks or rather howls. A terrible 
 discharge of musketry from the wood on the crest of 
 the bank where the Chouan had been sitting, struck 
 down seven or eight soldiers. Marche-a-Terre, at 
 whom five or six men fired without hitting him, dis- 
 appeared in the woods after clambering up the slope 
 with the rapidity of a wild cat ; his wooden shoes 
 rolled into the ditch, and every one could see upon 
 his feet the heavy hobnailed shoes usually worn 
 by the King's Chasseurs. At the first yell uttered 
 by the Chouans, all the conscripts leaped into the 
 woods at the right, like a flock of birds flying away 
 at the approach of a traveller. 
 
 " Fire on those hounds ! " cried the commandant. 
 
 The company fired on them, but the conscripts 
 had succeeded in getting out of reach of the fusillade 
 by jumping behind trees, and before the guns could 
 be reloaded, they had disappeared. 
 
 " Pass decrees for the organization of depart- 
 mental legions, eh ? " said Hulot to Gerard. " One 
 must be a donkey like a director to think of relying 
 on a conscription in this province. The Assemblies 
 would do better not to vote us so much money and 
 clothes and supplies, but give us a little."
 
 THE CHOUANS 47 
 
 " The rascals like their cakes better than hard 
 tack," said Beau-Pied, the wag of the company. 
 
 At his words the deserters were assailed with 
 hooting and loud laughter from the little troop of 
 republicans, but suddenly they became silent once 
 more. They saw the two men the commandant 
 had sent to beat up the woods on the right creeping 
 painfully down the embankment. The less severely 
 wounded of the two supported his comrade, whose 
 blood drenched the ground. The poor fellows were 
 about half-way down when Marche-a-Terre showed 
 his hideous face ; he took such true aim at the two 
 Blues that he finished them at a single shot and 
 they rolled heavily into the ditch. No sooner did 
 his great head appear than thirty muskets were 
 raised ; but, like a phantom figure, he disappeared 
 behind the fatal tufts of broom. These events, 
 which so many words are required to describe, took 
 place in a moment ; in another moment the patriots 
 and the soldiers of the rear guard joined the rest of 
 the escort. 
 
 " Forward ! " cried Hulot. 
 
 The company pushed rapidly forward to the 
 higher, open ground where the picket had been 
 stationed. There the commandant drew up the 
 company in battle order ; but he saw no indications 
 of a hostile demonstration on the part of the Chou- 
 ans and concluded that the only purpose of the am- 
 buscade was to set free the conscripts. 
 
 "Their yells," he said to his two friends, " in- 
 dicate to my mind that they are not in force. Let
 
 48 THE CHOUANS 
 
 us go forward at the double-quick and we may 
 reach Ernee without having them on our backs." 
 
 His words were overheard by a patriot conscript, 
 who left the ranks and walked to where Hulot 
 stood. 
 
 "General," he said, "I've fought against the 
 Chouans before. May I have two words with you ? " 
 
 " He's a lawyer, they always believe themselves 
 in court," the commandant whispered to Merle. — 
 " Go on with your argument," he said to the young 
 Fougerais. 
 
 " Commandant, the Chouans have brought arms 
 for the m.en they've just taken as recruits, there's 
 no doubt of that. Now, if we show 'em our heels, 
 they'll wait for us at every turn in the road and kill 
 us to a man before we get to Ernee. We must 
 argue, as you say, but with cartridges. During the 
 skirmish, which will last longer than you think, one 
 of my comrades will go and bring up the National 
 Guard and free companies from Foug^res. Although 
 we're only conscripts, you'll see then if we belong 
 to the race of crows." 
 
 " Then you think the Chouans are numerous .-* '* 
 
 " Judge for yourself, citizen commandant ! " 
 
 He led Hulot to a part of the plateau from which 
 the sand had been removed as if with a rake ; then, 
 after calling his attention to that fact, he led him 
 some distance into a path where they saw marks of 
 the passage of a large number of men. The leaves 
 were trodden into the ground. 
 
 " Those are the Gars from Vitre," said the Fou-
 
 ON LA PELERINE 
 
 The Choiian thereiipori began to tvhistle vigorously 
 in snch a way as to make the sound carry a ireinen- 
 dons distance ; then, before any of those %vho ivcre 
 watcliing him could take aim at him, he struck them 
 a bloiv ivith his zvhip that threw them doiun on the 
 bank.
 
 -$„^,yA^J,r,-J an A, ■$ ^ / /».^
 
 THE CHOUANS 49 
 
 gerais ; "they are on their way to join the Bas Nor- 
 mands." 
 
 " What's your name, citizen ? " queried Hulot. 
 
 " Gudin, commandant." 
 
 " Well, Gudin, 1 make you corporal of your bour- 
 geois. You look to me like a staunch fellow. I 
 leave it to you to select one of your comrades to be 
 sent to Fougeres. You will stay beside me. First 
 of all, go with your men and pick up the guns, car- 
 tridge cases and uniforms of our poor fellows whom 
 these brigands shot down. We won't stay here to 
 eat musket-balls without returning them." 
 
 The intrepid Fougerais went back to collect the 
 property of the dead men, and the whole company 
 covered them by a well-sustained fire on the woods, 
 so that they succeeded in stripping the bodies with- 
 out losing a man. 
 
 "These Bretons," said Hulot to Gerard, "will 
 make famous foot soldiers if they will ever learn to 
 mess together." 
 
 Gudin's messenger started off on the run by a 
 winding path through the woods on the left. The 
 soldiers inspected their weapons and made ready 
 for the combat ; the commandant passed them in 
 review, smiled upon them, took his place two paces 
 in front with his two favorite officers and daunt- 
 lessly awaited the attack of the Chouans. For a 
 moment silence reigned once more, but it was not 
 of long duration. Three hundred Chouans, whose 
 costumes were identical with those of the conscripts, 
 debouched from the woods at the right and came 
 4
 
 50 THE CHOUANS 
 
 forward in a disorderly mass, uttering veritable 
 howls, and filled the whole road in front of the weak 
 battalion of Blues. The commandant arranged his 
 troops in two equal bodies, each presenting a front 
 of ten men. He placed between the two his twelve 
 recruits equipped in hot haste, and took his station 
 at their head. The little army was protected by 
 two wings of twenty-five men each, who manoeuvred 
 on the two sides of the road under the orders of 
 Gerard and Merle. Those two officers were to take 
 the Chouans in flank and prevent their spreading 
 out — s'egailler. — That word in the patois of those 
 countries refers to the practice of scattering over 
 the fields, where every peasant would take up a 
 position from which he could fire on the Blues with- 
 out danger ; when that happened, the republican 
 armies were at a loss how to come at their enemies. 
 These dispositions, ordered by the commandant 
 with the rapidity demanded by the emergency, in- 
 spired the soldiers with his confidence, and they all 
 marched silently forward upon the Chouans. After 
 the few seconds consumed by the two bodies in ap- 
 proaching each other, there was a point-blank dis- 
 charge which spread death through the ranks of 
 both. At that moment the two republican wings, 
 to which the Chouans were unable to offer any 
 resistance, fell upon their flanks, and by a hot, well- 
 directed fire, sowed death and confusion among their 
 enemies. This manoeuvre made the two parties 
 almost equal numerically. But the Chouan charac- 
 ter was notable for an intrepidity and constancy
 
 THE CHOUANS 5 1 
 
 that would stand any test ; they did not give way, 
 their losses did not make them waver, they closed 
 up and tried to surround the small, dark, compact 
 troop of Blues, which covered so little ground that it 
 resembled a queen bee in the midst of a swarm. 
 Thereupon ensued one of those ghastly combats in 
 which the rattle of musketry is rarely heard, but is 
 replaced by the clashing of side arms in hand-to- 
 hand struggles, and in which numbers turn the scale 
 where courage is equal on both sides. The Chouans 
 would have carried the day at the first onset, had 
 not the two wings commanded by Merle and Gerard 
 succeeded in giving them two or three volleys diag- 
 onally across their lines. The Blues in those two 
 wings should have held their positions and continued 
 to bring down their formidable adversaries by their 
 skilful marksmanship ; but, being roused to frenzy 
 by the sight of the danger hanging over the heroic 
 band of soldiers then completely surrounded by the 
 King's Chasseurs, they rushed into the crowd like 
 madmen, with fixed bayonets, and made the struggle 
 more equal for some moments. The two troops 
 thereupon fell upon each other with savage ferocity, 
 sharpened by the frenzy and cruelty of party spirit, 
 which made that war so exceptional. Every one, 
 mindful of his own danger, became silent. The 
 scene was as chilling and sombre as death. Amid 
 the silence of tongues, through the clashing of 
 weapons and the grinding of the gravel under their 
 feet, naught could be heard save the muttered 
 groans and exclamations of those who fell, griev-
 
 52 THE CHOUANS 
 
 ously wounded or dying. In the centre of the re- 
 publican force, the twelve recruits defended the com- 
 mandant with such heroic courage as he gave ad- 
 vice and issued order upon order, that some soldiers 
 shouted more than once : 
 
 " Bravo, recruits ! " 
 
 Hulot, with unmoved countenance and his eye 
 upon everything, soon noticed among the Chouans 
 a man surrounded by a picked guard, who seemed 
 to be their leader. It seemed to him most essential 
 that he should have a good look at the officer ; but 
 he made several vain attempts to distinguish his 
 features, which were constantly hidden from him by 
 the red caps and broad-brimmed hats. But he did 
 distinguish Marche-a-Terre, who stood beside his 
 chief repeating his orders in a hoarse voice, his 
 carbine being never idle. The commandant lost 
 patience at his repeated failures. He waved his 
 sword above his head, encouraged his recruits, and 
 charged the centre of the Chouans with such fury 
 that he cut through their lines to a point where he 
 could see the leader, whose face unfortunately was 
 completely hidden by a large felt hat with a white 
 cockade. But the unknown, taken aback by such 
 an audacious attack, recoiled and raised his hat with 
 an abrupt movement, and thereupon Hulot was able 
 to make a hasty mental sketch of his person. The 
 young officer, whom Hulot took to be not more than 
 twenty-five years old, wore a green cloth hunting 
 jacket. There were pistols in his white belt. His 
 heavy shoes were studded with nails like those of
 
 THE CHOUANS 53 
 
 the Chouans. Hunting gaiters reaching to the 
 knees and fitted to breeches of very coarse ticking 
 completed his costume, which enveloped a slender 
 and well set up figure of medium height. Enraged 
 to find the Blues within reach of his person, he 
 lowered his hat and rushed toward them ; but he 
 was speedily surrounded by Marche-a-Terre and 
 some terrified Chouans. Hulot thought that he saw, 
 as he looked between the heads that crowded about 
 the young man, a broad red ribbon upon a half-open 
 jacket. The commandant's eyes, attracted first of 
 all by that royal decoration, which was at that time 
 completely forgotten, suddenly fell upon a face 
 which he soon lost sight of, being compelled by the 
 exigencies of the battle to look after the welfare and 
 the evolutions of his little troop. So it was that he 
 hardly caught a glimpse of a pair of gleaming eyes 
 whose color escaped him, fair hair, and refined 
 features bronzed by the sun. He was impressed, 
 however, by the resplendent whiteness of a bare 
 neck, set off by a black cravat, tied carelessly in a 
 loose knot. The spirited, energetic manner of the 
 young officer was soldierly after the manner of those 
 who demand a certain amount of conventional ro- 
 mance in a battle. His well-gloved hand waved in 
 the air a sword that gleamed in the sun. His coun- 
 tenance denoted at once refinement and force. His 
 conscientious exaltation, heightened by the charms 
 of youth and by distinguished manners, made the 
 emigre a delectable image of the French nobility. 
 His appearance was in striking contrast to Hulot's,
 
 54 THE CHOUANS 
 
 who, not four paces away, presented a living image 
 of the energetic Republic for which the old soldier 
 was fighting ; while his stern face, his blue uniform 
 with worn red lapels, the blackened epaulets hang- 
 ing behind his shoulders, well depicted his character 
 and his aspirations. 
 
 The young man's graceful attitude and expression 
 did not escape Hulot, who cried, as he struggled to 
 reach him : 
 
 " Come on, you ballet-dancer, come on and let me 
 demolish you ! " 
 
 The royalist leader, angered by this momentary 
 disadvantage, started forward with a desperate rush ; 
 but when his people saw him risking his life thus, 
 they all threw themselves upon the Blues. Sudden- 
 ly a sweet, clear voice rang out above the uproar of 
 the battle : 
 
 " This way. Saint Lescure is dead ! Won't you 
 avenge him ? " 
 
 At those magic words, the onslaught of the 
 Chouans became terrific, and the republican soldiers 
 had great difficulty in holding their ground without 
 breaking their order of battle. 
 
 " If that wasn't a young man," said Hulot to him- 
 self, falling back foot by foot, "we shouldn't have 
 been attacked. Did anyone ever see Chouans offer 
 battle ? But so much the better, they won't kill us 
 like dogs along the road." 
 
 He raised his voice until the woods rang again : 
 
 " Forward, quickly now, my comrades ! Are we 
 going to be made fools of by brigands ? "
 
 THE CHOUANS 
 
 55 
 
 The verb which we substitute for the one the com- 
 mandant actually used is but a feeble equivalent ; 
 but veterans will be able to supply the genuine one, 
 which certainly is more to the military taste. 
 
 "Gerard, Merle," continued the commandant, 
 " recall your men, form them in a battalion, re-form 
 in the rear, fire on the dogs and make an end of 
 them ! " 
 
 Hulot's order was executed with difficulty ; for, 
 when he heard his adversary's voice, the young 
 leader cried : 
 
 " By Sainte Anne d'Auray, don't let them escape ! 
 Spread out, my Gars!" 
 
 When the two wings commanded by Gerard and 
 Merle withdrew from the general melee, each of the 
 little battalions was followed by a persistent body of 
 Chouans much superior in numbers. The old goat- 
 skins surrounded Merle's and Gerard's men on all 
 sides, setting up afresh their blood-curdling cries, 
 which resembled the howling of wild beasts. 
 
 " Hold your tongues, messieurs, we can't hear one 
 another kill ! " cried Beau-Pied. 
 
 This jest revived the courage of the Blues. In- 
 stead of concentrating their efforts on a single point, 
 the Republicans defended themselves at three differ- 
 ent points on the plateau of La Pelerine, and the 
 roar of the musketry awoke all the echoes of those 
 valleys but now so calm and peaceful. The victory 
 might have remained undecided for hours to come, 
 or the struggle have come to an end for lack of 
 combatants. Blues and Chouans displayed equal
 
 56 THE CHOUANS 
 
 courage. The frenzy of both parties was increasing 
 from moment to moment, when, in the distance, the 
 faint beating of a drum was heard ; and judging 
 from its direction, the body of men whose approach 
 it indicated seemed to be crossing the valley of 
 Couesnon. 
 
 "It's the National Guard of Foug^res ! " cried 
 Gudin in a loud voice ; " Vannier must have met 
 them." 
 
 At this exclamation, which reached the ear of the 
 young leader of the Chouans and his ferocious aide- 
 de-camp, the Royalists made a backward movement, 
 soon checked by a bestial yell from Marche-a-Terre. 
 In obedience to two or three orders issued in under- 
 tones by the leader and transmitted by Marche-a- 
 Terre to the Chouans in Bas Breton, they effected 
 their retreat with a degree of skill that disconcerted 
 the Republicans and their commandant. The 
 sturdiest of the Chouans drew up in the first rank, 
 presenting a respectable front, behind which the 
 wounded and the rest of their force withdrew to load 
 their guns. Suddenly, with the agility of which 
 Marche-a-Terre had already furnished an example, 
 the wounded clambered up to the crest of the bank 
 that flanked the road on the right, and were followed 
 by half of the Chouans, who climbed it rapidly to 
 take possession of the ridge, showing the Blues 
 nothing but their active heads above the bushes. 
 There they made a rampart of the trees, and di- 
 rected their fire on what remained of the escort, 
 who, in obedience to Hulot's repeated orders, had
 
 THE CHOUANS 57 
 
 rapidly formed in line, in order to present a front on 
 the road of equal strength to that of the Chouans. 
 The latter fell back slowly, contesting every inch 
 and wheeling in such a way as to be protected by 
 the fire of their comrades. When they reached the 
 ditch by the roadside they too climbed the high 
 bank, whose crest was held by their friends, and 
 joined them there, bravely sustaining the fire of the 
 Republicans, who fired with such good effect that 
 the ditch was filled with bodies. The men at the 
 top of the embankment replied with a no less deadly 
 fire. At that moment the National Guard of Fou- 
 g^res came upon the battlefield at full speed, and 
 their presence put an end to the affair. The Na- 
 tional Guards and some excited soldiers were 
 already crossing the ditch to plunge into the woods ; 
 but the commandant shouted to them in his martial 
 voice : 
 
 " Do you want to be shot down in there ? " 
 
 Thereupon they rejoined the Republican battalion, 
 which was left in possession of the field, not, how- 
 ever, without great loss. All the old hats were 
 placed on the bayonet points, the muskets were 
 raised in the air, and twice the troops shouted as 
 with one voice : '' l^ive la Republique ! " Even the 
 wounded sitting by the roadside partook of the 
 enthusiasm, and Hulot grasped Gerard's hands, 
 saying : 
 
 " These fellows are what they call comrades, 
 eh ? " 
 
 Merle was entrusted with the duty of burying the
 
 58 THE CHOUANS 
 
 dead in a ravine by the road. Some of the other 
 soldiers attended to carrying the wounded. Horses 
 and carts from the neighboring farms were put in 
 requisition, and the sufferers were placed therein 
 upon the clothes of the dead. Before they began 
 their march, the National Guard of Foug^res turned 
 over to Hulot a severely wounded Chouan whom 
 they had captured at the foot of the steep slope up 
 which his comrades had escaped ; he had fallen 
 back, betrayed by his failing strength. 
 
 " Thanks for your assistance, citizens," said the 
 commandant. " Tonnerre de Dieu I we might have 
 had a bad quarter of an hour but for you. Look 
 out for yourselves ! the war has begun. Adieu, my 
 good fellows." 
 
 Hulot then turned to the prisoner. 
 
 " What's your general's name .■' " he asked. 
 
 "The Gars." 
 
 " Whom do you mean ? Marche-a-Terre ? " 
 
 "No, the Gars." 
 
 " Where did the Gars come from ? " 
 
 To that question the King's Chasseur, whose 
 harsh, savage features were distorted by pain, made 
 no reply, but took his rosary and began to repeat 
 prayers. 
 
 "The Gars is that young ci-devant with the 
 black cravat, 1 suppose 1 He was sent hither by 
 the tyrant and his allies, Pitt and Coburg — " 
 
 At those words the Chouan, whose ideas were 
 limited in extent, raised his head proudly and ex- 
 claimed :
 
 THE CHOUANS 59 
 
 " Sent by God and the king ! " 
 
 He uttered the words with an energy that ex- 
 hausted his strength. The commandant realized the 
 difficulty of questioning a dying man, whose whole 
 appearance denoted ignorant fanaticism, and he 
 turned his head away with a frown. Two soldiers, 
 friends of those whom Marche-a-Terre had so bru- 
 tally despatched with a blow of his whip at the road- 
 side — for they had died there — fell back a few steps, 
 took aim at the Chouan, whose fixed eyes did not 
 fall before their raised musket barrels, fired upon 
 him point-blank, and he fell. When the soldiers 
 approached to strip him, he cried again in a loud 
 voice : 
 
 " Vive le roi!" 
 
 "Yes, yes, you rascal," said Clef-des-CcEurs, 
 "go and eat buckwheat cake with your blessed 
 Virgin. Here he yells: ' yive le tyran!' in our 
 faces, when we thought he was done for ! " 
 
 " Here are the brigand's papers, commandant," 
 said Beau-Pied. 
 
 "Oho!" cried Clef-des-Coeurs, " just come and 
 look at this foot soldier of the good Lord, with the 
 colors on his stomach ! " 
 
 Hulot and several soldiers drew near the Chou- 
 an's entirely nude body, and saw on his breast 
 a sort of tattooing of a bluish shade, representing a 
 blazing heart. It was the rallying sign of the 
 members of the fraternity of the Sacred Heart. Be- 
 neath the drawing Hulot read : Marie Lambrequin, 
 doubtless the Chouan's name.
 
 60 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " You see, Clef-des-Coeurs ! " said Beau-Pied. 
 "Well, it would take you a hundred decades to 
 guess the purpose of that decoration." 
 
 " What do I know about the pope's uniforms ! " 
 retorted Clef-des-Coeurs. 
 
 "Miserable beetle-crusher, will you never learn 
 anything ? " returned Beau-Pied. " Don't you see 
 that they promised this dandy he should be born 
 again, and he had his gizzard painted on his breast 
 to identify him ? " 
 
 Even Hulot himself could not refrain from joining 
 in the general hilarity that greeted this sally, which 
 was not without some foundation. By that time 
 Merle had finished burying the dead and the 
 wounded had been arranged as comfortably as pos- 
 sible in two carts by their comrades. The other 
 soldiers, falling in in two files beside these impro- 
 vised ambulances, descended the other side of the 
 mountain toward the province of Maine, having at 
 their feet the lovely valley of La Pelerine, the rival 
 of Couesnon, Hulot, with his two friends Gerard 
 and Merle, followed his soldiers at a slow pace, hop- 
 ing to reach Ernee without mishap, where the 
 wounded could be cared for. This battle, almost un- 
 known amid the great events which were in store 
 for France, took the name of the place where it was 
 fought. It aroused some attention, however, in the 
 West, where the people, being deeply interested in 
 this second appeal to arms, noticed a change in the 
 way in which the Chouans renewed the war. 
 Formerly they would not have attacked such large
 
 THE CHOUANS 6l 
 
 detachments. According to Hulot's conjectures, the 
 young Royalist he had noticed must be the Gars, 
 the new general whom the princes had sent to 
 France, and who, according to the custom of royalist 
 leaders, concealed his title and his name beneath 
 one of those sobriquets called noms de guerre. That 
 circumstance made the commandant as anxious after 
 his disastrous victory as when he first suspected the 
 ambuscade ; several times he turned and looked 
 back at the plateau of La Pelerine, which they were 
 leaving behind and from which still came, at inter- 
 vals, the muffled sound of the drums of the National 
 Guard who were marching down into the valley of 
 Couesnon while the Blues marched down into the 
 valley of La Pelerine. 
 
 " Can either of you," he said abruptly to his two 
 friends, "fathom the motive of the Chouans' at- 
 tack ? To them, musket shots are an article of 
 commerce and I don't as yet see what profit they 
 have made on these. They have lost at least a 
 hundred men, and we," he added, drawing back his 
 right cheek and winking, as if to smile, "haven't 
 lost sixty. Tonnerre de Dieii! I don't understand 
 the speculation. The rascals might have avoided 
 attacking us, for we should have passed along like 
 letters in the mail, and I don't see what good it did 
 them to make holes in our men." 
 
 And he pointed sadly to the two cartloads of 
 wounded. 
 
 " Perhaps they wanted to bid us good-day," he 
 added.
 
 62 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " But, commandant, they got our hundred and 
 fifty greenhorns," suggested Merle. 
 
 " If the recruits had hopped into the woods like 
 frogs, we wouldn't have gone to fish 'em out, espe- 
 cially after they had given us a volley," rejoined 
 Hulot. — No, no," he added, " there's something 
 underneath it all." 
 
 He turned again toward La Pelerine. 
 
 " Stay," he cried, " see ! " 
 
 Although the three officers were already at a con- 
 siderable distance from the fatal plateau, their 
 trained eyes easily distinguished Marche-a-Terre 
 and some other Chouans, who had taken possession 
 of it after them. 
 
 "Forward, double quick!" cried Hulot to his 
 men, " start up and make your horses move faster 
 than that. Are their legs frozen .-' Have they 
 come from Pitt and Coburg too } " 
 
 His words caused the little troop to move rapidly 
 forward. 
 
 " As for the mystery, which seems to me too ob- 
 scure to pierce, God grant, my friends," he said to 
 the two officers, "that it be not unravelled with 
 musket balls at Ernee ! I greatly fear we shall 
 learn that the Mayenne road is intercepted by the 
 subjects of the king."
 
 « 
 
 The strategic problem that made Commandant 
 Hulot's moustache bristle, was causing no less anx- 
 iety at the same moment to the men he had seen 
 on the crest of La Pelerine. As soon as the sound 
 of the drum of the Foug^res National Guard had 
 died away, and Marche-a-Terre saw that the Blues 
 were at the foot of the long descent, he cheerily 
 gave the cry of the screech-owl, and the Chouans 
 reappeared, but in smaller numbers. Some of them 
 probably were engaged in caring for the wounded in 
 the village of La Pelerine, which lies on the Coues- 
 non slope of the mountain. Two or three leaders 
 of the King's Chasseurs were among those who 
 joined Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 Four yards away, the young noble sat on a block 
 of granite, apparently absorbed by the numerous 
 thoughts incident to the difficulties which his enter- 
 prise already presented. Marche-a-Terre made a 
 sort of screen with his hand to protect his eyes from 
 the glare of the sun and gazed sadly at the road 
 the Republicans were following across the valley of 
 La Pelerine. With his small, piercing black eyes, 
 he tried to make out what was taking place on the 
 
 opposite slope of the valley. 
 
 (63)
 
 64 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " The Blues will intercept the messenger," said, 
 in a fierce tone, that one of the leaders who stood 
 nearest to Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 " By Sainte Anne d'Auray, why did you make us 
 fight?" demanded another. "To save your own 
 skin ? " 
 
 Marche-a-Terre darted a venomous glance at the 
 questioner and struck the ground with the butt of 
 his heavy carbine. 
 
 " Am I the chief ? " he asked. 
 
 Then, after a pause : 
 
 " If you had all fought as 1 did, not one of the 
 Blues would have escaped," he added, pointing to 
 the remains of Hulot's detachment. "Then perhaps 
 the wagon would have got here." 
 
 "Do you suppose," said a third, "that they 
 would have thought of sending an escort with it or 
 detaining it if we had let them go their way quietly? 
 You wanted to save your dog's skin, because you 
 didn't think the Blues had started. For the good 
 health of his own muzzle, he's made the rest of us 
 bleed," added the orator, turning to the others, 
 " and what's more, we shall lose twenty thousand 
 francs in good gold." 
 
 "Muzzle yourself!" cried Marche-a-Terre, step- 
 ping back three paces and taking aim at his assailant. 
 " You don't hate the Blues but you love gold. You 
 shall die without confession, like a damned villain 
 who hasn't been to communion this year ! " 
 
 The insult angered the Chouan to such a point 
 that the color left his cheeks and a low growl issued
 
 THE CHOUANS 65 
 
 from his lips as he prepared to take aim at Marche- 
 a-Terre. The young chief darted between them, 
 knocked their carbines from their hands with the 
 barrel of his own rifle and demanded an explana- 
 tion of the dispute, for the conversation had been 
 carried on in Bas-Breton with which he was not 
 familiar. 
 
 " Monsieur le Marquis," said Marche-a-Terre, 
 " it's all the shabbier of them to bear me a grudge, 
 for I left Pille-Miche behind and he may be able to 
 save the carriage from the robbers' claws." 
 
 As he spoke he pointed to the Blues, who, in the 
 eyes of those faithful servants of the altar and the 
 throne, were, one and all, murderers of Louis XVI., 
 and brigands. 
 
 "What!" cried the young man angrily, "are 
 you staying on here to rob a carriage, you cowards, 
 who couldn't win a victory in the first battle in 
 which I have led you ! But how could anyone 
 triumph with such purposes in view ? Are the de- 
 fenders of God and the king mere highwaymen ? 
 By Sainte Anne d'Auray ! we have to make war on 
 the Republic, not on diligences. Those who are 
 guilty of such disgraceful deeds from this time on, 
 will not receive absolution and will not share in the 
 favors reserved for the king's worthy servitors." 
 
 A low muttering arose among those who listened. 
 It was easy to see that the new leader's authority, 
 so difficult to establish over those undisciplined 
 hordes, was seriously threatened. The young man, 
 who had not failed to observe that indication, was al- 
 5
 
 66 THE CHOUANS 
 
 ready casting about for some way to save the honor 
 of his position, when the silence was broken by the 
 rapid trot of a horse. All heads were turned in the 
 direction in which the newcomer might be expected 
 to appear. It was a young woman riding astride a 
 small Breton horse, which she urged to a gallop in 
 order to reach the group of Chouans more quickly, 
 when she saw the young man among them. 
 
 "What's the matter here."*" she asked, looking 
 from the Chouans to their leader. 
 
 " Would you believe, madame, that they are 
 waiting for the diligence from Mayenne to Foug^res, 
 with the purpose of robbing it, although we have 
 just had a skirmish to release our Gars from Fou- 
 g^res, which has cost us many men, and even then 
 we failed to wipe out the Blues.? " 
 
 " Well, Where's the harm ? " asked the young 
 woman, who, with a woman's natural tact, divined 
 the secret of the scene at once. " You have lost 
 some men, but we shall never lack men. The mes- 
 senger carries money, and we shall always lack 
 that ! We will bury our men, who will go to Heaven, 
 and we will take the money, which will go into all 
 these brave fellows' pockets. Where's the diffi- 
 culty ? " 
 
 The Chouans signified their approval of these 
 words by a unanimous smile. 
 
 " Is there nothing in all this that makes you 
 blush ? " replied the young man in a low tone. 
 " Are you in such need of money that you must 
 take it on the highroads ? "
 
 THE CHOUANS 67 
 
 " I am so famished for it, marquis, tiiat I believe 
 I would put my heart in pawn if it weren't taken," 
 she said, with a coquettish smile. " But where do 
 you come from, pray, to suppose you can make use 
 of Chouans without letting them pillage a Blue or 
 two here and there ? Don't you know the saying : 
 As big a thief as a screech-owl ? And what is a 
 Chouan, pray ? Besides," she added, raising her 
 voice, " isn't it just ? Haven't the Blues taken all 
 the Church's property and ours ? " 
 
 " Another murmur, very different from the growl 
 with ivhich the Chouans had answered the marquis, 
 greeted these words. The young man, whose brow 
 was growing darker, thereupon led the young lady 
 aside and said to her with the sharp displeasure of a 
 man of good breeding : 
 
 "Will those gentlemen come to La Vivetiere on 
 the appointed day? " 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "all of them, the Intime, 
 Grand- Jacques and perhaps Ferdinand." 
 
 " Permit me then to return ; for I cannot sanction 
 such acts of brigandage by my presence. Yes, 
 madame, I said acts of brigandage. There may be 
 something noble about being robbed, but — " 
 
 " Very well," she broke in, interrupting him, " I 
 shall have your share and I thank you for turning it 
 over to me. A little extra prize money will do me a 
 great deal of good. My mother is so slow about 
 sending me money that I am in despair." 
 
 " Adieu ! " cried the marquis. And he disap- 
 peared ; but the young lady hurried after him.
 
 68 THE CHOUANS 
 
 "Why don't you stay with me?" she asked, 
 with the half-despotic, half-caressing glance with 
 which women who have rights over a man can so 
 fully express their wishes. 
 
 " Aren't you going to pillage the carriage ? " 
 
 "Pillage?" she rejoined, "what a strange ex- 
 pression ! Let me explain — " 
 
 " Not a word," he said, taking her hands and 
 kissing them with the superficial gallantry of a 
 courtier. — " Listen," he continued after a pause, 
 " if I should stay here during the capture of the 
 diligence, our men would kill me, for I would — " 
 
 "You wouldn't kill any of them," she rejoined 
 hastily, "for they would bind your hands, with the 
 consideration due to your rank, and, after levying a 
 contribution on the Republicans sufificient to provide 
 for their equipment and their subsistence and to 
 purchase powder, they would obey you blindly." 
 
 " And you want me to command here ? If my 
 life is necessary to the cause I defend, permit me to 
 save the honor of my authority. If I retire 1 can 
 remain in ignorance of this cowardly performance. 
 I will return and accompany you." 
 
 He walked swiftly away. The young lady lis- 
 tened to his retreating footsteps with evident dis- 
 pleasure. When the rustling of dried leaves had 
 gradually died away, she remained for a moment 
 lost in thought, then returned in great haste to 
 the Chouans. She made a disdainful gesture and 
 said to Marche-a-Terre, who assisted her to dis- 
 mount :
 
 THE CHOUANS 69 
 
 ** That young man wants to make war on the 
 Republic according to military rules ! — ah, well ! a 
 few hours from now he'll change his mind. — How 
 he treated me ! " she said to herself after a pause. 
 
 She sat down upon the stone the marquis had 
 just quitted, and awaited in silence the arrival of 
 the carriage. Among the most remarkable phenom- 
 ena of that epoch was the case of this young lady 
 of noble birth, impelled by violent passions to throw 
 herself into the struggle of the monarchy against the 
 spirit of the age, and spurred on by the vivacity of 
 her emotions to acts in which, so to speak, she was 
 not wittingly an accomplice, therein resembling so 
 many others who acted under the impulse of mental 
 exaltation, often fruitful of great things. Like her, 
 many women played parts, some heroic, some 
 blameworthy, in this tumult. The Royalist cause 
 found no emissaries more devoted or more active 
 than these women, but none of the heroines of that 
 party expiated the errors into which their devotion 
 led them, or the misery incident to situations from 
 which their sex should debar them, more cruelly 
 than this lady, as she sat upon the granite boulder, 
 with despair in her heart, unable to withhold her 
 admiration for the young leader's noble disdain 
 and loyalty to his convictions. Insensibly she fell 
 into a deep reverie. Bitter memories made her long 
 for the innocence of her early years, and regret that 
 she had not fallen a victim to the Revolution, whose 
 victorious progress could not now be arrested by 
 such weak hands as hers.
 
 70 THE CHOUANS 
 
 The carriage which was in a measure responsible 
 for the attack of the Chouans, had left the little 
 town of Ernee some moments before the skirmish 
 between the two parties. Nothing depicts a country 
 more accurately than the condition of its social 
 mechanism. In that connection, this carriage de- 
 serves honorable mention. The Revolution itself 
 had not the power to destroy it, it is still in use in 
 our day. When Turgot redeemed the exclusive 
 privilege a company had obtained from Louis XIV. 
 of carrying passengers all over the kingdom, and in- 
 stituted the enterprises known as Tiirgotines, the 
 provinces were flooded with the old chariots of Mes- 
 sieurs de Vousges and Chanteclaire and the widow 
 Lacombe. One of those wretched vehicles opened 
 communications between Mayenne and Fougeres. 
 Some obstinate conservatives had long ago, by an- 
 tiphrasis, given it the name of la turgotine, either in 
 imitation of Paris or in detestation of a minister who 
 attempted innovations. This turgotine was a rickety 
 cabriolet with two very high wheels, in which two 
 persons inclined to be corpulent would have found 
 it difficult to sit. As the narrow dimensions of the 
 frail machine limited its interior capacity to two per- 
 sons, and as the box which formed the driver's seat 
 was reserved exclusively for the use of the mail, if 
 travellers had any luggage, they were compelled to 
 hold it between their legs, already terribly cramped 
 in their little box which was not unlike a pair of 
 bellows in shape. Its original color and that of the 
 wheels, furnished an insoluble enigma to travellers.
 
 THE CHOUANS 7 1 
 
 Two leather curtains, still unmanageably stiff de- 
 spite their long service, were supposed to shelter 
 the sufferers from rain and cold. The driver, sit- 
 ting on a bench like that of the meanest Parisian 
 vans, was forced to join in the conversation by 
 reason of his position between his two-legged and 
 his four-legged victims. The equipage bore a 
 curious resemblance to a decrepit old man who has 
 passed safely through a goodly number of catarrhal 
 fevers and apoplectic strokes, and whom death 
 seems to respect ; it groaned as it moved and at 
 times fairly shrieked. Like a traveller overtaken 
 by drowsiness, it swayed from side to side and 
 backward and forward, as if trying to offset the 
 violent movements of the two little Breton horses 
 that dragged it over a passably rough road. This 
 monument of a bygone age contained three travel- 
 lers, who, as they left Ernee, where they had 
 changed horses, continued a conversation with the 
 driver, begun before reaching the town. 
 
 ** How do you suppose the Chouans would dare 
 show themselves around here ? " the driver was 
 saying. "They just told me at Ernee that Com- 
 mandant Hulot hasn't left Fougeres yet." 
 
 "Ah! my friend," replied the younger of the 
 travellers, "you risk only your carcass! If you 
 had three hundred crowns about you, as I have, and 
 were known to be a good patriot, you wouldn't be 
 so calm ! " 
 
 " You talk a good deal at all events," retorted the 
 driver, shaking his head.
 
 72 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Having counted the sheep, the wolf eats them," 
 observed the second passenger. 
 
 He was a man apparently about forty years of 
 age, dressed in black, in all probability a priest of 
 the neighborhood. He had an immense double chin 
 and his florid complexion pointed to the clerical pro- 
 fession. Although short and stout, he displayed 
 considerable agility whenever he was called upon to 
 enter or leave the carriage. 
 
 " Are you one of the Chouans ? " cried he of the 
 three hundred crowns, whose handsome goatskin 
 hid trousers of excellent cloth and a very neat 
 jacket, which indicated a well-to-do farmer. " By 
 the soul of Saint Robespierre, I swear that you 
 would be warmly received — " 
 
 He looked with his gray eyes from the driver to 
 the passenger, pointing to two pistols in his belt. . 
 
 " The Bretons aren't afraid of those things," said 
 the priest scornfully. " Besides, do we look as if 
 we wanted your money .-' " 
 
 Every time that the word money was pronounced 
 the driver became silent, and the priest had just 
 enough wit to suspect that the patriot had money of 
 his own and that their driver had some in his charge. 
 
 " Have you a load to-day, Coupiau ? " queried 
 the abbe. 
 
 ** Oh ! I've got nothing, as you might say. Mon- 
 sieur Gudin," the driver replied. 
 
 Abbe Gudin, having scrutinized the faces of the 
 patriot and Coupiau, found them equally imperturb- 
 able.
 
 THE CHOUANS 73 
 
 "So much the better for you," the patriot re- 
 plied ; " in that case 1 can tai<e measures to save my 
 own property if anything goes wrong." 
 
 Such a barefaced assertion of the right to dictate, 
 offended Coupiau, who retorted bluntly : 
 
 " I'm the master of my carriage, and so long as 1 
 take you — " 
 
 " Are you a patriot? are youaChouan? " queried 
 his adversary hastily, cutting him short. 
 
 " Neither one nor the other," replied Coupiau. 
 " I'm a postilion, and, what's more, a Breton ; 
 therefore I don't fear Blues or gentlemen." 
 
 " You mean highwaymen," retorted the patriot, 
 ironically. 
 
 ** They only take back what's been taken from 
 them," said the priest quickly. 
 
 The two passengers looked at each other to the 
 very whites of their eyes — if we may venture to 
 use that expression. There was in the depths of 
 the vehicle a third passenger, who preserved the 
 most profound silence throughout this discussion. 
 The driver, the patriot, even Gudin himself, paid no 
 attention whatever to this mute personage. He 
 was, in truth, one of those inconvenient, unsociable 
 travellers who behave in a public conveyance like 
 calves, journeying resignedly, with feet tied, to the 
 nearest market. They begin by taking possession 
 
 ^Coupiau said: "I don't fear Blues or gentilshommes.''* 
 The retort was: "You mean gem-pUle-hommes : " — a play 
 upon words that cannot be translated.
 
 74 THE CHOUANS 
 
 of all the space to which they are legally entitled 
 and end by going to sleep, without respect for any- 
 thing human, on their neighbor's shoulder. The 
 patriot, Gudin and the driver had left him to himself 
 therefore on the strength of his slumber, after con- 
 vincing themselves that it was useless to speak to a 
 man whose expressionless face told of a life passed 
 in measuring off yards of cloth, and an intellect con- 
 cerned exclusively in selling them for more than 
 they cost. The fat little fellow, rolled up in his 
 corner, opened his china-blue eyes from time to time 
 and gazed at each speaker in turn with expressions 
 of doubt, dread and suspicion, during their discus- 
 sion. But he seemed to be afraid of his travelling 
 companions only and to worry but little about the 
 Chouans. When he looked at the driver, you 
 would have said they were brother freemasons. 
 At that moment the fusillade on La Pelerine 
 began. Coupiau, sadly disconcerted, stopped his 
 horses. 
 
 " Oho ! " said the priest, who seemed to under- 
 stand what was taking place, " it's a serious 
 engagement, there are a good many men at work." 
 
 "The embarrassing thing. Monsieur Gudin, is to 
 know who'll come out ahead ! " cried Coupiau. 
 
 At this crisis, all the faces were unanimous in 
 their anxious expression. 
 
 "Let's drive the carriage into that inn yard," 
 said the patriot, " and we can hide in the inn until 
 we know the result of the battle." 
 
 This suggestion seemed so judicious that Coupiau
 
 THE CHOUANS 75 
 
 adopted it. The patriot helped the driver to hide 
 the carriage from every eye behind a pile of wood. 
 The pretended priest seized an opportunity to whis- 
 per to Coupiau : 
 
 " Has he really any money ? *' 
 
 " Well, Monsieur Gudin, if what he has should 
 pass into your Reverence's pockets, they wouldn't 
 be very heavy." 
 
 The Republicans, in haste to reach Ernee, passed 
 the inn without stopping. At the sound of their 
 hurried steps, Gudin and the innkeeper, impelled 
 by curiosity, went as far as the courtyard gate to 
 look at them. Suddenly the stout priest ran up to 
 a soldier who was a little behind the others. 
 
 "Well, Gudin, pig-headed rascal," he cried, "so 
 you're with the Blues ! My child, can you think of 
 such a thing ? " 
 
 "Yes, uncle," the corporal replied, "I have 
 sworn to defend France." 
 
 "What's that? wretched boy, you are destroy- 
 ing your soul ! " said the uncle, trying to awaken 
 in his nephew the religious sentiments that are so 
 powerful in the Breton heart. 
 
 " If the king had taken his place at the head of 
 his armies, uncle, I don't say that — " 
 
 " Imbecile, who said anything about the king ? 
 Does your Republic give away abbeys ? It has 
 overturned everything. What do you expect to 
 gain ? Stay with us ; we shall triumph some day 
 or other, and you will be made a councillor in some 
 parliament."
 
 76 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Parliament ? " echoed Gudin in a mocking 
 tone ! " Adieu, uncle ! " 
 
 " You shan't have three sous from me," said the 
 uncle angrily. " 1 disinherit you ! " 
 
 " Thanks," said the Republican. 
 
 They separated. The fumes of the cider poured 
 into Coupiau by the patriot while the little troop 
 was passing, completely obscured the driver's intel- 
 lect ; but he awoke in high feather when the inn- 
 keeper, having made inquiries as to the result of 
 the skirmish, announced that the Blues had had the 
 advantage. Coupiau thereupon took the road once 
 more, and his vehicle soon appeared in the depths 
 of the valley of La Pelerine, whence could be seen 
 the plateaus of Maine and of Bretagne, like the 
 wreckage of a ship floating on the waves after a 
 tempest. 
 
 When the Blues reached the summit of the hill up 
 which they were then climbing, and from which La 
 Pelerine was still visible in the distance, Hulot turned 
 and looked to see if the Chouans were still there ; 
 the sun, shining on their gun-barrels, pointed them 
 out to him like so many glistening points. As he 
 cast one last backward glance on the valley he was 
 leaving to enter the valley of Ernee, he fancied that 
 he could distinguish Coupiau's equipage on the high 
 road. 
 
 "Isn't that the Mayenne carriage?" he asked 
 his two friends. 
 
 The officers, turning their eyes on the old turgo- 
 tine, recognized it perfectly.
 
 THE CHOUANS TJ 
 
 " Well, how does it happen that we didn't meet 
 it ? " said Hulot. • 
 
 They looked at each other in silence. 
 
 "Still another enigma! " cried the commandant. 
 " I begin to suspect the truth however." 
 
 At that moment Marche-a-Terre, who also recog- 
 nized the turgotine, pointed it out to his comrade, 
 and their universal joyous exclamations aroused the 
 young lady from her reverie. She came forward 
 and saw the vehicle, approaching the slope of La Pe- 
 lerine with fatal rapidity. The ill-fated turgotine 
 soon reached the plateau. The Chouans, who had 
 concealed themselves anew, pounced upon their 
 prey with greedy celerity. The silent traveller 
 crouched in the back part of the carriage and tried 
 to look like a package. 
 
 "Good!" cried Coupiau from his box, pointing 
 to the peasant, "you scented this patriot fellow 
 here ; he has gold, a bag full of it ! " 
 
 The Chouans greeted these words with a general 
 roar of laughter and shouted : 
 
 " Pille-Miche ! Pille-Miche ! Pille-Miche ! " 
 
 Amid the laughter, to which Pille-Miche himself 
 replied like an echo, Coupiau climbed down shame- 
 facedly from his seat. When the famous Cibot, 
 called Pille-Miche, assisted his neighbor to alight, a 
 respectful murmur arose on all sides. 
 
 " It's Abbe Gudin ! " cried several men. 
 
 At that respected name all hats were removed, the 
 Chouans knelt before the priest and asked his bless- 
 ing, which the abbe gravely bestowed upon them.
 
 78 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " He would deceive Saint Peter and steal the 
 keys of Paradise," he said, laying his hand on Pille- 
 Miche's shoulder. " Except for him, the Blues 
 would have intercepted us." 
 
 But when he caught sight of the young lady. 
 Abbe Gudin went and spoke with her a few steps 
 apart. Marche-a-Terre, who had hurriedly opened 
 the box seat of the cabriolet, held up with savage 
 glee, a bag whose shape indicated that it contained 
 rolls of gold. He did not long delay making a divi- 
 sion, each Chouan received his share with such 
 scrupulous fairness that not the slightest question 
 arose over the division. Then he walked toward 
 the young lady and the priest, and handed them 
 about six thousand francs. 
 
 " Can I conscientiously accept it. Monsieur 
 Gudin?" said she, feeling the need of some 
 sanction. 
 
 " How now, madame? Has not the Church here- 
 tofore approved the confiscation of the property of 
 Protestants? With the stronger reason then, that of 
 rebels, who deny God, destroy chapels and perse- 
 cute the religion." 
 
 Abbe Gudin added example to precept by accept- 
 ing without scruple the novel form of tithe Marche- 
 a-Terre offered him. 
 
 " However," he added, " I can now devote all 
 that 1 possess to the defence of God and the king : 
 my nephew has gone with the Blues ! " 
 
 Coupiau was wringing his hands and crying out 
 that he was ruined.
 
 THE CHOUANS 79 
 
 "Come with us," said Marche-a-Terre, "you 
 siiall have your share," 
 
 " But people will think I meant to allow myself to 
 be robbed, if I go back without any signs of vio- 
 lence." 
 
 " Is that all you want? " said Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 He gave a signal and the turgotine was riddled 
 with bullets. At that unexpected volley, the old 
 carriage gave forth such a piteous shriek, that the 
 Chouans, being naturally superstitious, recoiled in 
 terror ; but Marche-a-Terre had seen the taciturn 
 passenger's pale face leap up and fall back in the 
 back corner. 
 
 " You have still another chicken in your coop } " 
 he said in an undertone to Coupiau. 
 
 Pille-Miche, who overheard the question, winked 
 significantly. 
 
 " Yes," replied the driver, " but I make it a con- 
 dition of my enlisting with you fellows that you let 
 me take that good man safe and sound to Fougeres. 
 I promised to do it in the name of Sainte d'Auray." 
 
 " Who is it ? " demanded Pille-Miche. 
 
 " I can't tell you," Coupiau replied. 
 
 " Let him alone then ! " rejoined Marche-a-Terre, 
 nudging Pille-Miche with his elbow; "he's sworn 
 by Sainte Anne d'Auray, so he must keep his 
 oath." 
 
 " But don't go down the mountain too fast," said 
 the Chouan to Coupiau, "we'll overtake you, I'll 
 tell you why. I want to see your passenger's phiz, 
 and we'll give him a passport."
 
 8o THE CHOUANS 
 
 At that moment they heard a horse galloping 
 swiftly toward them from La Pelerine. Soon the 
 young nobleman appeared. The lady hastily con- 
 cealed the bag she held in her hand. 
 
 " You can keep that money without scruple," said 
 the young man, pulling her arm from behind her 
 back. " Here's a letter for you that I found 
 among those awaiting me at La Vivetiere ; it is from 
 your mother." 
 
 Glancing at the Chouans who were returning 
 from the woods, then at the carriage going down 
 into the valley of Couesnon, he added : 
 
 " Notwithstanding my diligence I didn't arrive in 
 time ! God grant that 1 am mistaken in my sus- 
 picions ! " 
 
 " It's my poor mother's money I " cried the lady, 
 after she had broken the seal of the letter, whose 
 first words drew that exclamation from her. 
 
 A stifled laugh was heard among the woods. 
 Even the young man could not repress a smile 
 when he saw her holding in her hand the bag 
 that contained her share in the proceeds of the 
 theft of her own money. She began to laugh her- 
 self. 
 
 " Well, marquis, God be praised ! for this once I 
 come off without blame," she said to the young 
 chief. 
 
 "You deal lightly with everything, I see, even 
 with your remorse," said he. 
 
 She blushed and looked at him with such genuine 
 contrition, that he was disarmed. The abbe, polite-
 
 THE CHOUANS 8l 
 
 ly but with an equivocal expression, returned the 
 tithe he had just received ; then he followed the 
 young officer, who walked toward the winding path 
 by which he had come. Before joining them, the 
 young lady beckoned to Marche-a-Terre, who came 
 to her side. 
 
 ♦* You must go on ahead from Mortagne," she said 
 in an undertone. " I know that the Blues are to 
 send a large sum in specie to Alen^on very soon, to 
 meet the expense of the military preparations. If I 
 allow your comrades to keep to-day's prize, I do so 
 only on condition that they will find a way to make 
 it up to me. Above all things, don't let the Gars 
 know the object of your exf)edition, for he might op- 
 pose it ; but, in case anything goes wrong, 1 will 
 smooth him down." 
 
 "Madame," said the marquis, as she took her 
 place en croupe behind him, leaving her horse for the 
 abbe, " our friends in Paris write me to look out for 
 ourselves. The Republic proposes to try to fight 
 us by strategy and treachery." 
 
 " That's not bad," she replied. " Those fellows 
 have some very good ideas ! I shall be able to take 
 part in the war and find worthy adversaries." 
 
 "1 believe you!" cried the marquis. " Piche- 
 gru urges me to be wary and circumspect in my 
 friendships of every kind. The Republic does me 
 the honor to deem me more dangerous than all the 
 Vendeans together, and relies upon my weaknesses 
 to obtain possession of my person." 
 
 " Do you distrust me .•' " she demanded, striking
 
 82 THE CHOUANS 
 
 his heart with the hand with which she was clinging 
 to him. 
 
 " If so, would you be here, madame," said he, 
 turning his face toward her. She kissed his fore- 
 head. 
 
 " So Fouche's police will be more dangerous to us 
 than the flying columns and the contre-Chouans," 
 observed the priest. 
 
 " As you say, your Reverence." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " cried the lady, " pray, does Fouche 
 intend to send women here against you ? I await 
 them," she added in a deep voice, after a brief pause. 
 
 Three or four gunshots away from the deserted 
 plateau, which was now abandoned by the leaders, 
 there took place one of those scenes which were of 
 extremely frequent occurrence upon the highroads 
 for some time thereafter. Pille-Miche and Marche- 
 a-Terre had stopped the carriage again at a turn in 
 the road just beyond the little village of La Pelerine, 
 Coupiau climbed down from his box after a feeble 
 resistance. The silent passenger, having been ex- 
 humed from his hiding-place by the two Chouans, 
 found himself kneeling in a clump of broom, 
 
 " Who are you ? " demanded Marche-a-Terre in a 
 threatening voice. 
 
 The passenger made no reply until Pille-Miche re- 
 peated the question, emphasizing it with a blow with 
 the butt of his musket. 
 
 " 1 am Jacques Pinaud," he then said, with a 
 glance at Coupiau, " a poor cotton merchant." 
 
 Coupiau shook his head, thinking that he did not
 
 THE CHOUANS 83 
 
 thereby break his oath. That gesture enlightened 
 Pille-Mlche, who brought his gun to bear on the 
 traveller, while Marche-a-Terre propounded cate- 
 gorically this terrifying ultimatum : 
 
 " You're too fat to care much for the poor ! If 
 you make us ask you your true name again, my 
 friend Pille-Miche here, with a single shot, will earn 
 the esteem and gratitude of your heirs. — Who are 
 you ? " he added after a pause. 
 
 " I am D'Orgemont of Fougeres.'* 
 
 " Aha ! " cried the two Chouans. 
 
 " I didn'tgive your name. Monsieur d'Orgemont," 
 said Coupiau. " The Holy Virgin is my witness 
 that I told you not to do it." 
 
 " As you are Monsieur d'Orgemont of Fougeres," 
 said Marche-a-Terre, with an ironically respectful 
 air, "we propose to allow you to go your way in 
 peace. But, as you are neither a good Chouan nor 
 a good Blue, although it was you that bought the 
 property of the Abbey of Juvigny, you will be good 
 enough to pay us," added the Chouan, pretending 
 to count up his comrades, ** three hundred crowns 
 of six francs for your ransom. Neutrality is well 
 worth that." 
 
 " Three hundred crowns of six francs ! " repeated 
 the unfortunate banker, Pille-Miche and Coupiau in 
 chorus, but with widely different intonations. 
 
 " Alas ! my dear monsieur," said D'Orgemont, '* I 
 am ruined. The forced loan of a hundred millions 
 made by this devilish Republic, which rates me at an 
 enormous figure, has drained me dry."
 
 84 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " How much did your Republic call on you for? " 
 
 " A thousand crowns, my dear monsieur," re- 
 plied the banker, with a piteous expression, hoping 
 to obtain a remission. 
 
 " If your Republic extorts forced loans from you 
 to that extent, you see that you have everything to 
 gain by joining us ; our government is less expen- 
 sive. Pray, is three hundred crowns too much for 
 your skin.? " 
 
 " Where shall I get them? " 
 
 " In your strong-box," said Pille-Miche. "And 
 see that your crowns aren't clipped or we'll clip 
 your nails in the fire ! " 
 
 " Where shall I pay them to you? " asked D'Or- 
 gemont. 
 
 " Your country house at Fougeres isn't far from 
 Gibarry's farm where my cousin Galope-Chopine 
 lives, otherwise called Tall Cibot ; you can hand 
 them to him," said Pille-Miche. 
 
 " That isn't regular," said D'Orgemont. 
 
 " What do we care for that? " retorted Marche-a- 
 Terre. " Remember that if they're not in Galope- 
 Chopine's hands within a fortnight, we'll pay you 
 a little visit that will cure you of the gout, if you 
 have it in your feet. — As for you, Coupiau," he 
 continued turning to the driver, "your name after 
 this will be Mene-a-Bien " — Lead to Good. 
 
 With that the two Chouans disappeared. The 
 passenger returned to the carriage, which thanks to 
 Coupiau's whip, rattled away swiftly toward Fou- 
 geres.
 
 THE CHOUANS 85 
 
 ** If you'd had any weapons," said Coupiau, " we 
 might have defended ourselves a little better." 
 
 "Idiot, I have ten thousand francs!" replied 
 D'Orgemont, pointing to his heavy shoes. "Can 
 a man defend himself with such a sum as that about 
 him ? " 
 
 M^ne-a-Bien scratched his ear and looked behind, 
 but his new associates had entirely disappeared. 
 
 Hulot and his soldiers stopped at Ernee to leave 
 the wounded at the hospital in that little town ; then 
 they pushed on and reached Mayenne without any 
 untoward incident. The next morning all the com- 
 mandant's doubts as to the progress of the mes- 
 senger were solved, for intelligence was received of 
 the robbery of the diligence. A few days later, the 
 authorities sent to Mayenne a sufficient number of 
 patriot conscripts to enable Hulot to fill up the ranks 
 of his demi-brigade. Ere long, depressing rumors 
 of the progress of the insurrection followed one an- 
 other in rapid succession. The uprising was gen- 
 eral in all the localities where the Vendeans and the 
 Chouans had established the principal centres of in- 
 cendiarism in the last war. In Bretagne the Royal- 
 ists had obtained possession of Pontorson, in order 
 to establish communication with the sea. The little 
 town of Saint- James, between Pontorson and Fou- 
 g^res, had been taken by them and they seemed 
 inclined to make it their headquarters for the mo- 
 ment, their centre of supplies and operations. From 
 that point they could correspond without danger 
 with Normandie and Morbihan. The subaltern
 
 86 THE CHOUANS 
 
 leaders were scouring the three provinces to arouse 
 the partisans of the monarchy and give consistency 
 and strength to their enterprise. 
 
 These manoeuvres corresponded with the news 
 from La Vendee, where the whole country was kept 
 in a state of agitation by similar intrigues under the 
 influence of four celebrated chiefs, Abbe Vernal, the 
 Comte de Fontaine, Messieurs de Chatillon and 
 Suzannet. The Chevalier de Valois, the Marquis 
 d'Esgrignon, the Troisvilles were said to be their 
 correspondents in the department of Orne. The 
 real leader in the extended plan of operations, which 
 was unfolded slowly but in a manner to cause 
 serious apprehension, was the Gars, a name be- 
 stowed by the Chouans on Monsieur le Marquis de 
 Montauran at the time of his debarkation. The in- 
 formation transmitted to the ministers by Hulot 
 proved to be exact in every particular. The au- 
 thority of this leader, sent from without, was 
 instantly recognized. Indeed the marquis acquired 
 sufficient influence over the Chouans to make them 
 understand the real object of the war, and to con- 
 vince them that the excesses of which they were 
 frequently guilty, dishonored the noble cause they 
 had embraced. The natural temerity, the courage, 
 the self-possession, the great ability of the young 
 nobleman raised the hopes of the enemies of the 
 Republic and stirred the sombre excitement of those 
 districts to such a point that even the least zealous 
 cooperated in preparing to strike a decisive blow for 
 the prostrate monarchy. Hulot received no reply
 
 THE CHOUANS 87 
 
 to the reiterated reports and requests he forwarded 
 to Paris. That extraordinary silence denoted with- 
 out doubt some new crisis in the affairs of the 
 Revolution. 
 
 " I wonder if it's the same with governmental 
 matters as it is with requests for money," said the 
 old ofificer to his two friends; "do they throw all 
 the petitions into the waste-basket .'' " 
 
 But the report of the magical return of Genera! 
 Bonaparte and the events of the i8th Brumaire, soon 
 spread far and wide. Then the military com- 
 manders in the West understood the silence of min- 
 isters. Nevertheless, they were only the more im- 
 patient to be relieved from the responsibility that 
 weighed upon them, and they became very curious 
 to learn the measures that the new government pro- 
 posed to take. When they heard that General 
 Bonaparte had been chosen to be First Consul of 
 the Republic, the troops were rejoiced beyond 
 measure ; for the first time they saw one of them- 
 selves placed in control of the nation's affairs. 
 France, which had made an idol of the young gen- 
 eral, shivered with hope. The national energy re- 
 vived. The capital, tired of the prevailing gloom, 
 gave itself over to festivities and enjoyment, from 
 which it had so long been weaned. The first acts 
 of the Consulate were not calculated to weaken any 
 hope, and the genius of liberty did not take alarm. 
 The First Consul issued a proclamation to the 
 people of the West. Those eloquent harangues to 
 the masses, which were, so to speak, an invention
 
 88 THE CHOUANS 
 
 of Bonaparte, produced a prodigious effect in those 
 days of patriotism and miracles. His voice rang 
 through the world like the voice of a prophet, for 
 not one of his proclamations had as yet been fal- 
 sified by the result. 
 
 " Citizens, 
 
 " For tlie second time, impious war is kindling its fires in 
 the departments of the West. 
 
 " The authors of these disturbances are traitors in the pay 
 of England, or brigands who seek in civil discord naught but 
 plunder and impunity for their misdeeds. 
 
 " To such men, the government owes neither indulgence 
 nor a declaration of its principles. 
 
 " But there are citizens, dear to the heart of the country, 
 who have been seduced by their wiles ; to such citizens, en- 
 lightenment and the truth are due. 
 
 " Unjust laws have been promulgated and put in force ; 
 arbitrary acts have alarmed the security of the citizen and 
 liberty of conscience ; everywhere dangerous inscriptions on 
 the roll of emigre's have affected good citizens ; in short, some 
 important principles of social order have been violated. 
 
 " The Consuls declare that liberty of worship being guar- 
 anteed by the Constitution, the law of nth Prairial, year III., 
 which allows citizens the use of buildings intended for reli- 
 gious worship, shall be put in force. 
 
 " The government will forgive : it will meet repentance 
 with pardon, its indulgence will be absolute and unconditional; 
 but it will strike down whoever, after this declaration, shall 
 dare to resist the sovereignty of the nation." 
 
 "Well," said Hulot, after this consular harangue 
 had been read in public, " is that paternal enough 
 for you } And yet you'll find that not a single 
 Royalist brigand will change his opinion ! "
 
 THE CHOUANS 89 
 
 The commandant was right. The proclamation 
 served only to bind every man more tightly to his 
 party. A few days later, Hulot and his colleagues 
 received reinforcements. The new Minister of War 
 wrote them that General Brune was assigned to the 
 command of the troops in the west of France. 
 Hulot, whose experience was well known, was 
 vested temporarily with the command in the depart- 
 ments of Orne and Mayenne. Incredible activity 
 was soon manifest in all the proceedings of the gov- 
 ernment. A circular from the Minister of War and 
 the Minister of General Police announced that vigor- 
 ous measures had been taken to crush the insurrec- 
 tion at its root, and entrusted for execution to the 
 commanding officers of the military departments. 
 But the Chouans and Vendeans had already taken 
 advantage of the inaction of the Republic to inflame 
 the country districts and take entire possession of 
 them. Thereupon a new consular proclamation was 
 issued. This time the general spoke to the troops : 
 
 " Soldiers, 
 
 " Only brigands, Emigres and hirelings of England remain 
 in the West. 
 
 " The army consists of more than sixty thousand brave 
 men ; let me hear soon that the rebel leaders have ceased to 
 live. Glory is acquired only by fatiguing toil ; if it could be 
 acquired by maintaining headquarters in a great city, who 
 would be without it ? 
 
 " Soldiers, whatever rank you may hold in the army, the 
 gratitude of the nation awaits you. To be worthy of it, you 
 must defy the inclemency of the seasons, ice, snow, excessive
 
 QO THE CHOUANS 
 
 cold at night ; surprise your enemies at daybreak, and exter- 
 minate tlie vile wretches, the dishonor of the French name. 
 
 " Make a short, sharp campaign ; be inexorable to the 
 brigands, but maintain strict discipline. 
 
 " National Guards, assist with your arms the efforts of the 
 troops of the line. 
 
 " If you know of any men among you who are partisans of 
 the brigands, arrest them ! Let them find shelter nowhere 
 from the soldier who pursues them ; and if there be traitors 
 who dare to receive and defend them, let them die by their 
 sides ! " 
 
 " What a fellow ! " cried Hulot ; " he's just as he 
 was in the army of Italy, he rings for mass and says 
 it. That's talking, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, but he talks alone and in his own name," 
 said Gerard, beginning to take alarm at the results 
 of the i8th Brumaire. 
 
 " By the sacred sentry-box ! what difference 
 does that make so long as he's a soldier ? " cried 
 Merle. 
 
 A few steps away, several soldiers had gathered 
 in a group in front of the proclamation affixed to the 
 wall. But, as not one of them knew how to read, 
 they looked at it, some with an indifferent air, others 
 with curiosity, while two or three tried to find 
 among the passers-by a citizen who had the look of 
 a scholar. 
 
 " Just look and see what that scrap of paper says, 
 Clef-des-Cceurs," said Beau-Pied slyly to his com- 
 rade. 
 
 " It's very easy to guess," replied Clef-des- 
 Coeurs.
 
 THE CHOUANS 9I 
 
 At that all eyes were turned on the two friends, 
 who were always ready to play their parts. 
 
 "Why, look," continued Clef-des-Coeurs, point- 
 ing to the top of the proclamation, where there was 
 a rough vignette, on which, within a few days, the 
 level of 1793 was replaced by a pair of compasses. 
 "That means that we fellows must march straight 
 ahead ! They've put a pair of compasses there, 
 always open ; that's an emblem." 
 
 " It isn't becoming to you, my boy, to play the 
 scholar ! That's what they call a problem. I served 
 in the artillery first," added Beau-Pied ; " my officers 
 didn't have anything else to eat but problems." 
 
 " It's an emblem." 
 
 "It's a problem." 
 
 " Let's bet on it ! " 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 "Your German pipe." 
 
 "Done! " 
 
 " Asking your pardon, adjutant, isn't that an em- 
 blem and not a problem ? " said Clef-des-Coeurs to 
 Gerard, who was pensively following Hulot and 
 Merle. 
 
 " It's both," he replied gravely. 
 
 " The adjutant is laughing at us," said Beau- 
 Pied. " That paper says that our general in Italy 
 is promoted to consul, which is a fine rank, and that 
 we're going to have capes and shoes."
 
 II 
 
 f 
 
 FOUCHE'S IDEA 
 
 Late in the month of Brumaire, one morning 
 while Hulot was drilling his demi-brigade — the whole 
 command being concentrated at Mayenne in obedi- 
 ence to orders from his superiors — a messenger 
 from Alenfon arrived with despatches, during the 
 reading of which his face expressed the most intense 
 annoyance. 
 
 "Come, forward!" he shouted angrily, putting 
 the papers in the top of his hat. " Two companies 
 will prepare to march with me to Mortagne. The 
 Chouans are there. — You will accompany me," he 
 said to Merle and Gerard. " If I understand a word 
 of my despatch, may I be ennobled ! Perhaps I'm 
 no better than an idiot, but never mind — ^forward ! 
 There's no time to lose." 
 
 "What is there so savage in that pouch, com- 
 mandant ? " said Merle, touching with the toe of his 
 boot the official envelope of the despatch. 
 
 (93)
 
 94 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dieii! nothing, except that they're 
 making fools of us ! " 
 
 When the commandant allowed that military ex- 
 pression, to which we have already called attention, 
 to escape him, it always foreboded a tempest and 
 the varying intonations of voice in which it was 
 uttered were, to the demi-brigade, a sure thermom- 
 eter of their leader's patience ; and the old soldier's 
 frankness had made it so easy to read his mind, 
 that the very drummers soon learned to know their 
 Hulot by heart, by noticing the variations of the 
 little grimace with which the commandant drew back 
 his cheek and winked his eyes. On this occasion 
 the tone of deep anger in which he spoke made his 
 two friends silent and circumspect. Even the marks 
 of the small-pox that seamed that warlike face looked 
 deeper and his complexion darker than usual. His 
 thick braided cue having fallen in front of one 
 shoulder when he put on his three-cornered hat, 
 Hulot threw it back so fiercely that the braids were 
 disarranged. However, as he then stood motionless 
 with fists clenched, arms tightly folded across his 
 breast and bristling moustache, Gerard ventured to 
 ask : 
 
 " Do we start at once .? " 
 
 " Yes, if the knapsacks are filled," he grumbled. 
 
 ** They are." 
 
 "Carry arms ! File left, forward, march ! " 
 shouted Gerard at a sign from his chief. 
 
 The drums took their places at the head of the 
 two companies designated by Gerard. At the beat
 
 THE CHOUANS 95 
 
 of the drum, the commandant, who was lost in 
 thought, seemed to awake, and he marched out of 
 the town accompanied by his two friends, to whom 
 he said not a word. Merle and Gerard exchanged 
 glances several times as if to ask : " Will he keep 
 us at a distance long ? " And, as they marched, 
 they stealthily watched Hulot, who continued to 
 mutter vague words between his teeth. Several 
 times the soldiers heard what sounded like oaths, 
 but not one of them dared utter a word, for, when 
 occasion required, they could all maintain the strict 
 discipline to which the troopers formerly commanded 
 by Bonaparte in Italy were accustomed. Most of 
 them were, like Hulot himself, a part of what was 
 left of the famous battalions that capitulated at 
 Mayence under a promise that they should not be 
 employed on the frontiers, and the army had dubbed 
 them the Mayencais. It would be hard to find sol- 
 diers and officers who understood one another better. 
 On the day following their departure, Hulot and 
 his two friends found themselves early in the morn- 
 ing on the Alengion road, about a league from the 
 last named city toward Mortagne, where the road 
 skirts the pastures watered by the Sarthe. Pictur- 
 esque fields succeeded one another on the left, 
 while, on the right, the dense woods, which are 
 really an outlying part of the great forest of Menil- 
 Broust, form, if we may venture to borrow the ex- 
 pression from the painter's language, a set-off to the 
 lovely river landscape. The sides of the road are 
 bordered by ditches, the dirt from which, being con-
 
 96 THE CHOUANS 
 
 stantly thrown back upon the fields, forms high 
 banks crowned with ajottcs, the name given to the 
 thorn-broom in the West. That plant, which grows 
 in thick bushes, furnishes excellent winter fodder 
 for horses and cattle ; but, until it was harvested, 
 the Chouans used to conceal themselves behind the 
 dark green clumps. Those banks and those clumps 
 of thorn-broom, which tell the traveller that he is 
 approaching Bretagne, made that part of the road, 
 at the time of which we write, as dangerous as it 
 was lovely. The perils which threatened travellers 
 from Mortagne to Alenfon and from Aleng-on to 
 Mayenne were the cause of Hulot's departure from 
 the latter place ; and there, at last, the secret of his 
 indignation escaped him. He was escorting at the 
 time, an old mail-coach drawn by post horses, which 
 his tired soldiers compelled to move very slowly. 
 The companies of Blues belonging to the garrison of 
 Mortagne, who had escorted the tumble-down ve- 
 hicle to the limit of their beat, where Hulot had met 
 them to replace them in that service, justly called 
 by the soldiers a patriotic bore, had returned to 
 Mortagne and were visible in the distance like black 
 spots. One of the old Republican's two companies 
 marched a few paces behind the conveyance and 
 the other in front. Hulot, who was walking with 
 Merle and Gerard, half-way between the carriage 
 and the advance guard, suddenly exclaimed : 
 
 " Mille tonnerres! would you believe that the gen- 
 eral sent us from Mayenne to escort the two petti- 
 coats in yonder old van ? "
 
 THE CHOUANS 97 
 
 "Why, commandant, when we took up our posi- 
 tion just now near thecitizenesses," replied Gerard, 
 " you saluted them with what didn't seem to me a 
 very contemptuous air." 
 
 " Ah ! there's the shame of it. To think that 
 those fops in Paris urge us to take the greatest care 
 of their damned women ! Isn't it a disgrace to 
 make good, honest patriots like us dance attend- 
 ance on a petticoat .-' For my part, I follow a 
 straight road and I don't like the way others zig- 
 zag. When I saw that Danton had mistresses and 
 Barras had mistresses, I said to them : * Citizens, 
 when the Republic called on you to govern, it didn't 
 mean to authorize the amusements of the old 
 regime.' You'll say that wives — Oh ! men have 
 wives ! that's true. Good comrades, you see, 
 must have wives and good wives. But there's no 
 use talking when the danger has come. What good 
 did it do to sweep away the abuses of the old days, 
 if the patriots are going to begin them all again ? 
 Look at the First Consul, there's a man for you ; no 
 women, always occupied with his affairs. I would 
 bet my left moustache that he knows nothing about 
 the foolish business they've set us at here." 
 
 ** Faith, commandant," laughed Merle, " I saw the 
 end of the nose of the young lady, who is crouching 
 on the back seat of the coach, and I confess that I 
 think anybody might, without shame, feel as I do, 
 an itching to loiter around the carriage and try and 
 manage a littleconversation with the fair travellers." 
 
 "Look out for yourself. Merle!" said Gerard. 
 7
 
 98 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " The hooded birds are attended by a citizen who is 
 crafty enough to catch you in a trap." 
 
 " Who ? that dandy, whose little eyes are con- 
 stantly travelling from one side of the road to the 
 other as if he saw Chouans there ; that fop, whose 
 legs you can hardly see, and who looks exactly like 
 a duck sticking out of a pie when his horse's legs 
 are hidden by the carriage ! If that dodo ever pre- 
 vents my caressing the pretty linnet — " 
 
 " Duck ! linnet ! Oh ! my poor Merle, you have 
 flying things on the brain. But don't trust the duck. 
 His green eyes look to me as treacherous as a 
 snake's and as cunning as those of a wife forgiving her 
 husband. 1 distrust the Chouans less than these 
 lawyers with faces like decanters of lemonade." 
 
 "Pshaw!" cried Merle gayly, "with the com- 
 mandant's leave I'll risk it ! That woman has eyes 
 like stars, one can afford to stake everything to get 
 a look at them." 
 
 " The youngster's caught," said Gerard to the 
 commandant, " he is beginning to talk like an idiot." 
 
 Hulot grinned, shrugged his shoulders and replied : 
 
 " I advise him to sniff the soup before eating it." 
 
 "Good Merle," continued Gerard, judging from 
 his slow pace that he was manoeuvring to allow the 
 coach to overtake him gradually, "what a light- 
 hearted fellow he is ! He's the only man I know 
 who can laugh over a comrade's death without 
 being accused of lack of feeling," 
 
 " He's the typical French soldier," said Hulot 
 gravely.
 
 THE CHOUANS 99 
 
 " Oh ! look at him pulling his epaulets well up on 
 his shoulders so as to show them he's a captain," 
 laughed Gerard ; " as if rank cut any figure in such 
 matters." 
 
 The vehicle toward which the officer was gravi- 
 tating did in fact contain two women, one of whom 
 seemed to be the other's servant. 
 
 " These women always travel by twos," said 
 Hulot. 
 
 A short, thin man was riding by the carriage, 
 sometimes in front, sometimes behind ; but, al- 
 though he seemed to be in attendance upon the two 
 privileged passengers, no one had as yet seen him 
 speak to them. This silence, a manifestation of dis- 
 dain or of respect, the numerous articles of baggage, 
 the boxes of the lady whom the commandant called 
 a princess, — everything, even to the costume of her 
 mounted attendant, had contributed to stir Hulot's 
 bile. The male stranger's costume was a perfect 
 picture of the fashion which was responsible for the 
 contemporary caricatures of the dandy. Let the 
 reader fancy this individual arrayed in a coat with 
 skirts so short in front that five or six inches of 
 waistcoat were visible below them ; and so long be- 
 hind that they resembled a cod-fish's tail, a term 
 which was used at this time to designate them. An 
 enormous cravat was twisted around his neck so 
 many times that the small head emerging from that 
 labyrinth of muslin almost justified Captain Merle's 
 gastronomic simile. He wore tight-fitting trousers 
 and boots a La Suvaroff. An immense blue and
 
 ICX) THE CHOUANS 
 
 white cameo did duty as a shirt pin. Two watch 
 chains issued in parallel lines from his belt ; his hair, 
 hanging in corkscrew curls on both sides of his face, 
 almost concealed his forehead. Lastly, as a final em- 
 bellishment, the collar of his shirt and his coat came 
 up so high that his head seemed to be stuck like a 
 bouquet in a paper horn. Add to these pitiful acces- 
 sories, each of which clashed with every other, 
 producing nothing like uniformity, the burlesque 
 contrast of color in the yellow trousers, the red 
 waistcoat, the cinnamon coat, and you will have a 
 faithful picture of the supreme bon tofi which all the 
 dandies sought to attain at the beginning of the Con- 
 sulate. This altogether singular costume seemed to 
 have been invented as a test of gracefulness, and to 
 prove that there is nothing so absurd that fashion 
 will not bestow its sanction upon it. The horseman 
 seemed to be about thirty years old, but in reality 
 he was barely twenty-two ; perhaps his mature ap- 
 pearance was attributable to dissipation or to the 
 dangers of the time. Despite his charlatan-like 
 garb, his bearing betrayed a certain refinement of 
 manner by which one could see that he was a man 
 of good breeding. 
 
 When the captain approached the door of the 
 vehicle, the dandy seemed to divine his purpose and 
 favored it by slackening his horse's pace ; Merle, 
 who had bestowed a sardonic glance upon him, en- 
 countered one of those impenetrable faces, accus- 
 tomed by the vicissitudes of the Revolution to conceal 
 every sort of emotion, even the most trivial. The
 
 THE CHOUANS lOI 
 
 moment that the bent rim of the old three-cornered 
 hat and the captain's epaulet were spied by the 
 ladies, a voice of angelic sweetness asked : 
 
 *' Monsieur I'Officier, would you be kind enough 
 to tell us where we are now ? " 
 
 There is an inexpressible charm about a question 
 asked by an unknown traveller of the fair sex, the 
 smallest word seems to contain a whole adventure ; 
 but if the woman solicits protection in any sense of 
 the word, basing her claim thereto upon her weak- 
 ness and upon her ignorance of affairs, is not every 
 man slightly inclined to construct an impossible 
 fable wherein he fancies himself a happy lover ? 
 Thus the words "Monsieur I'Officier, " the court- 
 eous tone of the question, caused a strange feeling of 
 unrest in the captain's heart. He tried to examine 
 the fair traveller, but was grievously disappointed, 
 for a jealous veil concealed her features ; indeed he 
 could hardly see her eyes, which shone through the 
 gauze like onyxes in the sunshine. 
 
 " You are now about a league from Alengon, 
 madame." 
 
 " Alenfon, already ! " 
 
 And the unknown lady threw herself back or 
 rather allowed herself to fall back into her seat and 
 said nothing more. 
 
 **Alencon.?" repeated the other woman, appar- 
 ently waking from a nap. "You are going to see 
 once more the country — " 
 
 She glanced at the captain and checked herself. 
 Merle, disappointed in his hope of seeing the fair
 
 102 THE CHOUANS 
 
 stranger's face, set about examining her companion. 
 She was a young woman of about twenty-six, a 
 blonde, with a pretty figure and the fresh brilliant 
 complexion characteristic of the women of Valognes, 
 Bayeux and the neighborhood of Alengon, The ex- 
 pression of her blue eyes denoted firmness mingled 
 with affectionateness rather than keen intelligence. 
 She wore a common stuff dress. Her hair, unpre- 
 tentiously brushed back beneath a small cap of the 
 type worn by the women of Caux, gave a look of 
 charming simplicity to her face. Her bearing, al- 
 though it had not the conventional dignity of salons, 
 was not devoid of the natural dignity of a modest 
 young woman who can look back over her past life 
 without finding a single cause for regret. At a 
 glance. Merle recognized in her a lovely wild flower, 
 which, although transplanted to the hothouses of 
 Paris where so many withering rays of light and 
 heat are concentrated, had lost nothing of its pure 
 coloring or its rustic simplicity. The young wom- 
 an's artless manner and the modesty of her glance 
 apprized Merle that she desired no auditor. And, 
 when he moved away, the two strangers began in 
 undertones a conversation, the murmuring sound of 
 which barely reached his ear. 
 
 "You started so hurriedly," said the young 
 countrywoman, "that you didn't even take time to 
 dress. You look like a fright I Even if we're going 
 beyond Alenjon we absolutely must stop there to 
 dress you again." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! Francine ! " cried the stranirer.
 
 THE CHOUANS 
 
 103 
 
 " I beg your pardon? " 
 
 " That's the third attempt you have made to 
 learn the purpose and the goal of my journey." 
 
 "Have I said the slightest word to deserve that 
 reproach? " 
 
 ** Oh ! I have noticed your little game. Candid, 
 simple-minded creature that you are, you have taken 
 to strategy a little, after my pattern. You begin to 
 have a horror of being questioned. You are quite 
 right, my child. Of all known ways of extorting a 
 secret, that is, in my opinion, the most foolish." 
 
 "Very well," rejoined Francine, "as I can't 
 conceal anything from you, tell me frankly, Marie, 
 isn't your behavior enough to arouse the curiosity of 
 a saint? Yesterday morning without a sou, to-day 
 with your hands full of gold, they give you at Mor- 
 tagne the mail-coach that was robbed whose driver 
 was killed, you are escorted by government troops 
 and followed by a man whom 1 consider your evil 
 genius — " 
 
 " Who, Corentin? " queried the young stranger, 
 pronouncing the two words in two different tones, 
 laden with contempt which overflowed even in the 
 gesture with which she pointed to the horseman. 
 "Listen, Francine," she continued, "do you re- 
 member Patriote, that monkey I taught to imitate 
 Danton, and that amused us so much? " 
 
 "Yes, mademoiselle." 
 
 " Well, were you afraid of him? " 
 
 " He was chained." 
 
 " But Corentin is muzzled, my child."
 
 104 '^^^ CHOUANS 
 
 " We used to play with Patriote for hours at a 
 time, I know," said Francine, " but he always 
 ended by playing us some mean trick." 
 
 At that Francine threw herself hastily back in the 
 carriage beside her mistress, took her hands and 
 caressed them coaxingly, saying in an affectionate 
 voice : 
 
 " You have found me out, Marie, and still you 
 don't answer. How, after your profound sadness 
 that made me feel so bad, oh ! so bad, can you 
 within twenty-four hours become wild with gayety, 
 as when you talked about killing yourself? What 
 has caused this change? I have the right to ask 
 you for some little account of your heart. It be- 
 longs to me before anybody else in the world, for 
 nobody will ever love you more dearly than I do. 
 Tell me, mademoiselle." 
 
 ** Well, Francine, don't you see the secret of my 
 gayety all about you? Look at the yellow tufts of 
 those distant trees ; not one of them resembles the 
 others. Looking at them from this distance, 
 wouldn't you say it was some old chateau tapestry? 
 Look at those hedges behind which we may find 
 Chouans at any moment. When I look at that 
 thorn-broom I imagine I can see gun-barrels, I love 
 this constantly increasing peril that surrounds us. 
 Whenever the road looks particularly forbidding, I 
 expect to hear reports : then my heart beats fast, 
 and I feel a strange, unfamiliar sensation. It is 
 neither the trembling of fear nor the thrill of pleas- 
 ure ; no, it is something more than either, it is the
 
 THE CHOUANS 
 
 105 
 
 stirring of everything that lives and moves within 
 me, it is life ! Should I not be overjoyed to have a 
 little animation come into my life? " 
 
 " Oh ! you tell me nothing, cruel girl ! — Holy 
 Virgin," added Francine, sorrowfully raising her 
 eyes to the sky, " to whom will she confess, if she 
 keeps silent to me ? " 
 
 "Francine," rejoined the stranger gravely, "I 
 cannot tell you what enterprise I have in mind. 
 This time, it is horrible." 
 
 " Why do evil deliberately ? " 
 
 " What would you have ? I find myself thinking 
 as if I were fifty and acting as if I were fifteen ! 
 You have always been my reason, my poor child ; 
 but in this affair I must stifle the voice of conscience. 
 And," she added after a pause, sighing as she spoke, 
 " I do not succeed. Now, how do you suppose that 
 I can put myself in the hands of such a stern con- 
 fessor as you ? " 
 
 And she patted her hand softly. 
 
 '* Why ! when did I ever reprove you for any- 
 thing ? " cried Francine. " Any evil you may do 
 is forgiven. Yes, Sainte Anne d'Auray, to whom I 
 pray so often for your welfare, would give you ab- 
 solution for everything. And am I not here beside 
 you, on this road, without knowing where you're 
 going ? " 
 
 In her effusion of affection she kissed her hands. 
 
 "You can leave me," retorted Marie, "if your 
 
 conscience — " 
 
 " Nonsense, hold your tongue, madame," said
 
 I06 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Francine, with a little offended pout. " Oh ! won't 
 you tell me ? " 
 
 "I'll tell you nothing!" said the young lady in 
 a decided tone. " But, understand this — I hate this 
 undertaking more than I hate the man whose gilded 
 tongue explained it to me. I wish to be frank, so 1 
 will confess that I should not have fallen in with 
 their wishes, if I had not seen in this despicable 
 farce a possibility of a combination of terror and 
 love which tempted me. And then I did not want 
 to go from this lower world without having culled 
 the flowers I hope to find here, though I perish in 
 the attempt ! But remember, for the honor of my 
 memory, that, if I had been happy, the sight of their 
 great knife ready to fall on my neck would not have 
 induced me to accept a part in this tragedy — for it 
 is a tragedy. Now," she continued, with a gesture 
 of disgust, "if it should be given up, I should 
 throw myself instantly into the Sarthe ; and it 
 wouldn't be suicide, for I have never lived." 
 " Oh ! Blessed Virgin of Auray, forgive her ! " 
 " What are you afraid of ? The vapid vicissitudes 
 of domestic life do not kindle my passions, as you 
 know. That is a bad thing for a woman ; but my 
 soul has fashioned for itself a more exalted sensi- 
 bility, to endure sterner tests. I should have been, 
 perhaps, a gentle creature like you. Why have I 
 risen above or sunk below my sex ? Ah ! how 
 lucky General Bonaparte's wife is ! Look you, I 
 shall die young, as I have already reached the point 
 where 1 am not afraid to attend a party of pleasure
 
 THE CHOUANS I07 
 
 at which there is blood to drink, as poor Danton 
 used to say. But forget what 1 say ; it is the 
 woman of fifty who has been talking to you. Thank 
 God ! the girl of fifteen will soon appear again." 
 
 The young country girl shuddered. She alone 
 knew her mistress's impetuous and excitable dispo- 
 sition ; she alone was initiated into the secrets of that 
 soul rich in exalted ideas, into the sentiments of that 
 lovely creature who, thus far, had seen life pass 
 before her like an intangible shadow that she was 
 always trying to seize. Having sown freely and 
 reaped no harvest, this woman had remained a virgin ; 
 but, annoyed by a multitude of thwarted desires, 
 weary of a struggle without an adversary, she had now 
 reached a point at which, in her despair, she pre- 
 ferred good to evil when it presented itself as a 
 source of enjoyment, evil to good when it offered a 
 touch of poesy, poverty to mediocrity as being some- 
 thing greater, the dark and unknown future of 
 death to a life poor in hope or even in suffering. 
 Never had so much powder been amassed to pro- 
 duce a spark, never such treasures for love to de- 
 vour, in fine, never was daughter of Eve moulded 
 with more gold in the clay. Francine watched like 
 a terrestrial angel over this being in whom she 
 adored absolute perfection, believing that she should 
 fulfil a divine mission if she preserved her for the 
 chorus of seraphim, whence she seemed to be ex- 
 cluded as an expiation for a sin of pride. 
 
 "There's the Alengon steeple," said the horse- 
 man, riding up to the carriage.
 
 I08 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " I see it," replied the young lady curtly. 
 
 " Ah ! yes," said he, drawing back with servile 
 submission, despite his chagrin. 
 
 " Faster, faster," said the lady to the postilion. 
 " Now there is nothing to fear. Go at a fast trot or 
 a gallop, if you can. Aren't we on the pavements 
 of Alenfon ? " 
 
 As they passed the commandant, she called to 
 him in a sweet voice : 
 
 " We shall meet at the inn, commandant. Come 
 and see me there ! " 
 
 "That's it!" retorted the commandant. "'At 
 the inn ! Come and see me ! ' That's a fine way 
 to talk to the commander of a demi-brigade ! " 
 
 And he shook his fist at the carriage as it rolled 
 rapidly along the road. 
 
 " Don't complain, commandant, she has your 
 general's commission in her sleeve," laughed Co- 
 rentin, who was trying to put his horse to a gallop 
 to overtake the carriage. 
 
 " Ah ! I won't allow myself to be made a fool of 
 by those blockheads," grumbled Hulot to his two 
 friends. " I'd rather throw a general's uniform into 
 the ditch than earn it in a bed. What do those 
 devils want ? Can you people make anything out 
 of it?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes," said Merle, " 1 know that she's the 
 loveliest woman I ever saw ! I don't think you un- 
 derstand metaphor. Perhaps she's the First Con- 
 sul's wife." 
 
 " Bah ! the First Consul's wife is an old woman.
 
 THE CHOUANS 109 
 
 and that one is young," rejoined Hulot. " Besides, 
 the orders I received from the minister tell me that 
 her name is Mademoiselle de Verneuil. She's a ci- 
 devant. Do you suppose 1 don't know all about it ? 
 Before the Revolution they all plied that trade ; in 
 those days a man became a colonel in double time 
 and six motions ; all he had to do was to say : My 
 heart! to them two or three times." 
 
 While each soldier in the escort was opening his 
 compasses, to use the commandant's expression, the 
 miserable vehicle which did duty as a mail-coach 
 had drawn up before the Hotel des Trois Maiires, 
 situated in the middle of the main street of Alenfon. 
 The clatter of the unwieldy conveyance brought the 
 landlord out on the doorstep. No one in Alengon 
 could have anticipated that the mail-coach would 
 stop at the Trois Maures ; but the terrible occurrence 
 at Mortagne caused it to be followed by such a 
 crowd, that the two passengers, in order to evade 
 the general curiosity, hurried into the kitchen, the 
 inevitable reception-room in public-houses through- 
 out the West. The landlord was about to follow 
 them after looking over the carriage, when the 
 postilion laid his hand on his arm. 
 
 " One moment. Citizen Brutus," said he, " there's 
 an escort of Blues. As there's no driver nor any 
 despatches, 1 am the one who brought the citizenesses 
 to you ; they'll doubtless pay like ci-devant prin- 
 cesses ; and so — " 
 
 " And so we'll have a glass of wine together 
 directly, my boy," said the host.
 
 no THE CHOUANS 
 
 Having cast a glance around the smoke-blackened 
 kitchen and at a table bloodstained by raw meats, 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil fled into the adjoining 
 room as lightly as a bird, for she dreaded the sight 
 and smell of the kitchen as much as the inquisitive- 
 ness of a slovenly chef and a little fat woman who 
 were already gazing curiously at her. 
 
 " What are we going to do, wife ? " said the host. 
 " Who the devil could 'a' thought we'd have such a 
 crowd in these days ? That woman will lose pa- 
 tience before I can serve her a decent dinner. Faith, 
 I have a good idea : as long as they're comme ilfaut 
 folks, I'm going to propose to 'em to join the guest 
 we have upstairs, eh .^ " 
 
 When he went in search of the new arrival, he 
 found only Francine, to whom he said in a low voice, 
 leading her to the farther end of the kitchen on the 
 courtyard side, out of everybody's hearing : 
 
 " If you ladies wish to be served by yourselves, 
 as I suppose you do, I have a very delicious meal 
 all ready for a lady and her son, 1 don't believe 
 they'll refuse to share their breakfast with you," he 
 added mysteriously, "they're people of quality." 
 
 The host had hardly finished the last sentence 
 when he felt a slight blow with a whip-handle on 
 his back ; he turned sharply around and saw behind 
 him a short, thickset man who had emerged noise- 
 lessly from an adjoining cabinet, and whose appear- 
 ance had frozen the fat woman, the chef and his 
 scullion stiff with terror. The host turned pale as 
 he looked. The little man shook away the hair that
 
 THE CHOUANS III 
 
 entirely concealed his eyes and forehead, stood on 
 tiptoe to reach the innkeeper's ear and said : 
 
 ** You know what the slightest imprudence or a 
 denunciation would be worth to you, and what kind 
 of money we pay for them. We are generous — " 
 
 He supplemented his words with a gesture which 
 was a terrifying commentary thereon. Although 
 the rotund body of the host prevented Francine from 
 seeing this individual, she overheard a few words of 
 his muttered sentences, and stood as if struck by 
 lightning when she recognized the raucous tones of 
 a Breton voice. Amid the general terror she darted 
 toward the little man, but he, seeming to move with 
 the agility of a wild beast, was already going out 
 through a side door opening on the courtyard. Fran- 
 cine thought she must have been mistaken in her con- 
 jectures, for she saw only the black and tawny skin 
 of a bear of medium size. She ran to the window 
 in amazement. Through the smoke clouded glass 
 she looked at the stranger who was walking slowly 
 toward the stable. Before going in, he turned two 
 black eyes up to the first floor of the inn, and then 
 upon the mail-coach, as if he wished to make some 
 important observation to a friend concerning that 
 vehicle. Despite his skin garments, and aided by 
 this movement which enr.bled her to see his face, as 
 well as by his enormous whip and trailing gait — 
 although he could be agile enough on occasion, — 
 Francine recognized the Chouan called Marche-a- 
 Terre ; she watched him, with some difficulty on 
 account of the darkness of the stable, as he lay down
 
 112 THE CHOUANS 
 
 on the straw in a position from which he could 
 see everything that took place in the inn. He was 
 huddled up in such a way that the shrewdest spy, 
 close at hand as well as at a distance, might easily 
 have taken him for one of the great dogs that lie 
 asleep, curled up like a ball, with their heads rest- 
 ing on their paws. 
 
 Marche-a-Terre's conduct satisfied Francine that 
 the Chouan had not recognized her. In the delicate 
 position in which her mistress was placed, she did 
 not know whether she ought to be glad or sorry on 
 that account. But the mysterious connection that 
 existed between the Chouan's threatening remark 
 and the host's suggestion to herself — which latter 
 was a common enough occurrence among inn- 
 keepers, who always try to kill two birds with one 
 stone, — pricked her curiosity ; she left the dirty 
 window through which she had been looking at the 
 black shapeless mass that indicated the station oc- 
 cupied by Marche-a-Terre in the darkness, turned 
 to the innkeeper and found him in the attitude of a 
 man who has made a false step and does not know 
 how to draw back. The Chouan's gesture had 
 turned the poor man to stone. Everyone in the 
 West was aware of the cruel refinements of torture 
 with which the King's Chasseurs punished those 
 who were suspected of nothing worse than indiscre- 
 tion : and the host fancied he could already feel 
 their knives on his neck. The chef looked with 
 terror at the glowing coals of the fire at which they 
 often warmed the feet of their denouncers. The
 
 THE CHOUANS II3 
 
 short, fat woman held a cooking knife in one hand, 
 in the other a potato half peeled, and stared at her 
 husband with a dazed expression. Even the little 
 scullion was trying to fathom the secret, unknown 
 to him, of all this silent terror. Francine's curiosity 
 was naturally augmented by this mute scene, the 
 principal actor in which, though absent, was seen 
 by all. The girl was flattered by the Chouan's ter- 
 rible power, and, although it was hardly consist- 
 ent with her character to indulge in the tricks of a 
 lady's maid, she was too deeply interested this time 
 in solving the mystery, not to make the most of her 
 advantages, 
 
 "Very well, mademoiselle accepts your offer," 
 she said gravely to the host, who started at the 
 words as if suddenly awakened from a sound sleep. 
 
 "What offer?" he asked with unfeigned 
 surprise. 
 
 "What offer?" echoed Corentin, entering the 
 room. 
 
 "What offer?" demanded Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil. 
 
 " What offer ? " queried a fourth personage, who 
 was on the lowest step of the staircase and stepped 
 lightly into the room as he spoke. 
 
 " Why, to breakfast with some persons of distinc- 
 tion," replied Francine testily. 
 
 " Of distinction," rejoined the latest arrival in a 
 
 biting, ironical voice. " That, my dear man, sounds 
 
 to me like a wretched ale-house joke ; but if this 
 
 young citizeness is she whom you propose giving us 
 
 8
 
 114 ™E CHOUANS 
 
 for table companion, why we should be mad to re- 
 fuse, my good man," he added, glancing at Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil. " In my mother's absence, I 
 accept." And he laid his hand on the stupefied 
 innkeeper's shoulder. 
 
 The graceful nonchalance of youth disguised the 
 insolent haughtiness of these words, which naturally 
 drew the attention of all the actors in this scene to 
 the newcomer. The innkeeper thereupon assumed 
 the attitude of Pilate trying to wash his hands of 
 the death of Jesus Christ ; he stepped back to his 
 stout wife and whispered in her ear : 
 
 " You are my witness that if anything happens, 
 it won't be my fault. However," he added, in a 
 still lower tone, "go and tell Monsieur Marche-^- 
 Terre what's going on." 
 
 The traveller, who was a young man of medium 
 height, wore a blue coat, and long black gaiters 
 which reached above his knee over a pair of blue 
 broadcloth trousers. This simple uniform, without 
 epaulets, was that of the pupils of the Ecole Poly- 
 technique. At a single glance. Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil detected beneath that sombre costume the 
 distinguished bearing, the indefinable something in- 
 dicative of noble birth. Although the young man's 
 face seemed ordinary enough at first glance, it soon 
 attracted attention by the conformation of certain 
 features wherein was revealed a mind capable of 
 great things. His bronzed complexion, light, curly 
 hair, sparkling blue eyes, sharp nose, graceful, easy 
 carriage — everything about him indicated a man
 
 THE CHOUANS II5 
 
 whose life was guided by exalted ideas, and who 
 was accustomed to command. But the most char- 
 acteristic signs of his genius were found in a chin a 
 la Bonaparte, and in his lower lip which joined the 
 upper with the graceful curve of the acanthus leaf 
 under the Corinthian capital. Nature had endowed 
 those two features with irresistible charm. 
 
 " This young man is singularly distinguished look- 
 ing for a Republican," said Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 to herself. 
 
 To see all this at a glance, to feel her pulses thrill 
 with the desire to please, to turn her head gently 
 aside, to smile coquettishly, to discharge one of the 
 soft, velvety glances that reanimate a heart dead to 
 love, to veil her great black eyes behind their lids, 
 whose thick lashes made a dark line on her face ; to 
 seek her most melodious tones in order to impart an 
 irresistible charm to the trite phrase : " We are 
 greatly obliged to you, monsieur " — all this manoeuv- 
 ring did not consume the time required to describe 
 it. Then Mademoiselle de Verneuil, turning to the 
 host, asked to be shown to her room, discovered the 
 staircase and disappeared with Francine, leaving 
 the stranger to guess whether that reply denoted an 
 acceptance or a refusal of his invitation. 
 
 " Who is that woman ? " the pupil of the Ecole 
 Polytechnique hastily inquired of the speechless and 
 more and more bewildered host. 
 
 "She is Citizeness Verneuil," replied Corentin 
 sharply, eying the young man with a jealous glance, 
 ** a ci-devant ; what business have you with her } "
 
 Il6 THE CHOUANS 
 
 The stranger, who was humming a Republican bal- 
 lad, cast a haughty glance at Corentin. For a mo- 
 ment the two young men glared at each other like 
 two roosters about to fight, and in that moment 
 hatred was sown between them forever. Coren- 
 tin's green eye was as full of malevolence and 
 treachery as the young soldier's blue eye was frank 
 and honest ; the manners of the one were innately 
 noble, the other's cringing and servile ; one stood 
 erect, the other grovelled ; one commanded respect, 
 the other strove to obtain it ; one seemed to say : 
 "Let us win the fight!" the other: "Let us 
 divide ! " 
 
 "Is Citizen du Gua Saint-Cyr here?" said a 
 peasant, entering the room. 
 
 " What do you want with him ? " asked the young 
 man, going forward to meet him. 
 
 The peasant bowed low and handed him a letter, 
 which the young man threw into the fire after read- 
 ing it. He made no reply save an inclination of the 
 head and the man took his leave. 
 
 " You come from Paris, doubtless, citizen ? " said 
 Corentin, walking toward the stranger with con- 
 siderable ease of manner and a submissive, oily air 
 that Citizen du Gua seemed to find insupportable. 
 
 " Yes," he replied shortly. 
 
 " And you are promoted to some rank in the 
 artillery, 1 presume ? " 
 
 " No, citizen, in the navy." 
 
 "Ah! you are on your way to Brest.-'" asked 
 Corentin in an indifferent tone.
 
 THE CHOUANS II7 
 
 But the young sailor turned quickly on his heel 
 without replying, and soon gave the lie to the fair 
 hopes that his face had led Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil to form. He busied himself about his break- 
 fast with childish zeal, questioned the chef and the 
 hostess about their receipts, expressed his amaze- 
 ment at provincial habits, like a Parisian torn from 
 his enchanted shell, and turned up his nose like a 
 dainty girl ; in short, the strength of character exhib- 
 ited by his acts was in inverse proportion to that 
 denoted by his face and his manners. Corentin 
 smiled pityingly at the wry face he made when he 
 tasted the best Normandy cider, 
 
 ** Pah ! " he cried, " how can you people drink 
 that stuff ? There's food and drink too in it. The 
 Republic is quite right to be suspicious of a province 
 where they knock off the grapes with poles, and 
 shoot travellers from ambush on the highroads. 
 Don't put a carafe of that medicine on my table, but 
 give us honest red and white Bordeaux. Above all 
 things, go and see if there's a good fire upstairs. 
 These people seem to me to be very backward in 
 the matter of civilization. — Ah ! " he continued with 
 a sigh, " there's but one Paris in the world, and it's 
 a great pity one can't take it to sea ! What, old 
 spoil-sauce," he said to the chef , "are you putting 
 vinegar in that chicken fricassee when you have 
 lemons there ? — As for you, mine hostess, you gave 
 me such coarse sheets that I didn't close my eyes all 
 night." 
 
 Then he began to play with a great cane, exe-
 
 Il8 THE CHOUANS 
 
 cuting with puerile care, evolutions in which a greater 
 or less degree of grace and adroitness indicated the 
 more or less honorable rank that a young man oc- 
 cupied in the class of dandies. 
 
 " Do they expect to restore the navy of the Re- 
 public with such fops as that ? " said Corentin con- 
 fidentially to the landlord, scrutinizing his face care- 
 fully. 
 
 " That man," said the young sailor in the land- 
 lady's ear, " is some spy of Fouche's. He has 
 police written on his face, and I would swear that 
 that spot on his chin is Paris mud. But tit for — " 
 
 At that moment a lady whom the sailor rushed to 
 meet with all the external signs of deep respect, 
 entered the inn kitchen. 
 
 "Come, come, dear mamma," he said. "In 
 your absence I believe I have enlisted some table 
 companions." 
 
 "Table companions," said she, " what madness!" 
 
 " It's Mademoiselle de Verneuil," he replied in an 
 undertone. 
 
 " She died on the scaffold after the Savenay 
 affair ; she had gone to Le Mans to save her brother, 
 the Prince de Loudon," said his mother hastily. 
 
 "You are in error, madame," said Corentin 
 softly, emphasizing the word madame; " there are 
 two Demoiselles de Verneuil, great families always 
 have several branches." 
 
 The newcomer, surprised at this familiarity, drew 
 back a few steps to examine her unexpected inter- 
 locutor ; she gazed fixedly at him with her black
 
 THE CHOUANS Iig 
 
 eyes overflowing with the keen sagacity so natural 
 to women, and seemed to be trying to conjecture 
 what interest he could have in asserting the con- 
 tinued existence of Mademoiselle de Verneuil. At 
 the same time Corentin, who was stealthily scru- 
 tinizing the lady, mentally deprived her of all the 
 pleasures of maternity and accorded her those of 
 love ; he gallantly denied that a woman whose 
 dazzling skin, heavy arched eyebrows and long 
 thick lashes aroused his admiration, and whose 
 abundant black hair arranged in two bands over her 
 forehead set off the youthful charm of an intellectual 
 face — that such a woman could be so fortunate as to 
 have a son of twenty. The slight wrinkles on her 
 brow, far from denoting length of years, betrayed 
 the existence of youthful passions ; and if her pier- 
 cing eyes were slightly veiled, it was impossible to 
 say whether that condition was due to the fatigue of 
 travelling, or to too frequent indulgence in pleasure. 
 Lastly, Corentin noticed that the unknown was en- 
 veloped in a mantle of English material, and that 
 the shape of her hat — a foreign production doubtless 
 — belonged to none of the so-called Grecian styles 
 which then controlled Parisian toilets. 
 
 Corentin was one of those individuals whose na- 
 tures lead them always to suspect evil rather than 
 good, and he instantly conceived doubts as to the 
 good citizenship of the two travellers. For her part, 
 the lady, who had with equal rapidity examined 
 Corentin's face and manners, turned to her son with 
 a significant expression which might be accurately
 
 I20 THE CHOUANS 
 
 translated by these words : " Who is this creature ? 
 Is he on our side ? " To this mental question the 
 young sailor replied by an attitude, a glance and a 
 wave of the hand which said : " Faith, I know noth- 
 ing about him, and he seems even more suspicious 
 to me than to you." Then, leaving his mother to 
 solve the mystery, he turned to the landlady and 
 whispered : 
 
 " Try to find out who that rascal is, and if he is 
 really in attendance on that young lady, and why? " 
 
 "So you are quite sure, citizen, that Mademoi- 
 selle de Verneuil is still in existence ? " said Madame 
 du Gua, looking at Corentin. 
 
 " She is in existence, madame, in flesh and blood, 
 as certainly as Madame du Gua Saint-Cyr." 
 
 This reply concealed a profound sarcasm, the 
 secret of which was known only to the lady herself, 
 and any other than she would have been discon- 
 certed by it. Her son suddenly glanced fixedly at 
 Corentin, who coolly drew his watch from his pocket, 
 apparently without suspicion of the confusion his 
 retort had caused. The lady, ill at ease and curious 
 to know at once whether his remark concealed any 
 perfidious purpose, or whether it was simply the 
 result of chance, said to Corentin in the most nat- 
 ural way : 
 
 " Mon Dieu, how unsafe the roads are ! We were 
 attacked by Chouans beyond Mortagne. My son 
 was very near being killed, he received two bullets 
 through his hat while defending me." 
 
 "What, madame, you were in the mail-coach
 
 THE CHOUANS 121 
 
 that the brigands robbed, notwithstanding the escort 
 — the same one that brought us here ? You must 
 know the vehicle then ! They told me, when I came 
 through Mortagne, that there were two thousand 
 Chouans engaged in the attack on the coach and 
 that everybody was killed, even the passengers. 
 That's the way history is written ! " 
 
 The drawling tone adopted by Corentin and his 
 imbecile expression made him resemble an habitue 
 of Petite-Provence, who should regretfully be con- 
 vinced of the falsity of a piece of political news. 
 
 "Alas! madame," he continued, "if travellers 
 are murdered so near Paris, judge how dangerous 
 the roads of Bretagne must be ! On my word, I 
 propose to return to Paris without going any 
 farther." 
 
 " Is Mademoiselle de Verneuil young and lovely?" 
 the lady asked the hostess, as if struck by a sudden 
 thought. 
 
 At that moment the host interrupted the conversa- 
 tion, which had an almost painful interest for the 
 three persons concerned, by announcing that break- 
 fast was served. The young sailor offered his hand 
 to his mother with a feigned familiarity that con- 
 firmed Corentin's suspicions, and said aloud as they 
 walked toward the stairs : 
 
 " Citizen, if you are in attendance on Citizeness 
 Verneuil and she accepts the landlord's suggestion, 
 don't hesitate to — " 
 
 Although the words were uttered in a hasty and 
 by no means engaging tone, Corentin went upstairs.
 
 122 THE CHOUANS 
 
 The young man pressed the lady's hand earnestly 
 when they were separated from the Parisian by 
 some seven or eight steps, and said in a low voice : 
 "See to what inglorious risks your imprudent 
 enterprises expose us ! If we are discovered, how 
 can we escape? And what a part you are making 
 me play ! "
 
 All three entered a room of considerable size. 
 One need not have travelled much in the West to 
 realize that the innkeeper had drawn upon his 
 choicest treasures and exerted himself to produce a 
 repast of no ordinary magnificence. The table was 
 laid with great care. The warmth of a huge fire had 
 driven the dampness out of the apartment. Nor 
 were the linen, the dishes and the chairs noticeably 
 dirty. Wherefore Corentin concluded that the 
 landlord had, to use a slang expression, cut himself 
 in four pieces in order to please the strangers. 
 
 " So these people aren't what they seem to be,'* 
 he said to himself. " That little fellow's a fox ; I 
 took him for a fool, but now 1 believe he's as shrewd 
 as 1 am myself." 
 
 The young sailor, his mother and Corentin 
 awaited the coming of Mademoiselle de Verneuil, 
 whom the host went to summon. But the fair 
 traveller did not appear. The pupil of the Ecole 
 Polytechnique suspected that she might make some 
 objections, so he left the room, humming the air 
 Veillons au saint de I' Empire, and went to Mademoi- 
 selle de Verneuil's room, impelled by an eager desire 
 
 (123)
 
 124 THE CHOUANS 
 
 to overcome her scruples and take her with him. 
 Perhaps he wished to solve the doubts that disturbed 
 him, or perhaps to try upon the stranger the power 
 that every man claims he is able to exert over a 
 pretty woman. 
 
 " If he's a Republican," said Corentin to himself, 
 as he watched him leave the room, " may I be 
 hanged ! He has the swing of a courtier in his 
 shoulders. And if that's his mother," he added, 
 still speaking to himself, and glancing at Madame du 
 Gua, "then I'm the Pope ! I have some Chouans 
 at my mercy. 1 must make sure of their quality." 
 
 Soon the door opened and the young sailor ap- 
 peared, leading Mademoiselle de Verneuil by the 
 hand, and escorting her to the table with courteous 
 self-assurance. The hour that had passed had not 
 been wasted in the devil's service. Assisted by 
 Francine, Mademoiselle de Verneuil had arrayed 
 herself in a travelling costume more to be feared 
 perhaps than the most ravishing toilette de hal. Its 
 very simplicity had the charm that proceeds from 
 the art with v/hich a woman lovely enough to do 
 without ornaments can reduce costume to a second- 
 ary rank in the scale of attractions. She wore a 
 green dress of stylish cut, whose spencer embel- 
 lished with frogs marked the outlines of her form 
 with an affectation hardly befitting a young girl, and 
 showed her supple figure, her fine bust and her 
 graceful movements. She entered the room smiling 
 with the natural amiability of women who can dis- 
 play, between rosy lips, two even rows of teeth as
 
 THE CHOUANS 125 
 
 transparent as porcelain, and in their cheeks, two 
 dimples as fresh as a child's. Having laid aside the 
 hood which had at first almost concealed her from 
 the young sailor's gaze, she could easily employ the 
 thousand and one little wiles, so innocent in appear- 
 ance, by which a woman shows off and attracts 
 admiration to all the points of beauty in her face 
 and to the graceful outlines of her head. A certain 
 harmony between her manners and her costume 
 made her seem so much younger than she was that 
 Madame du Gua believed that she was very liberal 
 in giving her twenty years. The coquetry of her 
 toilet, evidently intended to make a favorable im- 
 pression, was certain to arouse the young man's 
 hopes ; but Mademoiselle de Verneuil bowed to him 
 with a slight inclination of the head, without looking 
 at him, and seemed to turn her back upon him with 
 a playful heedlessness that disconcerted him. This 
 reserve on her part indicated neither prudence nor 
 coquetry to the eyes of the strangers, but a natural 
 or feigned indifference. The candid expression 
 which the fair traveller was able to impart to her 
 features made them impenetrable. She made no 
 sign that betokened anticipations of triumph, but 
 seemed plentifully endowed with the pretty little 
 ways that seduce young men and that had already 
 made a dupe of the young sailor's self-esteem. So 
 it was that he returned to his place with a sort of 
 vexation. 
 
 Mademoiselle took Francine by the hand and said 
 in a sweet voice, addressing Madame du Gua :
 
 126 THE CHOUANS 
 
 "Madame, would you very kindly allow this 
 young woman, who is rather a friend than a servant 
 to me, to dine with us? In these stormy times 
 devotion can be requited only by the heart, and is 
 it not all that we have left? " 
 
 Madame du Gua answered the last sentence, 
 which was spoken in an undertone, with a rather 
 ceremonious half-courtesy, which betrayed her an- 
 noyance at falling in with so pretty a woman. 
 Then she leaned toward her son and whispered to 
 him : 
 
 " Oho ! stormy times, devotion, madame, and the 
 servant ! that must be some creature sent by 
 Fouche, and not Mademoiselle de Verneuil at all." 
 
 The guests were about to take their seats when 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil noticed Corentin, whose 
 eyes were still fixed in stern scrutiny on the two 
 strangers, both of whom were restless under his 
 gaze. 
 
 "Citizen," said she, "surely you are too well- 
 bred to dog my steps thus. When it sent my 
 parents to the scaffold, the Republic was not gener- 
 ous enough to provide me with a guardian. Al- 
 though with incredible, chivalrous gallantry you 
 have accompanied me thus far in my own despite," 
 ■ — here she uttered a sigh — " I have determined not 
 to allow the patronizing attention of which you are 
 so lavish to cause you any inconvenience. I am 
 safe here, you can leave me." 
 
 She bestowed a disdainful stare upon him as she 
 spoke. Her meaning was understood, Corentin re-
 
 THE CHOUANS 1 27 
 
 pressed a smile that almost curled up the corners of 
 his crafty lips, and bowed respectfully. 
 
 " Citizeness," he said, ** 1 shall always consider 
 it an honor to obey you. Beauty is the only queen 
 a true Republican can conscientiously serve." 
 
 As he left the room Mademoiselle de Verneuil's 
 eyes gleamed with such innocent joy, the meaning 
 smile upon her lips as she glanced at Francine was 
 so instinct with delight, that Madame du Gua, 
 whose prudence increased with her jealousy, felt in- 
 clined to abandon the suspicions that Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil's flawless beauty had sown in her mind. 
 
 "Perhaps it is Mademoiselle de Verneuil," she 
 whispered to her son. 
 
 " And what about the escort? " replied the young 
 man, made circumspect by his annoyance. " Is 
 she a prisoner or a protegee, a friend or an enemy of 
 the government? " 
 
 Madame du Gua winked as if to say that she 
 would fmd a way to clear up the mystery. How- 
 ever, Corentin's departure seemed to allay the 
 sailor's distrust, his face lost its severe expression 
 and he looked at Mademoiselle de Verneuil in a way 
 that revealed an immoderate love of women and not 
 the respectful ardor of a newly-born passion. The 
 young woman became all the more circumspect and 
 reserved her affectionate words for Madame du 
 Gua. The young man, raging within himself, also 
 tried in his bitter wrath to play at insensibility. 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil seemed not to notice this 
 manoeuvring and her manner was simple without
 
 128 THE CHOUANS 
 
 timidity, reserved without prudery. Thus this 
 meeting of persons who did not seem likely to be- 
 come intimate, awoke no particularly keen sympa- 
 thies. Indeed there was a commonplace embarrass- 
 ment, a constraint, which destroyed all the pleasure 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil and the young sailor had 
 promised themselves a moment before. But women 
 have among themselves such admirable tact in en- 
 forcing observance of the proprieties, such close 
 bonds of intimacy or such keen craving for emotion, 
 that they always know how to break the ice on 
 these occasions. Suddenly, as if the two fair guests 
 had had the same thought, they began innocently 
 to make sport of their only cavalier, and vied with 
 each other in lavishing jests and attentions upon 
 him. This unanimity left them free ; a look or a 
 word which might have had some importance had it 
 escaped them during their previous constraint, be- 
 came meaningless now. In short, after half an 
 hour, the two women, who were already foes in 
 secret, seemed the best friends in the world. The 
 young sailor was surprised to find that he was as 
 ill-pleased with Mademoiselle de Verneuil's freedom 
 of speech as with her reserve. He was in such a 
 state of irritation that he regretted with smothered 
 wrath having asked her to share his breakfast. 
 
 "Madame," said Mademoiselle de Verneuil to 
 Madame du Gua, " is monsieur your son always as 
 melancholy as at this moment ? " 
 
 "Mademoiselle," he replied, "I was just asking 
 myself of what use is happiness that is about to
 
 THE CHOUANS 1 29 
 
 fly away. The secret of my melancholy lies in the 
 keenness of my pleasure." 
 
 " That's a madrigal," she said with a laugh, 
 " that savors more of the court than the Ecole Poly- 
 technique." 
 
 " He simply put in words a very natural thought, 
 mademoiselle," said Madame du Gua, who had her 
 own reasons for wishing to tame the stranger. 
 
 "Come, laugh a little!" rejoined Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil, smiling at the young man. "What 
 are you like, pray, when you weep, if what you 
 please to call happiness saddens you like this ? " 
 
 That smile, accompanied by an aggressive glance 
 that destroyed the harmony of her mask of inno- 
 cence, gave the sailor a little hope. But, impelled 
 by her nature, which always leads a woman to do 
 too much or too little. Mademoiselle de Verneuil at 
 one moment seemed to take possession of the young 
 man by a glance in which shone pregnant promises 
 of love ; at another moment she met his gallant 
 expressions with cold, stern modesty ; a vulgar 
 manoeuvre, behind which women conceal their real 
 emotions. Once, for a single instant, when each of 
 them thought to find the other's eyes lowered, they 
 made known their real thoughts to each other ; but 
 they were as prompt to veil their glances as they 
 had been to mingle their light, which sowed con- 
 fusion in their hearts while enlightening them. 
 Ashamed of having said so many things in a single 
 glance, they no longer dared look at each other. 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, anxious to correct the 
 9
 
 130 THE CHOUANS 
 
 impression she had conveyed, took refuge in frigid 
 politeness, and even seemed to await the end of the 
 repast with impatience. 
 
 " You must have suffered terribly in prison, ma- 
 demoiselle ? " said Madame du Gua. 
 
 " Alas ! madame, it seems to me as if 1 were still 
 there." 
 
 " Is your escort intended to protect you or watch 
 you, madame .-' Are you a precious or suspicious 
 object to the Republic ? " 
 
 Mademoiselle understood instinctively that she 
 inspired little interest in Madame du Gua, and she 
 took fright at the question. 
 
 " Madame," she replied, " I don't know precisely 
 what the nature of my relations with the Republic 
 is at this moment." 
 
 "You make it tremble for its safety perhaps," 
 observed the young man with a touch of irony. 
 
 " Why not respect mademoiselle's secrets ? " 
 said Madame du Gua. 
 
 " Oh ! madame, the secrets of a young woman 
 who as yet knows nothing of life but its woes, are 
 not very interesting." 
 
 " But," rejoined Madame du Gua, bent upon con- 
 tinuing a conversation which might give her the 
 information she wanted, "the First Consul's inten- 
 tions seem to me perfectly unexceptionable. Don't 
 they say that he is going to revoke the laws against 
 emigres? " 
 
 "It is true, madame," she replied, too eagerly 
 perhaps; "but, in that case, why do we stir La
 
 THE CHOUANS 131 
 
 Vendee and Bretagne to revolt ? Why set France 
 on fire ? " 
 
 This generous outburst, by which she seemed to 
 reproach herself, made the sailor start. He looked 
 closely at Mademoiselle de Verneuil, but could dis- 
 cover no sign either of love or hate upon her fea- 
 tures. That fair skin, whose coloring attested its 
 fineness, was impenetrable. Invincible curiosity 
 suddenly attached him to this strange creature, to 
 whom he was already attracted ny passionate desire. 
 
 " Are you going to Mayenne, madame ? " she 
 said after a short pause. 
 
 "Yes, mademoiselle," the young man replied 
 with a questioning expression. 
 
 "Very well, madame," continued Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil, " as your son is in the service of the 
 Republic—" 
 
 She uttered the words with an air of apparent un- 
 concern, but she cast upon the two strangers one of 
 the furtive glances that are known only to women 
 and diplomatists. 
 
 " You must fear the Chouans, do you not ? " she 
 continued; "an escort is not to be despised. We 
 have almost become travelling companions, come to 
 Mayenne with us." 
 
 The mother and the son hesitated and seemed to 
 consult each other. 
 
 "I don't know, mademoiselle," the young man 
 replied, " if it is very prudent to confide to you that 
 interests of the greatest importance require our 
 presence to-night in the neighborhood of Fougeres,
 
 132 THE CHOUANS 
 
 and that we have not as yet found any means of 
 transportation ; but women are so generous by na- 
 ture that I should be ashamed not to trust you. 
 Nevertheless," he added, *' before putting ourselves 
 in your hands, we ought at least to make sure that 
 we can leave them again safe and sound. Are you 
 the queen or the slave of your Republican escort ? 
 Excuse a sailor's outspokenness, but I can see noth- 
 ing very natural in your situation." 
 
 " We live in a time when nothing that happens 
 is natural, monsieur. So you can accept without 
 scruple, do not doubt it. Certainly," she added, 
 dwelling upon the word, " you have no reason to 
 fear treachery in an offer made in straightforward 
 terms by one who does not espouse political 
 hatred." 
 
 " The journey under such circumstances will not 
 be without danger," he rejoined, with a gleam in 
 his eye that relieved the commonplaceness of the 
 reply. 
 
 •'What can you fear, pray?" she asked with a 
 mocking smile ; " 1 can imagine no danger for any- 
 body." 
 
 " Is this woman who is speaking now the same 
 one whose glance shared my desires? " said the 
 young man to himself. "What a tone! She is 
 setting a trap for me." 
 
 At that moment the clear, piercing cry of a 
 screech-owl, apparently perched on top of the chim- 
 ney, rang out like a solemn warning. 
 
 " What's that? " said Mademoiselle de Verneuil.
 
 THE CHOUANS 1 33 
 
 " Our journey doesn't begin under happy auspices. 
 But how does it happen that screech-owls are sing- 
 ing in broad daylight? " she asked with a gesture 
 of surprise. 
 
 "That may happen sometimes," said the young 
 man coldly. — "Mademoiselle," he continued, "we 
 might bring you bad luck. Isn't that what you 
 were thinking? Then we had better not travel to- 
 gether." 
 
 The words were uttered with a calmness and re- 
 serve that surprised Mademoiselle de Verneuil. 
 
 "Monsieur," she retorted with aristocratic im- 
 pertinence, " I am very far from wishing to con- 
 strain you. Let us keep the little freedom the Re- 
 public leaves us. If madame were alone I should 
 insist — " 
 
 A heavy military step was heard in the hall and 
 Commandant Hulot soon appeared, with crabbed 
 mien. 
 
 "Come in, colonel," said Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil with a smile, pointing to a chair beside her. — 
 " Let us turn our attention, if we must, to affairs 
 of state. But smile then. What's the matter? 
 Are there Chouans here? " 
 
 The commandant had stopped as if petrified at 
 sight of the young stranger, and was examining him 
 with extraordinary interest. 
 
 "Would you like some more hare, mother.? — 
 Mademoiselle, you are not eating," said the young 
 sailor to Francine, pretending to be very much oc- 
 cupied with his guests.
 
 134 
 
 THE CHOUANS 
 
 But there was something painfully serious about 
 Hulot's surprise and Mademoiselle de Verneuil's 
 close attention, which it was dangerous to overlook. 
 
 "What is it, commandant? do you know me?" 
 the young man asked abruptly. 
 
 "Perhaps," replied the Republican. "Indeed,! 
 believe I have seen you at the school." 
 
 "1 never went to the school," retorted the com- 
 mandant shortly. " What school do you come from, 
 by the way? " 
 
 " The Ecole Polytechnique." 
 
 " Ah ! yes, that barrack where they try to make 
 soldiers in dormitories," rejoined the commandant, 
 whose aversion for officers graduated from that 
 nursery of learning was insurmountable. 
 
 " In what corps do you serve? " 
 
 " In the navy." 
 
 "Oho!" said Hulot with a malicious laugh. 
 " Do you know many pupils of that school in the 
 navy ? — They turn out only artillery and engineer 
 officers," he added gravely. 
 
 The young man did not lose countenance. 
 
 "I am an exception on account of the name I 
 bear," he replied. " We are all sailors in our 
 familv." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Hulot, " what is your family name, 
 citizen? " 
 
 " Du Gua Saint-Cyr." 
 
 " Then you weren't murdered at Mortagne? " 
 
 " Indeed, he came very near it," said Madame du 
 Gua hastily ; " my son received two bullets."
 
 THE CHOUANS 1 35 
 
 '* And have you papers? " said Hulot, not heed- 
 ing the mother. 
 
 " Do you care to read them? " asked the young 
 sailor impertinently, while his cunning blue eye 
 studied alternately the lowering features of the 
 commandant and those of Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil. 
 
 " Do you think I'd let a novice like you make a 
 fool of me? Come, give me your papers, or if not, 
 off we go ! " 
 
 " There, there, my good man, I'm not a green- 
 horn. Is there any reason why I should answer 
 you? Who are you? " 
 
 "The commandant of the department," replied 
 Hulot. 
 
 "Oho! my case may become very serious, 1 
 should be taken with arms in my hand." 
 
 And he offered the commandant a glass of Bor- 
 deaux. 
 
 " I'm not thirsty," said Hulot. " Come, let me 
 see your papers." 
 
 At that moment the rattle of muskets and the 
 measured tread of soldiers were heard in the street ; 
 Hulot went to the window and his features took on 
 an expression of satisfaction that made Mademoi- 
 selle de Verneuil tremble. That indication of inter- 
 est warmed the heart of the young man, whose face 
 had become cold and proud. After fumbling in his 
 coat pocket, he produced certain papers from a 
 handsome portfolio and handed them to Hulot, who 
 began to read them slowly, comparing the descrip-
 
 136 THE CHOUANS 
 
 tion in the passport with the features of the sus- 
 pected traveller. During this examination the cry 
 of the screech-owl began afresh, but this time it was 
 not difficult to distinguish the accent and the modu- 
 lations of a human voice. Thereupon the com- 
 mandant returned the papers to the young man with 
 a mocking expression. 
 
 " All this is very fine," he said, " but you must 
 go with me to headquarters. I'm not fond of music 
 myself!" 
 
 " Why do you take him to headquarters.? " asked 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil in an altered voice. 
 
 " My little girl," retorted the commandant with 
 his habitual grimace, "that doesn't concern you." 
 
 Irritated by the old soldier's tone and expression, 
 and even more by being humiliated, in a certain 
 sense, before a man who was attracted by her. Ma- 
 demoiselle de Verneuil rose and laid aside in an 
 instant the attitude of innocence and modesty she 
 had thus far maintained ; her color grew brighter 
 and her eyes gleamed. 
 
 " Tell me, has this young man satisfied all the re- 
 quirements of the law ? " she demanded softly but 
 with a sort of tremble in her voice. 
 
 " Yes, in appearance," replied Hulot ironically. 
 
 " Very good, then I propose that you shall let him 
 go his way in appearance," she retorted. " Are you 
 afraid that he will escape you } you will escort him 
 with me as far as Mayenne, he will be in the coach 
 with his mother. No remarks, I wish it so I — Well, 
 what now .? " — she added, seeing that Hulot ventured
 
 THE CHOUANS 137 
 
 to repeat his little grimace, "do you still consider 
 him a suspicious person ? " 
 
 "Why somewhat so, I think." 
 
 " What do you propose to do with him, pray ? " 
 
 " Nothing, unless it be to cool his head with a 
 little lead. He's a light-headed fellow," added the 
 commandant, ironically. 
 
 " Are you joking, Colonel ? " cried Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil. 
 
 "Come on, comrade!" said the commandant, 
 motioning to the sailor with his head ; " come, make 
 haste!" 
 
 At Hulot's impertinence. Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 became calm and smiled. 
 
 " Don't move," she said to the young man, with 
 a protecting gesture full of dignity. 
 
 " Oh ! what a lovely head ! " the sailor whispered 
 to his mother, who frowned. 
 
 Anger and a thousand other irritated but restrained 
 feelings, thereupon revealed new beauties in the young 
 Parisian's face. Francine, Madame du Qua and her 
 son had all risen. Mademoiselle de Verneuil hastily 
 placed herself between them and the commandant, 
 who was smiling, and quickly unfastened two of the 
 frogs of her spencer. Then, acting upon the impulse 
 of the blind passion with which women are seized 
 when their self-esteem is violently attacked, flattered 
 too, perhaps, or impatient to exert her power, as a 
 child might be to play with the new toy just given 
 him, she handed the commandant an open letter. 
 
 " Read this," she said with a sardonic smile.
 
 138 THE CHOUANS 
 
 She turned to the young man, and in the intoxica- 
 tion of triumph, bestowed upon him a glance in which 
 mischief and love were mingled. The clouds van- 
 ished from the brows of both ; joy heightened the 
 color in their agitated faces, and a thousand contra- 
 dictory thoughts surged through their minds. At a 
 single glance Madame du Gua decided that Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil's generosity must be attributed 
 to love rather than to charity, and she was un- 
 questionably right. The pretty traveller blushed at 
 first and modestly lowered her eyelids, realizing all 
 that her woman's glance had said. Before that 
 threatening accusation, she raised her head proudly 
 and defied all eyes. The commandant, dumb- 
 founded, handed back the letter, counter-signed by 
 ministers, which enjoined upon all those in authority 
 to obey the orders of this mysterious personage ; 
 but he drew his sword from its sheath, broke it 
 across his knee and threw away the pieces. 
 
 " Mademoiselle, you probably are well aware 
 what you have to do," he said ; " but a Republican 
 has his own ideas and his own pride. I cannot serve 
 where pretty girls command ; the First Consul will 
 receive my resignation this evening, and others than 
 Hulot will obey you. When 1 reach a point where 1 
 don't understand, 1 stop ; especially when I am ex- 
 pected to understand." 
 
 There was a moment's silence, but it was soon 
 broken by the young Parisian, who marched up 
 to the commandant, offered him her hand and 
 said :
 
 THE CHOUANS 
 
 139 
 
 " Colonel, although your beard's a little long, you 
 may kiss me ; you are a man." 
 
 " And I am proud of it, mademoiselle," he 
 answered, awkwardly depositing a kiss on the 
 strange creature's hand. — " As for you, comrade," 
 he added, shaking his finger threateningly at the 
 young man, " you had a narrow escape ! " 
 
 " Well, commandant," said the stranger with a 
 laugh, " it's time to put an end to the jest, and if 
 you wish 1 will go with you to headquarters." 
 
 " Will you bring your invisible whistler, Marche- 
 a-Terre along ? " 
 
 "Who is Marche-a-Terre .? " asked the sailor, 
 with every indication of the most genuine sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Didn't somebody whistle just now .-' " 
 
 " Even so," rejoined the stranger, " what connec- 
 tion is there between that whistling and me, I ask 
 you .'' I supposed that the soldiers you had ordered 
 to arrest me probably took that method of an- 
 nouncing their arrival." 
 
 " You really thought that ? " 
 
 " Mon Dieii, yes. But drink your glass of Bor- 
 deaux, pray — it's delicious." 
 
 Amazed at the sailor's well-feigned astonishment, 
 the incredible heedlessness of his manner and the 
 youthful appearance of his face, which was made 
 almost like a child's by the carefully curled locks of 
 his fair hair, the commandant wavered amid innu- 
 merable suspicions. He noticed Madame du Gua, 
 who was trying to decipher the secret of the glances
 
 140 THE CHOUANS 
 
 her son was dartin^; at Mademoiselle de Verneuil, 
 and asked her abruptly : 
 
 " Your age, citizeness ? " 
 
 "Alas! Monsieur I'Officier, the laws of our Re- 
 public are becoming very heartless ! 1 am thirty- 
 eight years old." 
 
 " If I were to be shot for it, I wouldn't believe a 
 word of it. Marche-a-Terre is here, he whistled, 
 you are Chouans in disguise. Tonnerre de Dieu ! 
 I'll have the inn surrounded and searched." 
 
 At that moment an irregular whistling, much like 
 that they had heard before and evidently proceeding 
 from the inn yard, interrupted the commandant ; 
 he rushed out into the corridor very opportunely 
 for Madame du Gua, for he did not see the pallor 
 that overspread her face at his words. Hulot saw 
 that the whistler was a postilion, who was harness- 
 ing his horses to the mail-coach ; he abandoned his 
 suspicions, it seemed so absurd that Chouans should 
 venture into Alengon, and he returned to the room 
 in confusion." 
 
 " 1 forgive him now, but later he shall pay dear 
 for the moments he has made us pass here," said 
 the mother solemnly in her son's ear, just as Hulot 
 returned. 
 
 The gallant officer's embarrassed expression told 
 of the struggle going on in his heart between the 
 strict performance of his duty and his natural kind- 
 liness. He maintained his morose manner, perhaps 
 because he thought he had made a mistake, but he 
 took the glass of Bordeaux and said :
 
 THE CHOUANS 141 
 
 "Your pardon, comrade; but your school sends 
 such young officers into the artillery — " 
 
 ** Have they even younger ones among the 
 brigands ? " asked the pretended sailor with a laugh. 
 
 " For whom did you take my son, pray ? " said 
 Madame du Gua. 
 
 "For the Gars, the commandant sent by the 
 English Cabinet to the Chouans and Vendeans ; his 
 real name is the Marquis de Montauran." 
 
 The commandant continued to keep a close watch 
 upon the faces of the two suspects, who looked at 
 each other with that strange expression which two 
 presumably ignorant persons assume and which may 
 be translated by this dialogue: "Do you know 
 him ? " — " No ; and you ? " — " Never heard of 
 him."—" What's he talking about ? "— " He's 
 dreaming." — Then follows the sly, insulting laugh 
 of idiocy when it thinks it has triumphed. 
 
 The sudden change in Marie de Verneuil's manner 
 and her apparent torpor when she heard the name 
 of the Royalist general, were perceptible only to 
 Francine, who alone was familiar with all the im- 
 perceptible variations of that youthful face. The 
 commandant, altogether worsted, picked up the 
 pieces of his sword, glanced at Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil, whose outburst of warm feeling had solved 
 the secret of touching his heart, and said to her : 
 
 " As for you, mademoiselle, I retract nothing I 
 have said, and to-morrow the fragments of my 
 sword will be in the hands of General Bonaparte, 
 unless — "
 
 142 
 
 THE CHOUANS 
 
 "Bah! what do I care for Bonaparte or your 
 Republic or the Chouans or the King or the Gars ? " 
 she cried, restraining with but partial success an 
 outbreak of bad temper. 
 
 Some strange caprice or concealed passion im- 
 parted a glowing color to her face, and it was easy 
 to see that the whole world would be as nothing to 
 her as soon as she should single out some one crea- 
 ture therein ; but suddenly she forced herself to be- 
 come calm once more, finding that she was, like a 
 sublime actor, the centre of observation of all those 
 present. The commandant rose abruptly. Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil, ill at ease and excited, fol- 
 lowed him into the corridor, where she stopped him 
 and asked in a solemn tone : 
 
 " Had you any strong reasons for suspecting that 
 young man to be the Gars ? " 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dieu! mademoiselle, the fellow who 
 is in attendance on you came and told me that the 
 passengers and courier had been murdered by the 
 Chouans, which I already knew but he also told me 
 something 1 did not know, the names of the dead 
 passengers, and their name was Du Gua Saint- 
 Cyr ! " 
 
 " Oh ! if Corentin has had his hand in it, I'm not 
 surprised at anything ! " she cried with an expres- 
 sion of disgust. 
 
 The commandant walked away, not daring to 
 look at Mademoiselle de Verneuil, whose dangerous 
 beauty was already making a disturbance in his 
 heart.
 
 THE CHOUANS 143 
 
 " If I had stayed two minutes longer, I should 
 have been fool enough to resume my sword in order 
 to escort her," he said to himself, as he descended 
 the stairs. 
 
 When she saw that the young man did not take 
 his eyes from the door through which Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil had left the room, Madame du Gua 
 whispered in his ear : 
 
 " Always the same ! You will surely meet your 
 death through a woman's instrumentality. A mere 
 doll makes you forget everything. Why did you 
 allow her to breakfast with us, pray ? Who is this 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil who accepts a stranger's 
 invitation to breakfast, who has an escort of Blues, 
 and who disarms them with a letter held in reserve 
 in her spencer, like a billet doux ? She's one of 
 those vile creatures by whose aid Fouche is trying 
 to capture you, and the letter she exhibited was 
 given her to authorize her to call on the Blues against 
 you." 
 
 " Ah ! madame," the young man replied in a harsh 
 tone that pierced her heart and drove the blood from 
 her cheeks, "her generosity gives the lie to your 
 supposition. Remember that only the king's cause 
 keeps us together. After having had Charette at 
 your feet, does not the world seem to you an empty 
 void ? Do you live for anything except to avenge 
 him ? " 
 
 The lady stood lost in thought, like a man who 
 watches from the shore the shipwreck of his treas- 
 ures and longs the more eagerly for his lost fortune.
 
 144 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil returned, and the young 
 man exchanged with her a smile and a glance in- 
 stinct with sweet mockery. However uncertain the 
 future might appear, however fleeting their union, 
 the prophetic promises of that ray of hope were only 
 the more alluring. That glance, though swift as 
 light, did not escape the keen eye of Madame du 
 Gua, who understood its meaning. Instantly her 
 brow contracted slightly, and she could not entirely 
 conceal her jealous thoughts. Francine was watch- 
 ing her ; she saw her eyes gleam, her cheeks flush ; 
 she thought she could detect an infernal purpose in 
 her face, behind which some terrible convulsion was 
 in progress ; but lightning is not more swift nor 
 death more sudden than that fleeting expression ; 
 Madame du Gua resumed her affable manner with 
 such perfect self-possession that Francine believed 
 she had been dreaming. Nevertheless, as she de- 
 tected in her appearance signs of a temper as violent 
 as Mademoiselle de Verneuil's, she shuddered as she 
 thought of the terrific shock that was sure to follow 
 the contact of two such natures, and trembled when 
 she saw Mademoiselle de Verneuil walk up to the 
 young officer with one of those passionate glances 
 that intoxicate, take both his hands, draw him to- 
 ward her and lead him to the window with a mis- 
 chievously coquettish gesture. 
 
 " Now, confess," she said, trying to read the 
 truth in his eyes, "you are not Citizen du Gua 
 Saint-Cyr, are you ? " 
 
 "Yes, mademoiselle."
 
 THE CHOUANS 145 
 
 " But he and his mother were killed on the day be- 
 fore yesterday ! " 
 
 " 1 am very sorry for it," he replied with a laugh. 
 " However that may be, 1 am none the less deeply 
 indebted to you and shall always be profoundly 
 grateful ; 1 should be very glad of an opportunity to 
 prove my gratitude." 
 
 " I thought I was saving an emigre, but I like you 
 better as a Republican." 
 
 As the words escaped from her lips, as if on the im- 
 pulse of the moment, she became confused ; her very 
 eyes seemed to blush, and her face expressed noth- 
 ing more than fascinating artlessness of sentiment ; 
 she gently released the officer's hands, not from 
 shame at having pressed them, but because of a 
 thought too heavy for her heart to bear, and left him 
 drunken with hope. Suddenly she seemed to be 
 angry with herself at the liberty she had taken, al- 
 though it was justified perhaps by the swiftly pass- 
 ing incidents of the journey ; she resumed her con- 
 ventional attitude, saluted her two fellow-travellers 
 and disappeared with Francine. When they reached 
 their room, Francine folded her fingers together and 
 turned the palms of her hands outward until her 
 arms were twisted, saying as she gazed at her mis- 
 tress : 
 
 " Ah ! Marie, how many things have happened in 
 a short time ! No one but you ever has such adven- 
 tures ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil threw her arms about 
 
 Francine's neck. 
 10
 
 146 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Ah ! this is life, I am in heaven ! " she cried. 
 
 " In hell, perhaps," observed Francine. 
 
 " Oh ! hell if you please ! " rejoined Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil gayly. " Here, give me your hand ; 
 feel how my heart beats ! I am in a burning fever. 
 The whole world is of small consequence to me ! 
 How many times I have seen that man in my dreams ! 
 Oh ! what a beautiful head he has and what a 
 brilliant glance ! " 
 
 " Will he love you ? " asked the artless, simple- 
 minded peasant girl in a faltering voice and with a 
 doleful expression on her face. 
 
 " Can you ask?" replied Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil. — " Tell me, Francine," she added, adopting a 
 half-serious, half-jocose attitude, "would it be such 
 a very hard thing to do .? " 
 
 " But will he always love you ? " rejoined Fran- 
 cine with a smile. 
 
 They looked at each other for a moment equally 
 confused, Francine because she had let fall a hint of 
 her own experience, Marie because for the first time 
 sh€ saw a possibility of a happy future in her pas- 
 sion ; and she remained, as it were, leaning over a 
 precipice whose height she sought to ascertain, 
 awaiting the sound that would indicate that the 
 stone she had heedlessly thrown over had reached 
 the bottom. 
 
 " Ah ! that is for me to look to," she said, with 
 the gesture of a desperate gambler. " I have no 
 pity for a woman who is betrayed, she has no one 
 to blame for her lover's desertion but herself. I
 
 THE CHOUANS 147 
 
 shall find a way to keep beside me, living or dead, 
 the man whose heart has belonged to me. — But," 
 she added in a surprised tone, after a moment's 
 silence,. " how do you happen to know so much 
 about it, Francine ? " 
 
 "Mademoiselle," replied the peasant girl, "I 
 hear steps in the corridor — " 
 
 " Ah," said she, pausing to listen, •* it is not he! 
 But," she added, "that's not an answer to my 
 question ! I understand you : I will wait for you to 
 tell me your secret or I will guess it for myself." 
 
 Francine was right. Three taps at the door inter- 
 rupted their conversation. Captain Merle appeared 
 in the doorway in response to Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil's invitation to enter. 
 
 As he saluted Mademoiselle de Verneuil in military 
 style, the captain ventured to glance at her and he 
 was so dazzled by her beauty that he could think of 
 nothing else to say than : 
 
 " I am at your service, mademoiselle ! " 
 
 " So you have become my protector by the resig- 
 nation of the commanding officer of your demi- 
 brigade } That's what your regiment is called, is it 
 not ? " 
 
 " Adjutant-major Gerard is my superior officer, 
 and it was he who sent me." 
 
 " Is your commandant afraid of me ? " she asked. 
 
 " Pardon me, mademoiselle, Hulot doesn't know 
 what fear is ; but when it comes to ladies, you see, 
 he doesn't feel at home ; and it vexed him to find 
 his general in a mob-cap with strings to it."
 
 148 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " And yet," rejoined Mademoiselle de Verneuil, 
 " it was his duty to obey his superiors ! I like sub- 
 ordination, I warn you, and I don't propose that any- 
 one shall resist my authority." 
 
 " That would be difficult," replied Merle. 
 
 " Let us hold a council," said she. "You have 
 fresh troops here, they will escort me to Mayenne, 
 where I should arrive this evening. Shall we find 
 other fresh troops there so that we can go on with- 
 out delay ? The Chouans know nothing of our little 
 expedition. If we travel at night, as 1 suggest, it 
 would go hard with us if we should meet them in 
 sufficient numbers to attack us. Do you think that 
 is possible ? " 
 
 ** Yes, mademoiselle." 
 
 " How is the road from Mayenne to Foug^res ? " 
 
 " Rough. It is all up and down hill, a regular 
 squirrel country." 
 
 " Let us start, let us start ! " she said ; " and as 
 we have nothing to fear while leaving Alenjon, 
 do you go on ahead ; we can easily overtake 
 you." 
 
 " One would think she had held her commission ten 
 years," said Merle to himself, as he took his leave. 
 " Hulot's mistaken, that girl isn't one of the kind 
 that pick up an income with a feather bed. And, 
 ten thousand cartridges I if Captain Merle wants to 
 be adjutant-major, I advise him not to take Saint 
 Michael for the devil." 
 
 During Mademoiselle de Verneuil's conference 
 with the captain, Francine had gone out intending to
 
 THE CHOUANS 149 
 
 examine from a window in the corridor a certain 
 point in the inn-yard, toward which she had been 
 irresistibly drawn by curiosity ever since her arrival 
 at the inn. She gazed at the straw in the stable 
 with such rapt attention that one might have thought 
 she was engaged in prayer before a statue of the 
 Blessed Virgin. Soon she saw Madame du Gua 
 picking her way toward Marche-a-Terre with the 
 cautious step of a cat trying not to wet his paws. 
 When he saw her approaching, the Chouan rose and 
 maintained an attitude of the most profound respect 
 before her. That strange circumstance heightened 
 Francine's curiosity, and she rushed down into the 
 yard, glided along the walls, keeping out of Madame 
 du Gua's sight, and tried to hide behind the stable 
 door ; she walked on tiptoe, held her breath, avoided 
 making the slightest sound, and succeeded in taking 
 up a position near Marche-a-Terre without having 
 attracted his attention. 
 
 " And if, according to all you can find out, that 
 isn't her name," the stranger was saying to the 
 Chouan, " you will fire on her without pity, as if 
 she were a mad dog ! " 
 
 " Very good," replied Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 The lady returned to the inn. The Chouan re- 
 placed his red woollen cap on his head, and was still 
 standing where she left him, scratching his ear after 
 the manner of embarrassed folk, when Francine 
 appeared before him as if by magic. 
 
 " Sainte Anne d'Auray ! " he cried. 
 
 Suddenly he dropped his whip, clasped his hands
 
 150 THE CHOUANS 
 
 and stood as if in a trance. A faint flush lighted up 
 his coarse features and his eyes shone like diamonds 
 lost in the mud. 
 
 " Is it really Cottin's garce ? " he said in so low a 
 tone that he alone could hear it. — " Ain't you 
 godaine, though ! " he added after a pause. 
 
 That curious word ^0(i<^/«, godaine, is a superlative 
 expression in the patois of those regions, used by 
 lovers to express the perfect accord of a rich cos- 
 tume and a beautiful face. 
 
 " 1 shouldn't dare to touch you," added Marche-a- 
 Terre, putting out his broad hand toward Francine 
 none the less, as if to satisfy himself as to the 
 weight of a heavy gold chain that encircled her 
 neck and hung down to her waist. 
 
 " And you would do well not to, Pierre ! " replied 
 Francine, guided by the instinct that makes a 
 woman a despot when she is not herself the victim 
 of despotism. 
 
 She drew back haughtily after enjoying the 
 Chouan's amazement ; but she made up for the 
 harshness of her speech by a glance overflowing 
 with sweetness, and drew near to him again. 
 
 " Pierre," she continued, " that woman was talk- 
 ing to you about the young lady whose service I am 
 in, wasn't she? " 
 
 Marche-a-Terre made no reply and his face be- 
 trayed a struggle like that of the dawn between 
 darkness and light. He looked at Francine, then at 
 the great whip he had dropped, then at the gold 
 chain which seemed to possess as great a fascination
 
 THE CHOUANS 151 
 
 for him as the Breton girl's face ; then, as if to put 
 an end to his uneasiness, he picked up his whip, 
 but still he said nothing. 
 
 " Oh ! it's easy enough to guess that that woman 
 ordered you to kill my mistress," continued Fran- 
 cine, who well knew the secret loyalty of the Gars, 
 and wished to do away with his scruples, 
 
 Marche-a-Terre hung his head in a significant 
 way. To Cottin's garce, that was equivalent to a 
 reply. 
 
 " Very well, Pierre, if the slightest harm hap- 
 pens to her, if a single hair of her head is injured, 
 we have seen each other for the last time, here and 
 hereafter — ^for 1 shall be in paradise, and you will go 
 to hell ! " 
 
 No poor soul possessed of one of those evil spirits 
 which the Church used to exorcise with great pomp, 
 was ever more agitated than was Marche-a-Terre 
 by that prophecy, pronounced with a conviction that 
 gave it a sort of certainty of fulfilment. His glances, 
 at first lighted up with uncouth tenderness, then 
 perplexed by the struggle with the duties enjoined 
 by a fanaticism as exacting as that of love, suddenly 
 became fierce when he observed the imperious 
 manner of the innocent mistress he had formerly 
 taken unto himself. Francine interpreted the 
 Chouan's silence in her own way. 
 
 "So you will do nothing for me.-* " she said in a 
 reproachful tone. 
 
 At that the Chouan bestowed upon his mistress a 
 glance as black as a crow's wing.
 
 152 THE CHOUANS 
 
 "Are you free?" he asked, with a growl that 
 Francine alone could hear. 
 
 "Should I be here?" she retorted indignantly. 
 " But what are you doing here? You are still at 
 your Choimnnerie, you are scouring the roads like a 
 mad beast trying to find somebody to bite. Oh ! 
 Pierre, if you were wise, you would come with me. 
 This lovely young lady who, I can safely tell you, 
 was once taken in and sheltered by us, has taken 
 good care of me. I have now two hundred francs a 
 year wages. And what's more, Mademoiselle has 
 bought Uncle Thomas's big house for me for fifteen 
 hundred francs, and I have two thousand francs laid 
 by." 
 
 But her smile and the enumeration of her treas- 
 ures failed to make any impression on Marche-a- 
 Terre's impenetrable features. 
 
 "The priests said to go to war," he replied. 
 " Every Blue we bring down is worth an indul- 
 gence." 
 
 " But perhaps the Blues may kill you ! " 
 
 He replied by letting his arms fall by his sides as if 
 to express his regret for the insignificance of his 
 offering to God and the king. 
 
 "And then what would become of me?" ex- 
 claimed the young woman sorrowfully. 
 
 Marche-a-Terre gazed stupidly at Francine : his 
 eyes seemed to increase in size, and two tears es- 
 caped from them and rolled in parallel lines down 
 his hairy cheeks to the goatskin jacket he wore, and 
 a dull groan issued from his breast.
 
 THE CHOUANS 1 53 
 
 " Sainte Anne d'Auray ! — Pierre, is this ail you 
 have to say to me after a separation of seven years? 
 — How you have changed ! " 
 
 " 1 love you still," replied the Chouan shortly, 
 
 " No," she whispered in his ear, "the king comes 
 before me." 
 
 " If you look at me like that," said he, "I'll go 
 away." 
 
 *' Very good, adieu," she replied sadly. 
 
 " Adieu ! " echoed Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 He seized Francine's hand, squeezed it, kissed it, 
 crossed himself and fled into the stable like a dog 
 that has stolen a bone. 
 
 " Pille-Miche," he said to his comrade, "I can't 
 see a thing. Have you got your snuff-box.? " 
 
 "Oh! cre'hleu! what a fine chain! — " replied 
 Pille-Miche, fumbling in the pocket of his goatskin. 
 
 He handed Marche-a-Terre one of the little cone- 
 shaped boxes made of cow-horn, in which the Bre- 
 tons carry the fine snuff that they grind themselves 
 during the long winter evenings. The Chouan 
 raised his thumb in such a way as to make a hollow 
 in his left hand, as pensioners do to measure their 
 pinches of snuff, and violently shook the box, the 
 top having been unscrewed by Pille-Miche. An im- 
 palpable dust fell lightly through the little hole in 
 the apex of the cone of that Breton utensil. Marche- 
 a-Terre repeated the silent operation seven or eight 
 times, as if the powder possessed the power of 
 changing the current of his thoughts. Suddenly he 
 threw the box back to Pille-Miche with a desperate
 
 154 THE CHOUANS 
 
 gesture and picked up a carbine that was hidden in 
 the straw. 
 
 " Seven or eight chimhe'es in succession like that 
 don't suit me at all ! " said the penurious Pille-Miche. 
 
 "Forward!" cried Marche-a-Terre in a hoarse 
 voice. " We have work to do." 
 
 Some thirty or more Chouans who were lying 
 asleep under the hay racks or in the straw, raised 
 their heads, saw Marche-a-Terre standing up, and 
 disappeared at once through a door opening into the 
 kitchen garden, through which they could reach the 
 fields.
 
 * 
 
 When Francineleft the stable, she found the mail- 
 coach ready to start. Mademoiselle de Verneuil and 
 her two travelling companions had already taken 
 their places. The Breton girl shuddered when she 
 saw her mistress on the back seat of the carriage 
 beside the woman who had just given orders for her 
 death. The suspect sat on the front seat opposite 
 Marie, and, as soon as Francine had taken her place, 
 the heavy vehicle started off at a fast trot. 
 
 The sun had scattered the gray autumnal clouds 
 and its rays enlivened the melancholy aspect of the 
 fields by imparting to them a festive, youthful air. 
 Many lovers take these caprices of the weather for 
 omens. Francine was greatly surprised at the silence 
 that prevailed among the travellers at the outset. 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil had resumed her chilling 
 air and sat with downcast eyes, her head bent 
 slightly forward and her hands hidden beneath a sort 
 of mantle in which she was enveloped. If she raised 
 her eyes it was only to glance at the different aspects 
 of the landscape as they flew swiftly by. Sure of 
 being admired, she refused to accept admiration ; 
 but her apparent heedlessness betrayed more coquetry 
 than innocence. The touching purity which imparts 
 
 (155)
 
 156 THE CHOUANS 
 
 such harmony to the varying expressions by which 
 feeble hearts reveal their secrets, could hardly lend 
 its charm to a creature whose fervid impulses destined 
 her to struggle amid the tempests of love. Con- 
 tent with the pleasure caused by the hopeful begin- 
 ning of an intrigue, the stranger did not as yet try 
 to explain to himself the lack of harmony between 
 the strange young woman's coquetry and her ex- 
 altation of spirit. Did not her feigned modesty per- 
 mit him to contemplate at his leisure a face to which 
 tranquillity was as becoming as her previous excite- 
 ment had been ? We are not likely to find fault 
 v/ith the source of our enjoyment. 
 
 It is difficult for a pretty woman to avoid the 
 glances of her companions in a close carriage, when 
 their eyes remain fixed upon her, as if seeking an 
 additional relief from the monotony of the journey. 
 And so, overjoyed to be able to satisfy the greed of 
 his budding passion, when the unknown could neither 
 avoid his glance nor take offence at his persistence, 
 the young officer amused himself by studying the 
 pure and graceful outlines of her face. It was like 
 a picture to him. Sometimes the light brought out 
 the transparent pink of the nostrils and the double 
 arch that joined the nose to the upper lip ; again, a 
 pallid sunbeam gave effect to the fine shading of the 
 complexion, pearl white under the eyes and about 
 the mouth, pink on the cheeks, dull white about the 
 temples and the neck. He admired the contrast of 
 light and darkness produced by her hair, which 
 framed her face in jet-black rolls, imparting an
 
 THE CHOUANS 1 57 
 
 ephemeral charm thereto ; for everything is so fleet- 
 ing in woman ! Her beauty of to-day is often dif- 
 ferent from her beauty of yesterday, luckily for her 
 it may be ! Being still at an age when man can 
 enjoy those trifles which are the whole of love, the 
 self-styled sailor awaited with pleasure the frequent 
 movement of the eyelids and the seductive rise and 
 fall of the bosom in breathing. Sometimes, follow- 
 ing the guidance of his thoughts, he tried to detect 
 some connection between the expression of the eyes 
 and the imperceptible movement of the lips. Every 
 gesture revealed to him some new aspect of her 
 mind, every movement some new phase of her char- 
 acter. If her mobile features were disturbed by 
 some passing thought, if a sudden blush tinged her 
 cheeks, if a rare smile brought new life to her face, 
 he derived untold delight from seeking to guess the 
 mysterious creature's secrets. It was all a snare 
 for the heart, a snare for the senses. And silence, 
 far from raising obstacles to the perfect understand- 
 ing of their hearts, became a common bond for their 
 thoughts. Several glances in which her eyes met 
 the stranger's, convinced Marie de Verneuil that the 
 prolonged silence would endanger her security ; she 
 thereupon asked Madame du Gua one of the meaning- 
 less questions with which conversations are often be- 
 gun, but she could not refrain from bringing in her son. 
 " How could you ever make up your mind, ma- 
 dame, to let your son enter the navy ? " she said. 
 " Do you not thereby condemn yourself to never- 
 ending anxiety .-' "
 
 158 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Mademoiselle, it is the fate of women, of mothers 
 1 mean, always to tremble for their most precious 
 treasures," 
 
 " Monsieur is much like you." 
 
 " You think so, mademoiselle ? " 
 
 This innocent legitimation of the age to which 
 Madame du Gua laid claim made the young man 
 smile and added to his mother's indignation. Her 
 hatred increased with every passionate glance her 
 son bestowed upon Marie. Silence, speech, every- 
 thing added fresh fuel to the frantic rage which she 
 concealed beneath a most amiable manner. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said the young man, " you are 
 in error. Sailors are no more exposed to danger 
 than soldiers. Women ought not to hate the navy ; 
 have we not the immense advantage over land 
 troops of remaining faithful to our mistresses .-' " 
 
 " Oh ! because you can't help yourselves," re- 
 torted Mademoiselle de Verneuil with a laugh. 
 
 ** It is fidelity, all the same," rejoined Madame du 
 Gua in an almost threatening tone. 
 
 The conversation became animated, turning upon 
 subjects that were of interest to none but the three 
 travellers ; for, under such circumstances, bright 
 people impart new significance to commonplace re- 
 marks : but the conversation, frivolous as it was, 
 in which these strangers amused themselves by 
 questioning each other, concealed the desires, the 
 passions and the hopes by which their hearts were 
 stirred. The shrewdness and cunning of Marie, 
 who was always on her guard, convinced Madame
 
 THE CHOUANS 1 59 
 
 du Gua that only by slander and treachery could she 
 hope to triumph over a rival as redoubtable for her 
 wit as for her beauty. The travellers overtook the 
 escort and therefore the carriage moved less rapidly. 
 The young sailor noticed that they had a long hill to 
 climb and suggested to Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 that they should walk a short distance. The young 
 man's respectful manner and engaging courtesy 
 seemed to persuade the Parisian, and her ready 
 consent flattered the young man. 
 
 "Does madame think as we do?" she said to 
 Madame du Gua. " Will not she walk a little way 
 also ? " 
 
 " Coquette ! " exclaimed that lady as she alighted 
 from the coach. 
 
 Marie and the unknown walked side by side and 
 yet apart. The sailor, already in the grasp of pas- 
 sionate desire, was eager to tear away the veil of 
 reserve with which he was confronted and by which 
 he was not deceived. He thought that he might at- 
 tain his purpose by joking with his companion under 
 favor of that French amiability, that sometimes light 
 and airy, sometimes serious, but always chivalrous 
 and often mocking wit that distinguished the note- 
 worthy men of the exiled aristocracy. But the 
 laughing Parisian joked the young Republican so 
 unmercifully, reproved him for his frivolous inten- 
 tions so scornfully, dwelling particularly upon the 
 weighty thoughts and the exaltation of mind that 
 found their way into his speech against his will, that 
 he readily guessed the secret of the way to please
 
 l60 THE CHOUANS 
 
 her. Thereupon the conversation assumed a new 
 tone. The stranger immediately gratified the hopes 
 that his expressive face aroused. From moment to 
 moment he found fresh difficulties to overcome in his 
 attempt to understand the siren of whom he was be- 
 coming more and more deeply enamored, and he was 
 compelled to suspend his judgments concerning a 
 young woman who amusedherself by falsifying them 
 all. After he had been fascinated by the contem- 
 plation of her beauty, he was drawn toward her un- 
 explored heart by an intense curiosity which Marie 
 took pleasure in arousing. Their conversation in- 
 sensibly assumed an intimate tone far removed from 
 the tone of indifference that Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil strove to no purpose to give it. 
 
 Although Madame du Gua had followed the lovers, 
 they instinctively walked faster than she and were 
 soon a hundred yards or more in advance of her. 
 Those two charming creatures trudged through the 
 fine sand of the road, carried away by a childish 
 delight in making their light footfalls resound in 
 unison, happy to be enveloped in the same ray of 
 light, which seemed to belong rather to the sun of 
 the springtime, and to inhale together the perfumes 
 of autumn, laden with such rich spoil of vegetation 
 that they seemed like nourishment brought by the 
 air to feed the melancholy of newborn love. Al- 
 though they both seemed to look upon their momen- 
 tary meeting as an ordinary adventure, the sky, the 
 locality and the season imparted to their feelings a 
 tinge of gravity that gave them the appearance of
 
 THE CHOUANS l6l 
 
 passion. They began by extolling the beauty of 
 the day ; then they spoke of their strange meeting, 
 of the speedy interruption of so pleasant an acquaint- 
 ance, and of one's readiness to open one's heart in 
 travelling to persons whom one meets only to lose 
 sight of at once At this last remark, the young 
 man took advantage of what seemed to be a sort of 
 tacit permission to indulge in some more confidential 
 conversation, and tried to venture upon an avowal 
 of his passion, like a man accustomed to such sit- 
 uations. 
 
 " Have you noticed, mademoiselle," he said, 
 " how seldom the sentiments follow travelled paths 
 in these days of terror that we are living in ? 
 Doesn't everything about us seem to happen with 
 inexplicable suddenness ? To-day we love or hate 
 on the strength of a glance. People join hands for 
 life or part with the same celerity with which they 
 go to their death. Everyone makes haste with 
 everything, as the nation does with its insurrections. 
 In the midst of danger, attachments are certain to go 
 deeper than when life moves on in the ordinary way. 
 In Paris, of late, everyone learned, as men learn on 
 a battlefield, all that can be said by a grasp of the 
 hand." 
 
 "People felt the necessity of living quickly and 
 well," she replied, " because they had but little 
 time to live." 
 
 With a glance at her companion that seemed to 
 call his attention to the end of their short journey 
 together, she added slyly :
 
 l62 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " You know a great deal of life for a young man 
 just out of the Ecole Poly technique ! " 
 
 " What do you think of me ? " he asked after a 
 moment's silence. " Tell me your opinion without 
 pity." 
 
 " Of course you want to acquire the right to 
 talk to me about myself?" she laughingly re- 
 torted. 
 
 " You don't answer me," he went on, after a 
 brief pause. " Beware, silence is often a reply." 
 
 " Don't I know all that you would like to be able 
 to say to me ? Mon Dieul you have already said too 
 much." 
 
 " Oh ! if we understand each other," he retorted 
 with a laugh, " I have obtained more than I dared 
 hope." 
 
 She smiled so graciously that she seemed to ac- 
 cept the courteous challenge with which every man 
 likes to threaten a woman. Thereupon they per- 
 suaded each other, seriously as well as by jocose re- 
 marks, that it was impossible for them ever to be 
 anything more to each other than they were at that 
 moment. The young man might abandon himself to 
 a passion that had no future and Marie could laugh 
 at it. Then, when they had raised an imaginary 
 barrier between them, they seemed equally eager to 
 make the most of the dangerous liberty for which 
 they had stipulated. Suddenly Marie struck her 
 foot against a stone and stumbled. 
 
 " Take my arm," said the stranger. 
 
 "I must do it, silly boy! You would be too
 
 THE CHOUANS 163 
 
 proud if I refused. Wouldn't it seem as if I were 
 afraid of you ? " 
 
 " Ah ! mademoiselle," he replied, pressing her 
 arm against his side so that she could feel his heart 
 beat, " you will make me very proud of this favor." 
 
 " Very well, my ready compliance will destroy 
 your illusions." 
 
 ** Are you seeking already to defend me against 
 the danger of the emotions you inspire .-* " 
 
 "Cease, 1 beg you," said she, "to entangle me 
 in these petty boudoir ideas, these alcove enigmas. I 
 don't like to find in a man of your character, wit of 
 the sort that any fool may have. Come ! — we are 
 in the open country beneath a beautiful, clear sky ; 
 above and around us everything is grand. You 
 want to tell me that I am lovely, don't you ? but 
 your eyes prove it, and what's more, I know it ; 
 but I am not a woman to be flattered by compli- 
 ments. Would you like, perchance, to talk to me 
 about your sentiments?" she added with sardonic 
 emphasis. "Can you imagine that I am such a 
 sim.pleton as to believe in sudden sentiments strong 
 enough to dominate one's whole life by the memory 
 of a single morning ? " 
 
 " Not of a single morning," he replied, " but of a 
 lovely woman who showed a generous heart." 
 
 " You forget," she rejoined with a laugh, "some 
 much greater attractions, an unknown woman, every- 
 thing about whom must seem strange, her name, her 
 rank, her situation, her freedom of speech and man- 
 ners."
 
 l64 THE CHOUANS 
 
 "You are not unknown to me," he cried; 
 " I have divined your character and I would add 
 nothing to your perfections, unless it be a little 
 more faith in the love you inspire at first 
 sight." 
 
 " Ah ! my poor child of seventeen, are you talking 
 of love already ? " she said with a smile. " Very 
 well, so be it. It's a fair subject of conversation 
 between two people, like the rain and the sunshine, 
 when we make a call — let us take it ! You will find 
 neither false modesty nor pettiness in me. I can 
 listen to the word without blushing ; it has been 
 said to me so many times without the tone that 
 comes from the heart, that it has become almost 
 meaningless to me. It has been repeated to me at 
 the theatre, in books, in society, everywhere ; but 
 1 have never fallen in with anything resembling that 
 magnificent sentiment." 
 
 " Have you sought it ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The word was uttered with such perfect self-pos- 
 session that the young man made a gesture of sur- 
 prise and gazed earnestly at Marie as if he had sud- 
 denly changed his opinion as to her character and 
 her real situation. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he said with ill-disguised emo- 
 tion, " are you girl or woman, angel or demon ? " 
 
 " 1 am both," she laughingly replied. " Isn't there 
 always something diabolic and angelic about a young 
 woman who has never loved, who does not love, and 
 who perhaps never v/ill love .'' "
 
 THE CHOUANS 165 
 
 " And you are happy so ? " — he asked, assuming a 
 freer tone and manner, as if he had already begun 
 to feel less esteem for his rescuer. 
 
 "Oh! happy," she rejoined, "no. When I 
 think I am alone, controlled by social conventions 
 that make me necessarily artificial, then I envy a 
 man's privileges. But, when I think of all the 
 means nature has given us to encompass you men, 
 to entangle you in the invisible nets of a power none 
 of you can resist, then my role here below smiles 
 upon me ; and again, suddenly it seems mean and 
 petty to me, and I feel that I should despise a man 
 if he were the dupe of vulgar fascinations. In short, 
 at one moment I am conscious of a yoke, and it 
 pleases me, then it seems horrible to me and I refuse 
 to submit to it ; again, I feel within myself that 
 longing for self-sacrifice which makes woman so 
 nobly beautiful, then 1 feel a thirst for domination 
 that consumes me. Perhaps it is the natural 
 struggle between the principles of good and evil that 
 gives life to all earthly creatures. Angel and 
 demon, you have said it. Ah ! not to-day am I 
 conscious for the first time of my two-fold nature. 
 However, we women understand our own insuffi- 
 ciency better than you. Have we not an instinct 
 that makes us foresee in everything a degree of per- 
 fection that is doubtless beyond the possibility of at- 
 tainment ? But," she added, glancing at the sky 
 and sighing, "the thing that makes us greater in 
 your eyes — " 
 
 " Is ? " he asked.
 
 l66 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Why, the fact that we all have to struggle, 
 more or less, against an incomplete destiny." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, why do we part this evening ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " she said, smiling at the passionate glance 
 the young man darted at her, " let us return to the 
 carriage, the fresh air isn't good for us." 
 
 Marie turned abruptly, the stranger followed her 
 and seized her arm in a grasp that could hardly be 
 called respectful, but that expressed admiration as 
 well as imperious passion. She walked faster ; the 
 sailor guessed that she wished to avoid a perhaps in- 
 opportune declaration, and he became all the more 
 ardent, risked everything to extort a first sign of 
 favor from the young woman and said, looking at 
 her with a cunning expression : 
 
 " Would you like me to tell you a secret ? " 
 
 " Oh ! tell me quickly, if it concerns you." 
 
 " I am not in the service of the Republic. Where 
 are you going .-' I will go with you." 
 
 When he had spoken, Marie trembled violently ; 
 she withdrew her arm from his grasp and covered 
 her face with her hands to conceal the flush, or the 
 pallor, that overspread her features ; but suddenly 
 she removed her hands and said in a faltering 
 voice : 
 
 " You have begun then as you will end, you have 
 deceived me ? " 
 
 " Yes," he replied. 
 
 At that reply she turned her back to the lumber- 
 ing mail-coach toward which they were walking, 
 and began almost to run.
 
 THE CHOUANS 167 
 
 " Why," said the unknown, " I thought the fresh 
 air did you no good ? " 
 
 "Oh! the wind has changed," she said in a 
 grave voice, walking on in the same direction, her 
 mind torn by tempestuous thoughts. 
 
 "You are silent?" queried the stranger, whose 
 heart was filled with that sweet apprehension caused 
 by the anticipation of pleasure. 
 
 "Oho!" said she shortly, "the tragedy has 
 begun very promptly." 
 
 " What tragedy do you mean ? " he asked. 
 
 She stopped, eyed her companion from head to 
 foot with an expression of mingled fear and curi- 
 osity ; then she concealed beneath an impenetrably 
 calm exterior the emotions that agitated her, and 
 showed that she had had much experience of life for 
 so young a woman. 
 
 " Who are you ? " she continued ; " but I know ! 
 When I first saw you, I suspected it : you are the 
 Royalist leader, the Gars, are you not ? The ex- 
 Bishop of Autun was right when he told us that we 
 should always believe in presentiments of evil." 
 
 "What interest have you in knowing that fel- 
 low .? " 
 
 "What interest can he have in concealing his 
 identity from me if I have already saved his life ? " 
 
 She began to laugh, but her laughter was forced. 
 
 " I acted very wisely in preventing you from 
 telling me that you love me. Understand, mon- 
 sieur, I abhor you. I am a Republican, you are a 
 Royalist, and I would betray you if you had not my
 
 l68 THE CHOUANS 
 
 word, if I had not already saved you once, and 
 if—' 
 
 She stopped. These violent revulsions of feeling, 
 these internal conflicts which she no longer took the 
 trouble to disguise disturbed the stranger, who tried, 
 but in vain, to watch her face. 
 
 " Let us part at once, I wish it," she said. 
 
 She turned quickly, walked away a few steps and 
 returned. 
 
 " But no, 1 have a very great interest in knowing 
 who you are," she said. " Keep nothing from me 
 and tell me the truth. Who are you ? for you are no 
 more a pupil of the Ecole Polytechnique than you 
 are seventeen years old." 
 
 " 1 am a sailor, ready to leave the Ocean to fol- 
 low you wherever your imagination may choose to 
 guide me. If I am so fortunate as to seem mysteri- 
 ous to you, 1 shall take good care not to put an end 
 to your curiosity. Why mingle the serious interests 
 of real life with the life of the heart, in which we 
 were beginning to understand each other so well ? " 
 
 " Our hearts might have come to an understand- 
 ing," she said gravely. " But, monsieur, 1 have no 
 right to demand your confidence. You will never 
 know the full extent of your obligations to me ; 1 
 shall say nothing." 
 
 They walked on a few steps in absolute silence. 
 
 ** What interest has my life for you ? " the 
 stranger began. 
 
 " Monsieur, for mercy's sake, tell me your name," 
 said she, "or else keep silent. You are a child,"
 
 ON THE ROAD TO MAYENNE 
 
 " IV/ij'," said he, taking the hand ivliicli she absent- 
 mindedly allozved Jam to hold, " why has my indis- 
 cretion, in suggesting that this day might have a 
 sequel, destroyed its charm f 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, zvho seemed to be suf- 
 fering, made no reply.
 
 A ,-, ,-/'--/ /»•■■/ /-., V •'•. > /,, 
 
 1
 
 THE CHOUANS 169 
 
 she added, shrugging her shoulders, "and I am 
 sorry for you." 
 
 His fellow-traveller's obstinacy in her attempts to 
 learn his secret made the pretended sailor hesitate 
 between prudence and his desires. The anger of 
 the woman one covets has some very powerful 
 attractions ; her submission, like her wrath, is so 
 imperious, she attacks so many chords in the man's 
 heart, she penetrates it and subjects it to her yoke ! 
 Was it simply an additional touch of coquetry in 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil ? Despite his passion the 
 stranger had the strength to distrust a woman who 
 strove to extort from him by violence a secret in- 
 volving life and death. 
 
 " Why," said he, taking the hand which she ab- 
 sent-mindedly allowed him to hold, " why has my 
 indiscretion, in suggesting that this day might have 
 a sequel, destroyed its charm? " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, who seemed to be suf- 
 fering, made no reply. 
 
 " In what way can I have grieved you," he con- 
 tinued, " and what can I do to make you happier .-' " 
 
 " Tell me your name." 
 
 It was his turn now to keep silent, and so they 
 walked on a few steps. Suddenly Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil stopped, like a person who has reached an 
 important determination. 
 
 "Monsieur le Marquis de Montauran," said she 
 with dignity, although she could not entirely disguise 
 her agitation, which made her twitch nervously, 
 "whatever it may cost me, I am happy to render
 
 170 THE CHOUANS 
 
 you a service. Here we must part. The escort 
 and the mail-coach are too necessary to your safety 
 for you not to accept both. Have no fear of the 
 Republicans ; all those soldiers are men of honor, 
 you know, and I shall give orders to the adjutant, 
 which he will execute faithfully. I can return to 
 Alenfon on foot with my maid ; some of the soldiers 
 will escort us. Listen to what I say, for your head 
 is at stake. If, before you are in a place of safety, 
 you meet the horrible fop you saw at the inn, fly, 
 for he would denounce you instantly. As for my- 
 self—" 
 
 She paused for a moment. 
 
 " As for myself, I return with pride to the paltry 
 miseries of life," she added in a low tone, struggling 
 to restrain her tears, " Adieu, monsieur. May you 
 be happy ! Adieu — " 
 
 She motioned to Captain Merle, who had just 
 reached the top of the hill. The young stranger did 
 not expect such a swift conclusion. 
 
 ** Wait ! " he cried in well-feigned desperation. 
 
 This strange caprice on the part of a girl for whom 
 he would at that moment have laid down his life, 
 surprised him so that he invented a deplorable ruse 
 to serve the double purpose of concealing his own 
 identity and sacrificing Mademoiselle de Verneuil's 
 curiosity. 
 
 "You have almost guessed the truth," he said; 
 " 1 am an emigre, condemned to death, and my name 
 is Vicomte de Bauvan. Love of my country has 
 brought me back to France, with my brother. 1
 
 THE CHOUANS I7I 
 
 hope to be struck off the list through the influence 
 of Madame de Beauharnais, who is now the wife of 
 the First Consul ; but, if I fail, then I wish to die on 
 my native soil, fighting beside my friend Montauran. 
 I am going first of all, in secret, with the assistance 
 of a passport he helped me to obtain, to Bretagne, 
 to see if I still own a little property there." 
 
 While the young nobleman was speaking, Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil watched him with a piercing 
 eye. She tried to doubt the truth of his words ; 
 but, being naturally credulous and trustful, her face 
 slowly resumed a serene expression, and she 
 cried : 
 
 " Monsieur, is what you tell me true? " 
 "Absolutely true," replied the unknown, who 
 seemed to be anything but straightforward in his 
 relations with the other sex. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil drew a long breath like 
 a person returning to life. 
 
 " Ah ! " she cried, " I am very happy ! " 
 *' Why, do you hate poor Montauran very bitter- 
 ly?" 
 
 "No," she said, "you couldn't understand. I 
 would not have liked^'OM to be threatened with the 
 dangers against which I shall try to defend him, as 
 he is your friend." 
 
 " Who told you that Montauran was in danger ? " 
 " Eh ! monsieur, even if I had not just come from 
 Paris, where nothing is talked about but his enter- 
 prise, the commandant at Alen^on told us enough 
 about him, I should say."
 
 1/2 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " I will ask you then how you can protect him 
 from all danger ? " 
 
 " And suppose I do not choose to reply ! " said 
 she with the disdainful air with which women are 
 so clever in concealing their emotions. " By what 
 right do you seek to know my secrets ? " 
 
 " By the right of a man who loves you." 
 
 " Already ? " she retorted. " No, you do not love 
 me, monsieur ; you see in me an opportunity for a 
 little passing flirtation, that is all. Did I not see 
 through your disguise at once ? Can a person who 
 is somewhat accustomed to good society, be deceived 
 in the present state of manners, when she hears a 
 pupil of the Ecole Polytechnique use the choicest 
 language, and disguise the manners of a grandee 
 beneath the outer husk of a Republican so poorly 
 as you have done it ? why your hair still shows the 
 traces of powder and you have an odor of noble birth 
 which a woman of the world is sure to detect at 
 once. And so, in fear and trembling for you lest 
 my spy, who has all a woman's cunning, should re- 
 cognize you, I speedily dismissed him. Monsieur, 
 a genuine Republican officer from the Ecole would 
 not look upon me as a mere light-o'-love, nor take 
 me for a pretty schemer. Permit me. Monsieur de 
 Bauvan, to submit to you on that subject a feeble 
 woman's argument. Are you so young that you 
 do not know that of all the individuals of our sex, 
 the most difficult to subdue is she whose value is all 
 computed and who is tired of pleasure ? That sort 
 of woman demands, so I am told, extraordinary se-
 
 THE CHOUANS I73 
 
 ductions, she yields only to her whims ; and for a 
 man to undertake to please her is the greatest folly. 
 Let us put aside that class of women, in which you 
 are gallant enough to place me, for they are all sup- 
 posed to be beautiful, — you should understand that 
 a young, noble, lovely, bright young woman — you 
 grant me those qualities — does not sell herself and 
 can be obtained in but one way, when she is loved. 
 You understand me ! If she loves, and if she wishes 
 to do a foolish thing, that foolish thing should be 
 justified by some display of grandeur ! Forgive me 
 this exuberance of logic, so rare in our sex ; but 
 for your honor and — my own," she said, bending her 
 head, " I did not wish that we should go astray as 
 to our respective merits, or that you should think 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, angel or demon, girl or 
 woman, capable of allowing herself to be taken in 
 by commonplace love-making." 
 
 "Mademoiselle," said the pretended viscount, 
 whose surprise, although well concealed, was ex- 
 treme, and who was suddenly transformed into a 
 man of the world, " I beg you to believe that I will 
 accept you as a very noble personage, full of heart 
 and of lofty sentiments, or — as an honest girl, as 
 you choose ! " 
 
 " I don't ask so much of you, monsieur," she re- 
 plied with a laugh. " Let me keep my incognito. 
 Moreover, my mask is attached more firmly than 
 yours, and it is my pleasure to continue to wear it, 
 if for no other purpose than to find out if the people 
 who talk to me of love are sincere. So don't ven-
 
 174 THE CHOUANS 
 
 ture to come near me without due reflection. Listen, 
 monsieur," she added, seizing his arm in a strong 
 grasp, "if you could prove to me that you really 
 love me, no human power should separate us. Yes, 
 I would like to share some noble existence with a 
 man, to espouse a vast ambition and exalted ideas. 
 Noble hearts are not unfaithful, for constancy is 
 suited to them ; so that I should be always loved, 
 always happy ; but should I not also be always 
 ready to make of my body a stepping-stone for the 
 man who had my love, to sacrifice myself for him, 
 to endure everything at his hands, to love him still, 
 even if he should cease to love me ? I have never 
 dared confide to any other heart the cravings of my 
 own, nor the passionate outbursts of the exaltation 
 of mind that consumes me ; but I may tell you some- 
 thing of them, since we are to part as soon as you 
 are in safety." 
 
 " Part ? — never ! " he exclaimed, electrified by 
 the tones that issued from that strong heart, which 
 seemed to be struggling against some overpowering 
 thought. 
 
 " Are you free ? " she rejoined, with a disdainful 
 glance that cowed him. 
 
 " Oh ! as to that — yes, except for the sentence 
 to death." 
 
 Thereupon she said in a voice trembling with 
 bitter emotion : 
 
 " If all this were not a dream, what a beautiful 
 life ours would be ! But, although I have said some 
 foolish things, let us not do any. When I think
 
 THE CHOUANS I75 
 
 of all that you must be to appreciate me at my true 
 worth, I doubt everything." 
 
 " And I would doubt nothing if you would consent 
 to be—" 
 
 " Hush ! " she cried, distinguishing the accent of 
 veritable passion in the words; "the fresh air is 
 decidedly not good for us, let us join our chaperons." 
 
 The mail-coach soon overtook them, and they re- 
 sumed their places and rode some leagues in the 
 most profound silence. If they had both found 
 ample food for reflection, their eyes were no longer 
 afraid to meet. Each seemed equally interested in 
 watching the other and guarding his or her own mo- 
 mentous secret ; but they felt drawn toward each 
 other by the same desire, which, since their inter- 
 view, narrowed the extent of their passion, for they 
 had mutually discovered in each other, qualities 
 which enhanced in their eyes the pleasures they 
 anticipated from their struggle or their union. Each 
 of them, it may be, having embarked upon an 
 adventurous life, had arrived at that strange mental 
 condition, wherein, whether from weariness or to 
 defy fate, one avoids serious reflections and abandons 
 one's self to the whims of chance in carrying out an 
 enterprise, precisely because there is no way out of 
 it and one is determined to see its inevitable conclu- 
 sion. Has not the moral as well as the physical 
 nature its chasms and abysses into which strong 
 characters love to plunge at the risk of their lives, 
 as a gambler loves to stake his fortune ? The young 
 nobleman and Mademoiselle de Verneuil had, in a
 
 176 THE CHOUANS 
 
 certain sense, a revelation of these ideas, which 
 were in the minds of both after the interview of 
 which they were the consequence, and thus they 
 made suddenly an immense step forward, for sym- 
 pathy of hearts follows sympathy of the senses. 
 Nevertheless, the more strongly they felt drawn to- 
 ward each other, the more interested they were to 
 study each other, were it only to increase, by an 
 involuntary calculation, the sum total of their future 
 enjoyment. 
 
 The young man, still lost in wonder at the pro- 
 fundity of this extraordinary girl's ideas, asked 
 himself first of all how such an extensive knowledge of 
 life could be combined with such youthful freshness. 
 Thereupon he thought that he detected an earnest 
 desire to appear chaste in the air of extreme pru- 
 dery Marie attempted to impart to her attitudes ; he 
 suspected her of pretending, reviled himself for 
 taking pleasure in her company and persuaded him- 
 self that she was nothing more than a clever actress. 
 He was right. Mademoiselle de Verneuil, like all 
 young women, becoming more modest as her passion 
 increased in fervor, most naturally adopted the 
 prudish exterior with which women are so expert in 
 veiling their excessive desires. They would all like 
 to offer themselves as virgins to passion ; and if 
 they are not, their dissimulation is always homage 
 rendered to their love. These reflections passed 
 rapidly through the young nobleman's mind and 
 pleased him. Indeed, for both of them this constant 
 scrutiny was likely to mark progress, and the lover
 
 THE CHOUANS 177 
 
 soon reached that phase of passion in which a man 
 finds in his mistress's very defects, reasons for 
 loving her more dearly. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil maintained her pensive 
 attitude longer than the emigre; perhaps her imagi- 
 nation led her farther into the future ; the young man 
 obeyed some one of the innumerable sentiments he 
 was destined to feel in his man's life, and the young 
 woman saw a whole life before her and took pleasure 
 in planning to make it beautiful, in filling it with 
 happiness and with noble and lofty sentiments. 
 Happy in her thoughts, in love with such fancies as 
 much as with the reality, with the future as with the 
 present, Marie tried to retrace her steps in order to 
 establish her power more firmly over that young 
 heart, acting therein instinctively as all women act. 
 After she had agreed with herself to give herself 
 away absolutely, she desired, so to speak, to dispute 
 about details ; she would have liked to be able 
 to recall all her past actions, her words, her 
 glances, in order to make them harmonize with the 
 dignity befitting a woman who is loved. Thus her 
 eyes at times expressed a sort of terror when she 
 thought of the interview they had just had in which 
 she had been so aggressive. But as she gazed at 
 the other's face, instinct with force of character, she 
 said to herself that so powerful a nature could afford 
 to be generous, and congratulated herself that her lot 
 was more glorious than that of many other women, 
 as she found her lover a man of character, a man 
 condemned to death who was risking his own head 
 12
 
 178 THE CHOUANS 
 
 and making war against tiie Republic. The thought 
 that she might hold undisputed sway in such a heart, 
 soon put a different face upon everything. Between 
 the moment, five hours earlier, when she composed 
 her features and her voice to cajole this same young 
 gentleman, and the present moment when she could 
 confound him with a glance, there was all the differ- 
 ence that there is between a dead and a living world. 
 Hearty laughter, happy coquetries concealed a vast 
 passion, which, like misfortune, presented itself with 
 smiling face. 
 
 In Mademoiselle de Verneuil's existing frame of 
 mind, external life assumed the character of a series 
 of dissolving views. The caleche passed through 
 villages, through valleys, over mountains of which 
 no image remained in her memory. She arrived at 
 Mayenne, the soldiers of the escort were replaced by 
 others, Merle spoke to her, she replied, rode through 
 the town and into the open country once more, but 
 faces, houses, streets, landscape, men passed by 
 like the indistinct shapes of a dream. Night fell. 
 Marie was travelling beneath a diamond-studded sky, 
 bathed in a soft light, on the Foug^res road, without 
 having once thought that the sky had changed its 
 aspect, without knowing where Mayenne was or 
 Foug^res, or where she was going. That within a 
 few hours she could be parted from the man of her 
 heart, by whom she believed herself to be chosen, 
 was not, in her mind, a possibility. Love is the only 
 passion that endures neither past nor future. If her 
 thoughts sometimes betrayed themselves in words,
 
 THE CHOUANS I79 
 
 she uttered sentences that seemed devoid of mean- 
 ing, but that echoed in her lover's heart Uke pro- 
 mises of joy to come. In the eyes of the two wit- 
 nesses of this budding passion, it progressed with 
 terrifying rapidity. Francine knew Marie as well as 
 the unknown female knew the young man, and their 
 past experience made them await in silence some 
 terrible catastrophe. In truth they had not long to 
 wait for the end of the drama, which Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil had so sadly, perhaps unconsciously, 
 called a tragedy. 
 
 When the four travellers were about a league 
 beyond Mayenne, they heard a horse coming toward 
 them at great speed ; when he reached the carriage, 
 the rider leaned from his saddle to look at Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil, who recognized Corentin. 
 That ill-omened personage ventured to make her a 
 sign of intelligence, whose familiarity had in it some- 
 thing degrading ; and then he rode away, having 
 turned her to stone by that gesture instinct with low 
 cunning. The emigre' seemed disagreeably affected 
 by the incident, which certainly did not escape his 
 pretended mother ; but Marie touched him lightly, 
 and seemed by her glance to seek shelter in his 
 heart, as her only place of refuge on earth. There- 
 upon the young man's brow cleared, under the in- 
 fluence of the emotion aroused by the movement 
 with which she had, as if unintentionally, revealed 
 the extent of her attachment. An inexplicable dread 
 had put to flight all coquetry, and love showed its 
 face for a moment unveiled. They held their peace
 
 l8o THE CHOUANS 
 
 as if to prolong the sweetness of that moment. Un- 
 fortunately Madame du Gua, sitting beside them, 
 saw everything ; and, like a miser who gives a feast, 
 she seemed to be doling out the pieces to them and 
 measuring off their lives. 
 
 Absorbed in their happiness, the lovers arrived, 
 unmindful of the distance they had travelled, at that 
 part of the road which runs through the valley of 
 Ernee, the first of the three basins in which the 
 events took place that form a prologue to this nar- 
 rative. At that point, Francine noticed and called 
 attention to certain strange figures that seemed to be 
 moving like shadows among the trees, and the 
 clumps of thorn-broom with which the fields were 
 surrounded. When the coach reached the vicinity 
 of the shadows, a general discharge and bullets 
 whistling over their heads announced to the travellers 
 that the shadows were real flesh and blood. The 
 escort had fallen into an ambuscade. 
 
 At that sharp fusillade. Captain Merle bitterly 
 regretted having fallen in with the error made by 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, who, believing that there 
 was no danger in a rapid night journey, had let him 
 take but sixty men. Acting upon Gerard's orders, 
 the captain at once divided the little troop into two 
 columns to hold the two sides of the road, and each 
 of the two officers led his men at the double quick 
 through the fields of briar and thorn-broom, eager to 
 fall upon the assailants before counting them. The 
 Blues began to beat the thick bushes to right and 
 left with reckless intrepidity, and answered the
 
 THE CHOUANS l8l 
 
 attack of the Chouans by a well-sustained fire into 
 the under brush from which the shots came. Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil's first impulse was to jump out 
 of the caliche and run back far enough to be out of 
 range ; but, being ashamed of her fright, and im- 
 pelled by the feeling that leads one to increase one's 
 stature in the eyes of one's beloved, she stopped 
 and tried to watch the combat coolly. 
 
 The emigre followed her, took her hand and placed 
 it against his heart. 
 
 " I was afraid," she said with a smile ; " but 
 now — " 
 
 At that moment her maid cried out in alarm : 
 
 " Marie, take care ! " 
 
 But when Francine tried to jump from the vehicle, 
 she was prevented by a strong hand. The weight 
 of that enormous hand caused her to cry out, she 
 turned, and held her peace when she recognized the 
 features of Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 "So I shall owe to your terror the revelation of 
 the sweetest secrets of your heart ! " said the stranger 
 to Mademoiselle de Verneuil. *' Thanks to Francine, 
 1 learn that you bear the lovely name of Marie ; 
 Marie, the name I have pronounced in all my suf- 
 fering ! Marie, the name that I shall henceforth call 
 upon in my joy, and shall never utter now without 
 committing sacrilege, by confounding religion and 
 love ! But would it be a crime to pray and to love 
 at the same time ? " 
 
 At those words they exchanged a warm grasp of 
 the hand, gazing into each other's eyes in silence,
 
 1 82 THE CHOUANS 
 
 and the violence of their sensations deprived them 
 of the strength and power to express them. 
 
 " There's no danger for you people!" said Marche- 
 a-Terre roughly to Francine, giving a sinister tone 
 of reproach to his harsh, guttural voice, and dwell- 
 ing upon every word in a way to stupefy the inno- 
 cent peasant girl. 
 
 For the first time, the girl saw a gleam of ferocity 
 in Marche-a-Terre's glance. The moonlight seemed 
 to be the only light adapted to his face. The fierce 
 Breton, holding his cap in one hand, his heavy car- 
 bine in the other, thick-set as a dwarf and envel- 
 oped in the waves of white light that gave such a 
 strange aspect to the moving forms, belonged rather 
 to the land of dreams than to the earth. The 
 spectre and his reproof had something of the rapid 
 movement of phantoms. He turned suddenly to 
 Madame du Gua, with whom he exchanged a few 
 words, and Francine, who had nearly forgotten Bas- 
 Breton, could not understand what they said. The 
 lady seemed to give Marche-a-Terre many orders. 
 Their short conference was brought to a close by an 
 imperious gesture from Madame du Gua calling the 
 Chouan's attention to the lovers. Before obeying, 
 Marche-a-Terre cast a last glance at Francine, for 
 whom he seemed to feel pity ; he would have liked 
 to speak to her, but the girl knew that her lover 
 was silent in obedience to orders. The fellow's 
 hard, tanned skin succeeded in forming wrinkles on 
 his forehead, and his eyebrows contracted violently. 
 Was he resisting his renewed orders to kill Made-
 
 THE CHOUANS 183 
 
 moiselle de Verneuil? The grimace made him more 
 hideous than usual, doubtless, to Madame du Gua, 
 but the gleam in his eyes became almost gentle to 
 Francine, who, divining from that glance that she 
 could force the savage's zeal to bend beneath her 
 woman's will, hoped still to reign, after God, over 
 that untutored heart. 
 
 Marie's beatific interview with her lover was in- 
 terupted by Madame du Gua, who rushed up to her, 
 crying out as if some danger threatened her ; but 
 she simply wished to give one of the members of 
 the Royalist committee of Alengion, whom she re- 
 cognized, an opportunity to speak to the 'emigre. 
 
 " Distrust the girl you met at the Trois Maures! " 
 
 Having whispered those words in the young man's 
 ear, the Chevalier de Valois, who was riding a 
 small Breton horse, disappeared among the bushes 
 from which he had come. At that moment the fir- 
 ing was remarkably sharp and well-sustained, but 
 the two parties had not met hand to hand. 
 
 " Adjutant, isn't this a false attack to get posses- 
 sion of our travellers and force a ransom from 
 them? — " asked Clef-des-Coeurs. 
 
 " Your feet are in their shoes, the devil take me 
 if they're not!" replied Gerard, flying out on the 
 road. 
 
 At that moment the fire of the Chouans slackened, 
 for the communication the chevalier made to the 
 young chief was the only object of the skirmish. 
 Merle, when he saw them gliding away in small 
 numbers through the hedges, thought it inadvisable
 
 l84 THE CHOUANS 
 
 to engage in a dangerous and useless attempt to fol- 
 low them. Gerard with a word or two, drew up 
 the escort on the road, and resumed his march with- 
 out loss. The captain was able to offer his hand to 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil to assist her into the 
 coach, for the young nobleman stood as if struck by 
 lightning. The Parisian, greatly surprised, resumed 
 her seat without accepting the Republican's proffered 
 assistance ; she turned her head toward her lover, 
 saw that he was standing motionless, and was stu- 
 pefied at the sudden change that the horseman's 
 mysterious words had made in him. The young 
 emigre returned slowly and his manner denoted pro- 
 found disgust. 
 
 " Wasn't I right? " said Madame du Gua in the 
 young man's ear as she led him back to the car- 
 riage ; " we are certainly in the hands of a creature 
 with whom some bargain has been made for your 
 head ; but, as she is fool enough to fall in love with 
 you, instead of following her trade, don't you go 
 and act like a child, but pretend to be in love with 
 her till we reach La Viveti^re. — Once there ! — But 
 suppose he is really in love with her now.? " she 
 said to herself when she saw the young man sitting 
 in his seat as if he were fast asleep.
 
 The caleche rolled heavily along over the sandy 
 road. At the first glance Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 cast about her, everything seemed to have changed. 
 Death was already gliding into her love. Perhaps 
 there were only slight shades of difference ; but in 
 the eyes of every loving woman such shades are as 
 clearly marked as the brightest colors. Francine 
 had understood from Marche-a-Terre's expression 
 that her mistress's fate, over which she had bade 
 him keep watch, was in other hands than his, and 
 her face was as pale as death, nor could she restrain 
 her tears when her mistress glanced at her. Ma- 
 dame du Gua had but ill success in concealing 
 beneath false smiles the malevolence of a woman 
 whose vengeance is at hand, and the sudden change 
 that her obsequious affability to Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil produced in her bearing, her voice and her 
 countenance was calculated to inspire dread in a 
 keen-sighted person. Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 shivered instinctively, saying to herself : 
 " Why do I shiver ? — She is his mother." 
 But she trembled in every limb as the thought 
 suddenly passed through her mind : 
 
 " Is she really his mother ? " 
 
 (185)
 
 l86 THE CHOUANS 
 
 She caught a glimpse of a bottomless pit, which a 
 last glance at the young man revealed to her dis- 
 tinctly. 
 
 " That woman loves him ! " she thought. " But 
 why does she overwhelm me with politeness after 
 being so cold to me ? Am 1 lost ? Is she afraid of 
 me ? " 
 
 Meanwhile the young noble turned pale and red 
 alternately, but maintained a calm attitude, lower- 
 ing his eyes to conceal the conflicting emotions by 
 which he was torn. His lips were pressed violently 
 together so that their graceful curve was destroyed, 
 and his color faded with the struggle of stormy 
 thoughts. Mademoiselle de Verneuil could not even 
 guess if there was still aught of love in his frenzy. 
 The road, lined by woods on both sides at that 
 spot, grew dark and prevented the silent actors 
 from questioning each other with their eyes. The 
 murmur of the wind, the rustling of the treetops, the 
 measured tread of the escort gave to the scene a 
 solemn character that quickened the beating of the 
 heart. Mademoiselle de Verneuil could not long 
 seek in vain the cause of this change. The memory 
 of Corentin passed through her mind like a flash of 
 lightning and brought with it the image of her real 
 destiny, which suddenly confronted her. For the 
 first time since the morning, she reflected seriously 
 upon her position. Until that moment she had 
 abandoned herself to the joy of loving, heedless of 
 herself and the future. Unable longer to endure her 
 suffering, she sought, she awaited, with the gentle
 
 THE CHOUANS 187 
 
 patience of love, a glance from the young man's 
 eyes, and implored it so earnestly, her pallor and 
 her trembling were so touchingly eloquent, that he 
 wavered ; but the shock was only the more com- 
 plete. 
 
 " Are you ill, mademoiselle ? " he asked. 
 
 The entire absence of affection in the voice, the 
 very question, the look, the gesture, everything 
 served to convince the poor girl that the events of 
 that day were part of a mirage of the heart, which 
 was fast vanishing like the half-formed clouds that 
 the wind whirls away. 
 
 "Am I ill?" she replied with a forced laugh; 
 " I was about to ask you the same question." 
 
 "I thought that you understood each other," 
 said Madame du Gua with feigned amiabil- 
 ity. 
 
 Neither the young man nor Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil replied. The girl, doubly insulted, was cha- 
 grined to find her potent beauty impotent. She 
 knew that she could ascertain the cause of the pre- 
 sent condition of affairs whenever she chose ; but, 
 as she had little curiosity about it, the phenomenon 
 of a woman shrinking from a secret was seen, it 
 may be, for the first time. Human life is lamen- 
 tably fruitful in situations in which, as the result of 
 too profound meditation or of some catastrophe, our 
 ideas cease to cohere, are without substance, with- 
 out a starting-point, and in which the present finds 
 nothing to connect it with the past or with the 
 future. Such was Mademoiselle de Verneuil's con-.
 
 l88 THE CHOUANS 
 
 dition. She lay back in the back seat of the car- 
 riage like an uprooted tree. Silent and suffering, 
 she looked at nobody, wrapped herself in her grief, 
 and so exerted her will to remain in the unknown 
 world in which the unhappy take refuge, that she 
 saw absolutely nothing. Crows flew cawing over 
 their heads ; but, although like all strong minds, she 
 reserved a corner of her heart for superstitions, she 
 paid no heed to them. They rode for some time in 
 silence. 
 
 " Parted already ! " said Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 to herself. " And yet, nobody about me spoke. 
 Can it be that Corentin ! It would not be to his in- 
 terest. Then who can have risen up to accuse me ? 
 Our love hardly begun, and the horror of desertion 
 already upon me ! I sow love and reap scorn. It 
 must be my destiny to see happiness within my 
 grasp and to lose it ! " 
 
 She had an unfamiliar sense of trouble in her 
 heart, for she was really in love and for the first 
 time. However, she had not abandoned herself so 
 entirely to her love that she could not find resources 
 against her grief in the natural pride of a young and 
 beautiful woman. The secret of her love, the secret 
 often kept under torture, had not escaped her. She 
 drew herself up, and, being ashamed to allow her pas- 
 sion to be measured by her silent suffering, she shook 
 her head gayly, exhibited a smiling face, or rather 
 mask, and struggled to restrain the emotion in her 
 voice. 
 
 "Where are we?" she asked Captain Merle,
 
 THE CHOUANS 189 
 
 who was always within a short distance of the 
 coach. 
 
 " Three leagues and a half from Foug^res, made- 
 moiselle. 
 
 "Shall we arrive there soon ? " she said, to en- 
 courage the young captain to enter into a conversa- 
 tion in which she promised herself that she would 
 be very gracious to him. 
 
 "The leagues are not long ones," replied the de- 
 lighted Merle; "but in this region they take the 
 liberty of never coming to an end. When you are 
 at the top of the hill we are climbing, you will see 
 a valley like the one we are leaving, and you can 
 see the summit of La Pelerine on the horizon. God 
 grant that the Chouans may not take their revenge 
 there ! You can see that as we are constantly going 
 up and down, we make little progress. From La 
 Pelerine you can see — " 
 
 At that name the emigre started for the second 
 time, but so slightly that only Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil noticed the movement. 
 
 " What is this Pelerine," she asked quickly, in- 
 terrupting the captain, who was deep in his Breton 
 topography. 
 
 "It is a mountain which gives its name to the 
 valley of Maine that we are about to enter, and 
 which separates that province from the valley of 
 Couesnon, at the further end of which lies Foug^res, 
 the first town in Bretagne. We fought there, in the 
 latter part of Vendemiaire, with the Gars and his brig- 
 ands. We were convoying conscripts, who, in order
 
 190 THE CHOUANS 
 
 not to leave their province, tried to kill us all on 
 the edge of it ; but Hulot's a rough Christian and 
 gave them — " 
 
 "Then you must have seen the Gars?" she 
 asked. " What sort of a looking man is he ? " 
 
 Her keen, mischievous eyes did not move from 
 the face of the pretended Vicomte de Bauvan. 
 
 " Oh ! mon Dieu, mademoiselle," said Merle, in 
 reply to this second interruption, " he looks so much 
 like Citizen du Qua, that if he weren't wearing the 
 uniform of the Ecole Polytechnique, I'd wager he 
 was the man." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil gazed fixedly at the cold, 
 impassive young man who treated her with con- 
 tempt, but she could detect nothing that betrayed a 
 feeling of fear ; she informed him by a bitter smile 
 of her discovery at that moment of the secret so 
 treacherously kept by him ; then, in a mocking 
 voice, her nostrils swelling with joy and her head 
 on one side so that she could keep her eye on the 
 young nobleman and see Merle at the same time, she 
 said to the latter : 
 
 "That young officer, captain, causes the First 
 Consul much uneasiness. He is very daring they 
 say ; but he goes into certain rash enterprises 
 like an idiot, especially v/here women are con- 
 cerned." 
 
 " We rely upon that trait," said the captain, " to 
 enable us to settle our account with him. If we 
 could get hold of him for a couple of hours, we'd 
 put a little lead in his head. If he should fall in
 
 THE CHOUANS 19I 
 
 with us, Coblentz would do as much by us and put 
 out our lights ; and so, par pari — " 
 
 " Oh ! we have nothing to fear," said the emigre. 
 " Your men can't go as far as La Pelerine, they are 
 too tired, and, if you consent, they can rest within 
 a few steps of this place. My mother is to leave 
 the coach at La Vivetiere, and the road leading to it 
 is within a gunshot or two. The ladies would both 
 be glad to rest, they must be very much fatigued, 
 having come from Alengon without a stop ! — And 
 then," he added with forced politeness, turning to 
 his mistress, "Mademoiselle has been generous 
 enough to make our journey no less safe than agree- 
 able, perhaps she will deign to accept my mother's 
 invitation to supper. — At all events, captain," he 
 added, addressing Merle once more, "the times are 
 not so out of joint that we can't still find a cask of 
 cider for your men to broach at La Vivetiere. The 
 Gars can't have taken it all ; at least my mother 
 thinks not — " 
 
 "Your mother?" Mademoiselle de Verneuil re- 
 peated, interrupting him ironically, and making no 
 reply to his strange invitation to her. 
 
 " My age seems incredible to you this evening 
 eh, mademoiselle ? " said Madame du Gua. " I had 
 the misfortune to be married very young, my son 
 was born when I was fifteen — " 
 
 " Aren't you mistaken, madame ? weren't you 
 thirty } " 
 
 Madame du Gua turned pale as she swallowed 
 this sarcasm ; she longed to be able to take her 
 
 •to^
 
 192 THE CHOUANS 
 
 revenge, but she was forced to smile, for she desired 
 at any cost, even at the cost of the most biting epi- 
 grams, to ascertain what feeling really actuated the 
 girl ; and so she pretended not to understand. 
 
 " The Chouans never had a more cruel leader 
 than this one, if we are to believe the current reports 
 concerning him," she said, addressing Francine and 
 her mistress at once. 
 
 " Oh ! as to his being cruel, I don't believe it," 
 replied Mademoiselle de Verneuil ; "but he knows 
 how to lie and seems to me very credulous ; the 
 leader of a party ought not to be anyone's play- 
 thing." 
 
 " Do you know him ? " asked the young emigre 
 coolly. 
 
 " No," she rejoined, with a scornful glance, " I 
 thought 1 knew him — " 
 
 " Oh ! mademoiselle, he's a malin beyond ques- 
 tion ! ** said the captain, shaking his head, and ex- 
 pressing with a significant gesture the peculiar mean- 
 ing then attaching to that word, which it has since 
 lost. " These old families sometimes put out vigor- 
 ous shoots. He returns from a country where the 
 ci-devants haven't been altogether comfortable, so 
 they say ; and men, you see, are like medlars, they 
 ripen on the straw. If that fellow is clever, he will 
 keep us running after him a long while. He has 
 known enough to fight our free companies with 
 skirmishers and to neutralize the efforts of the govern- 
 ment. If one Royalist village is burned, he burns 
 two Republican villages. He covers a vast extent
 
 THE CHOUANS 193 
 
 of territory and thus forces us to employ a large 
 number of troops at a time when we have none too 
 many ! — Oh ! he knows his business." 
 
 " He assassinates his native country ! " said 
 Gerard's deep voice, interrupting the captain. 
 
 " If his death will relieve the country," rejoined 
 the nobleman, " pray, shoot him at once." 
 
 With that, he proceeded to probe Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil's mind with a glance, and there ensued be- 
 tween them one of those silent scenes of which the 
 tongue can reproduce but very imperfectly the 
 dramatic vivacity and the illusive finesse. Danger 
 arouses interest. When it is a matter of life and 
 death, the vilest criminal always excites a little pity. 
 Now, although Mademoiselle de Verneuil was certain 
 at that time that the lover who disdained her was 
 this redoubtable Royalist leader, she did not wish as 
 yet to make sure of it by his punishment ; she had a 
 curiosity of a very different sort to satisfy. She 
 preferred therefore to doubt or to believe according 
 as her passion moved her, and she began to play 
 with the danger. Her glance, alive with mocking 
 perfidy, called the young nobleman's attention to 
 the soldiers with an air of triumph ; by bringing him 
 thus face to face with the image of his danger, she 
 amused herself by forcing him to feel that his life 
 depended upon a single word, and her lips seemed 
 to be already moving to utter it. Like an American 
 savage, she questioned the muscles of her enemy's 
 face as he stood bound to the stake, and brandished 
 her tomahawk gracefully, tasting the joys of innocent 
 13
 
 194 THE CHOUANS 
 
 vengeance, and punishing like a mistress who still 
 loves. 
 
 " If I had a son like yours, madame," she said to 
 Madame du Gua, who was visibly terrified, " I 
 would wear mourning for him on the day that I 
 abandoned him to danger." 
 
 She received no reply. Twenty times she turned 
 her face to the officers and turned it sharply back to 
 Madame du Gua, but did not succeed in surprising 
 between her and the Gars any secret signal to con- 
 firm an intimacy which she suspected, and as to 
 which she wished to remain in doubt. A woman is so 
 fond of hesitating in a life and death struggle, when 
 she holds the decree ! The young general smiled 
 with his calmest manner, and endured without 
 flinching the torture that Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 forced him to undergo ; his attitude and the expres- 
 sion of his face denoted a man heedless of the 
 dangers by which he was surrounded, and some- 
 times he seemed to say to her : " Here is the oppor- 
 tunity to avenge your wounded vanity, seize it ! 1 
 should be in despair if I had to renounce my con- 
 tempt for you." Mademoiselle de Verneuil began 
 to scrutinize him from the height of her position with 
 an impertinence and a dignity that were only ap- 
 parent, for, at the bottom of her heart, she admired 
 his courage and calmness. Overjoyed to learn that 
 her lover bore an ancient title, whose privileges are 
 agreeable to every woman, she was conscious of 
 some pleasure in meeting him in a situation where, 
 as the champion of a cause ennobled by misfortune,
 
 THE CHOUANS 195 
 
 he was struggling with ail the faculties of a powerful 
 mind, against a Republic so many times victorious, 
 and in seeing him face to face with danger, display- 
 ing the personal bravery that exerts such a power 
 over the female heart ; twenty times she put him to 
 the test, obeying perhaps the instinct that impels a 
 woman to play with her prey as the cat plays with 
 the mouse she has caught. 
 
 " By virtue of what law, pray, do you condemn 
 Chouans to death ? " she asked Merle. 
 
 "Why, by the law of the 14th Fructidor last, 
 which declares all the revolted departments outside 
 the law, and establishes martial law in them," replied 
 the Republican. 
 
 " To what do 1 now owe the honor of attracting 
 your glances ? " she asked the young chief, who was 
 examining her closely. 
 
 "To a sentiment which no gentleman could 
 express to any lady whomsoever," replied the Mar- 
 quis de Montauran in an undertone, leaning toward 
 her, — "One must have lived in these times," he 
 said aloud, "to see young girls performing the 
 functions of the executioner and outdoing him by 
 the way in which they play with the axe." 
 
 She gazed fixedly at Montauran ; then, delighted 
 to be insulted by him at the very moment that she 
 held his life in her hands, she said in his ear, with a 
 soft, sly laugh : 
 
 " You have too wicked a head, the executioners 
 wouldn't want it, so I'll keep it." 
 
 The stupefied marquis gazed for a moment at the
 
 196 THE CHOUANS 
 
 inexplicable creature, whose love triumplied over 
 everything, even the most biting insults, and who 
 avenged herself by forgiving an outrage that women 
 never forgive. His eyes were less stern, less cold, 
 and even a melancholy expression stole over his 
 features. His passion was stronger already than 
 he himself thought. Mademoiselle de Verneuil, con- 
 tent with this feeble pledge of the reconciliation she 
 had sought, bestowed a tender glance upon him and 
 a smile that resembled a kiss ; then she threw her- 
 self back in her seat, not choosing to risk any farther 
 the future of that drama of happiness, believing that 
 she had tied the knot with that smile. She was so 
 lovely ! she knew so well how to triumph over 
 obstacles in love ! she was so thoroughly accustomed 
 to make sport of everything, to trust to chance ! 
 she was so fond of the unexpected and the tempests 
 of life. 
 
 Soon, at the marquis's order, the carriage left the 
 main road and turned into a narrow lane leading to 
 La Vivetiere, between high banks planted with 
 apple trees, which made of it a ditch rather than a 
 road. The travellers left the Blues behind to make 
 their way more slowly to the manor-house, whose 
 grayish peaks appeared and disappeared among the 
 trees along the road, where some of the soldiers 
 were busily engaged disputing possession of their 
 shoes with the heavy clay. 
 
 " This strongly resembles the road to paradise ! '* 
 cried Beau-Pied. 
 
 Thanks to the expert management of the postilion,
 
 THE CHOUANS 197 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil soon saw the chateau of 
 La Vivetiere. It was situated on the ridge of a sort 
 of promontory, between two deep ponds, so that it 
 was impossible to reach it except by keeping closely 
 to a causeway. The part of this peninsula occupied 
 by the buildings and the gardens was protected to a 
 considerable distance behind the chateau by a broad 
 ditch which received the superfluous water from the 
 two ponds with which it was connected, and thus in 
 reality formed an almost impregnable island, an 
 invaluable retreat for a leader who could be surprised 
 only by treachery. 
 
 When she heard the gate creak on its rusty hinges 
 and saw that they were beneath the ogive arch of a 
 gateway ruined in the previous war, Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil put out her head. The gloomy colors 
 of the picture presented to her view effaced almost 
 completely the thoughts of love and coquetry in 
 which she had found such consolation. The carriage 
 entered a large, almost square courtyard, bordered 
 by the steep banks of the ponds. Those wild 
 banks, bathed by the green, slimy waters of the 
 ponds, had no other embellishment than aquatic trees 
 devoid of leaves, whose stunted trunks with enor- 
 mous hoary heads, rising above the reeds and bushes, 
 resembled grotesque monkeys. Their ungraceful 
 rows seemed to become alive and to speak when the 
 frogs fled from them, croaking loudly, and the moor- 
 hens, awakened by the rumbling of the coach, 
 fluttered splashing over the surface of the ponds. 
 The courtyard, overgrown with tall, withered
 
 198 ' THE CHOUANS 
 
 weeds, thorn-broom, dwarfed or parasitic shrubs, 
 was far removed from aught resembling order 
 or beauty. The chateau seemed to have been 
 abandoned for a long while. The roofs seemed 
 to bend beneath the weight of the vegetation 
 that abounded there. The walls, although con- 
 structed of the hard, slaty stone in which the 
 country abounds, presented numerous crevices to 
 which the ivy attached its claws. Two wings at 
 right angles connected by a high tower and facing 
 the pond, composed the whole of the chateau whose 
 rotting doors and shutters, rusty balustrades and 
 ruined windows seemed certain to fall with the first 
 breath of a storm. The north wind was blowing 
 through the ruins at that time, and the uncertain 
 moonlight imparted to them the features and char- 
 acter of a huge spectre. One must have seen the 
 colors of those gray and blue granitic stones, mingled 
 with the black and yellow slates, to realize the truth 
 of the picture presented by the sight of that empty, 
 frowning carcass. The disjointed stones, the win- 
 dows without panes, the crenelated tower, the di- 
 lapidated roofs gave it altogether the appearance of 
 a skeleton ; and the birds of prey that flew about 
 crying overhead, added yet more to the vague re- 
 semblance. A few tall firs, planted behind the house, 
 waved their dark foliage above the roof, and yew- 
 trees, trimmed to decorate the corners, framed the 
 buildings in melancholy festoons, like the hangings 
 of a funeral procession. The shape of the doors too, 
 the coarseness of the decorations, the lack of uni-
 
 THE CHOUANS 199 
 
 formity in the buildings, all denoted one of the 
 feudal manor-houses of which Bretagne was so proud, 
 and with good reason perhaps, for they formed a 
 sort of monumental history upon that Gaelic ter- 
 ritory of the nebulous times preceding the estab- 
 lishment of the monarchy. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, to whose mind the 
 word chateau always suggested a structure of the 
 conventional type, was profoundly impressed by the 
 dismal features of the picture ; she jumped lightly 
 to the ground, and standing by herself, gazed at it 
 in terror, reflecting as to the course she had better 
 pursue. Francine heard Madame du Gua give vent 
 to a sigh of joy at finding herself out of reach of the 
 Blues, and an involuntary exclamation escaped her 
 when the gate was closed and she saw that they were 
 shut up in that natural fortress. Montauran had 
 hurried to Mademoiselle de Verneuil's side, divining 
 the thoughts by which she was absorbed. 
 
 " This chateau," he said with a slight inflection 
 of melancholy in his tone, " has been ruined by 
 war, as the plans I was constructing for our happiness 
 have been ruined by you." 
 
 " How, pray ? " she asked in great surprise. 
 
 "Are you a lovely, NOBLE and bright young 
 woman?" he said ironically, repeating the words 
 she had coquettishly uttered during their con- 
 versation on the road. 
 
 " Who has told you the contrary ? " 
 
 " Friends worthy of belief, who are interested in my 
 safety and are on the watch to defeat treachery."
 
 200 THE CHOUANS 
 
 "Treachery!" she repeated mockingly. "Are 
 Alenfon and Hulot already so far away ? You have 
 no memory, a dangerous fault for the leader of a 
 party ! — But, as your friends reign so absolutely in 
 your heart," she added, with rare impertinence, 
 " keep your friends. Nothing is comparable to the 
 pleasures of friendship. Adieu ! neither myself 
 nor the soldiers of the Republic will enter these 
 walls." 
 
 She rushed to the gate, impelled by wounded 
 pride and disdain, but there was a nobleness and 
 a despair in her very gait that changed all the 
 marquis's ideas ; it cost him too dearly to renounce 
 his desires for him not to be credulous and impru- 
 dent. He also was in love. Neither of the two 
 lovers had any wish to prolong their quarrel. 
 
 " Add one word and I believe you," he said in a 
 tone of entreaty. 
 
 " A word ? " she repeated ironically, pressing her 
 lips together, " a word ? Not even a gesture ! " 
 
 " At least, scold me," he continued, trying to take 
 a hand which she withheld ; " if, however, you 
 dare to sulk with a rebel leader, now as suspicious 
 and threatening as he recently was trustful and 
 joyous." 
 
 Marie having looked at him without anger, he 
 added : 
 
 " You have my secret and I haven't yours." 
 
 At those words the alabaster brow seemed to grow 
 dark. Marie glanced angrily at the marquis and 
 answered :
 
 THE CHOUANS 20I 
 
 " My secret ? never ! " 
 
 In love, every word, every glance has its mo- 
 mentary eloquence ; but Mademoiselle de Verneuil's 
 words expressed nothing definite, and, clever as 
 Montauran was, the secret of her exclamation was 
 impenetrable, although her voice betrayed extra- 
 ordinary emotion which must have keenly piqued 
 his curiosity. 
 
 " You have a pleasant way of banishing sus- 
 picions," he rejoined. 
 
 " Do you still retain suspicions of me? " she 
 asked, looking him in the face as if she would have 
 said : " Have you any rights over me? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he replied, with a submissive 
 but firm manner, "your power over the Republican 
 troops, this escort of yours — " 
 
 " Ah ! you remind me. Will my escort and my- 
 self, your protectors in fact, be safe here? " she 
 asked in a slightly ironical tone. 
 
 "Yes, on my word as a gentleman. Whoever 
 you may be, you and yours have nothing to fear 
 under my roof." 
 
 The words were uttered in obedience to such a 
 loyal and generous impulse that Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil could but feel entirely at ease as to the 
 safety of the Republicans. She was about to speak 
 when Madame du Gua's arrival imposed silence 
 upon her. That lady had succeeded in overhearing 
 or in guessing at a portion of the conversation be- 
 tween the lovers, and had conceived no little anxiety 
 when she saw them in a position which no longer
 
 202 THE CHOUANS 
 
 denoted the slightest hostility. When he caught 
 sight of her, the marquis offered Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil his hand and walked quickly toward the 
 house, as if to shake off an undesirable companion. 
 
 "I am in the way!" said Madame du Gua to 
 herself, remaining where she stood. 
 
 She watched the two reconciled lovers walking 
 slowly toward the main entrance to the house, 
 where they stopped to talk as soon as they had left 
 her some distance behind. 
 
 "Yes, yes, I am in the way!" she repeated; 
 " but in a little while that creature will cease to be 
 in my way ; the pond shall be her grave, pardieu. — 
 Shall I not keep your word as a gentleman? once 
 under the water, what has one to fear? won't she 
 be in a place of safety? " 
 
 She was gazing fixedly at the calm mirror-like 
 surface of the little lake on the right, when suddenly 
 she heard a rustling among the reeds on the bank, 
 and saw in the moonlight the figure of Marche-a- 
 Terre, rising out of the rough bark of an old willow. 
 One must have known the Chouan well to distin- 
 guish him amid that assemblage of distorted trunks 
 with which his was so easily confused. Madame 
 du Gua first glanced suspiciously around ; she saw 
 the postilion leading his horses to the stables in that 
 wing of the chateau that faced the bank where 
 Marche-a-Terre was in hiding ; she saw Francine 
 walking toward the lovers who at that moment were 
 oblivious of the whole earth ; then she walked for- 
 ward, putting her finger to her lips to enjoin silence,
 
 THE CHOUANS 203 
 
 and the Chouan saw rather than heard the follow- 
 ing words : 
 
 " How many of you are here? " 
 
 " Eighty-seven." 
 
 " There are only sixty -five of them, I counted 
 them." 
 
 " Good," replied the fellow, with savage satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 Closely observant of Francine's slightest gesture, 
 the Chouan disappeared in the shell of the willow 
 when he saw her turn to look for her enemy, whom 
 she instinctively kept her eye upon. 
 
 Seven or eight persons, attracted by the rumbling 
 of the carriage, appeared at the top of the main 
 staircase and cried : 
 
 " It's the Gars ! — it's he, here he is ! " 
 
 These exclamations brought other men to the 
 spot, and their presence interrupted the conversa- 
 tion between the two lovers. The Marquis de 
 Montauran rushed up to the gentlemen, enjoined 
 silence upon them by an imperative gesture and 
 pointed to the end of the avenue, where the Republi- 
 can soldiers were just coming in sight. At sight of 
 the well-known blue uniforms with red lapels and 
 the gleaming bayonets, the amazed conspirators 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Have you come here to betray us.? " 
 
 " I should not have warned you of the danger in 
 that case," replied the marquis, smiling bitterly. — 
 " Yonder Blues," he continued after a pause, "form 
 the escort of this young lady, whose generous inter-
 
 204 THE CHOUANS 
 
 position saved us as by a miracle from a serious 
 dant^er to which we very nearly fell victims at an 
 inn in Alengon, We will tell you the story. Made- 
 moiselle and her escort are here on the faith of my 
 word, and they must be welcomed as friends." 
 
 Meanwhile Madame du Gua and Francine had ar- 
 rived at the steps, the marquis gallantly offered his 
 hand to Mademoiselle de Verneuil, the group of 
 gentlemen stood aside in two lines to allow them to 
 pass, and all of them tried to see the stranger's 
 features, for Madame du Gua had already intensi- 
 fied their curiosity by divers stealthy signs. In the 
 first room Mademoiselle de Verneuil saw a large 
 table handsomely laid for twenty guests. This 
 dining-room communicated with a vast salon where 
 the whole party were soon assembled. The two 
 rooms harmonized with the general aspect of ruin 
 presented by the outside of the chateau. The 
 wainscoting of polished walnut, coarsely and roughly 
 made and wretchedly carved, was cracked and bulg- 
 ing and seemed ready to fall. Its dark color in- 
 creased the dismal aspect of the mirrorless, curtain- 
 less apartments, where the few pieces of venerable 
 furniture were in harmony with the dilapidated 
 whole. Marie saw maps and plans laid out upon a 
 large table, and in corners of the room stacks of 
 carbines and other weapons. Everything indicated 
 an important conference between the leaders of the 
 Vendeans and those of the Chouans. The marquis 
 escorted Mademoiselle de Verneuil to a vast worm- 
 eaten easy-chair that stood near the hearth, and
 
 THE CHOUANS 20$ 
 
 Francine took her place beside her mistress, leaning 
 on the back of that antique piece of furniture. 
 
 " You will permit me to perform the duties of host 
 for a moment ? " said the marquis, leaving the two 
 strangers and mingling with the groups of his guests. 
 
 Francine noticed that all the leaders, at a word 
 from Montauran, made haste to conceal their 
 weapons, the maps and everything likely to arouse 
 the suspicions of the Republican officers ; some laid 
 aside their broad leather belts containing pistols and 
 hunting knives. The marquis urged the greatest 
 discretion and then left the room, excusing himself 
 on the ground of the necessity of providing for the 
 inconvenient guests whom chance had sent him. 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, who had stretched out 
 her feet to warm them at the fire, allowed Montau- 
 ran to go without turning her head and defeated the 
 hopes of the guests, all of whom were anxious to see 
 her face. Francine only, therefore, witnessed the 
 change produced by the young leader's departure. 
 The gentlemen formed in a group about Madame du 
 Gua, and there was not one of them who did not 
 look more than once at the two strangers during 
 their whispered conversation with her. 
 
 " You know Montauran ! " she said to them ; " he 
 fell in love all in a moment with this girl, and you 
 can understand that the best advice, from my lips, 
 seemed suspicious to him. Our friends in Paris, 
 Messieurs de Valois and D'Esgrignon of Alengon, 
 warned him of the trap they meant to set for him 
 by throwing a woman at his head, and yet he takes
 
 206 THE CHOUANS 
 
 up with the first one he meets ; a girl who, accord- 
 ing to such information as I have been able to 
 gather, assumes a great name in order to dishonor 
 it, who — etc., etc." 
 
 This lady, in whom the reader will have recog- 
 nized the female who gave the orders for the attack 
 on the turgotme, will continue to bear in this narra- 
 tive the name under cover of which she eluded the 
 dangers that threatened her at Alenjon. The pub- 
 lication of her real name would serve only to wound 
 a noble family, already deeply afflicted by the mis- 
 deeds of this young woman, whose destiny, by the 
 way, has been made the subject of another Scene. 
 The curiosity of the assemblage soon became imper- 
 tinent and almost hostile. Some decidedly harsh 
 exclamations reached the ears of Francine, who, 
 after whispering a word to her mistress, took refuge 
 in a window recess. Marie rose, turned toward the 
 insolent group and met their glances with a dignified, 
 even scornful expression. Her beauty, her refined 
 manners and her haughtiness effected a sudden 
 change in the disposition of her enemies and drew 
 from them a flattering murmur. Two or three men, 
 whose exterior betrayed those habits of courtesy 
 and gallantry which are acquired in the exalted 
 sphere of courts, approached Marie with perfect 
 courtesy ; her calm reserve imposed respect on them 
 and not one of them dared address her ; far from 
 being accused by them, she seemed to be passing 
 judgment upon them. 
 
 The leaders in this war, undertaken for God and
 
 THE CHOUANS 20/ 
 
 the king, bore but little resemblance to the fanciful 
 portraits she had amused herself by drawing in her 
 mind. The struggle, veritably a grand struggle, 
 was reduced to pitifully mean proportions in her 
 eyes, when, with the exception of two or three 
 vigorous, powerful faces, she saw none but petty 
 provincial squires, all alike without expression or 
 animation. After soaring in the realms of poetry, 
 Marie suddenly fell back into reality. Those faces 
 seemed to denote, first of all, a liking for intrigue 
 rather than a love of glory ; self-interest was really 
 the cause for which all those gentlemen took up 
 arms ; and, even if they should become heroes on 
 the battlefield, in that room they appeared as they 
 were. The destruction of her illusions made Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil unjust and prevented her from 
 recognizing the genuine devotion that made several 
 of those men so remarkable. However, most of 
 them did display great vulgarity in their manners. 
 If some few noteworthy faces stood out among the 
 others, their effect was diminished by the forms and 
 etiquette of the aristocracy. Although Marie ac- 
 corded them as a whole, shrewdness and intelligence, 
 she found them completely lacking in the magnifi- 
 cent simplicity to which the men of the Republic 
 and its triumphs had acccustomed her. This noc- 
 turnal assemblage in the old ruined castle among the 
 dilapidated decorations well assorted with the faces 
 of the participants, made her smile, she chose to see 
 therein a symbolical picture of the monarchy. Soon 
 she thought, with keen delight, that, at all events,
 
 208 THE CHOUANS 
 
 the marquis played the leading role among these 
 men, whose only merit in her eyes was their devo- 
 tion to a lost cause. She sketched the figure of her 
 lover against that group, amused herself by making 
 it stand out in bold relief, and saw in those thin, 
 gaunt faces naught but the instruments of his noble 
 schemes.
 
 At that moment the marquis's steps were heard 
 in the adjoining room. The conspirators suddenly 
 separated into several groups and the whispering 
 ceased. Like school children who had been plotting 
 mischief in their master's absence, they made a great 
 affectation of orderliness and silence. Montauran 
 entered the room and Marie had the satisfaction of 
 admiring him as he stood amid his guests, of whom 
 he was the youngest, the comeliest, the first. Like 
 a king holding court, he went from group to group, 
 distributed slight nods, grasps of the hand, glances, 
 words of intelligence or reproof, performing his part 
 as leader of a party, with a grace and self-possession 
 difficult to understand in the young man she had at 
 first accused of frivolity. The marquis's presence 
 put an end to the curious scrutiny to which Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil had been subjected ; but before 
 long the malevolent suggestions of Madame du Gua 
 produced their effect. The Baron du Guenic, known 
 as the Intime, who alone, among all those men 
 brought together by momentous affairs, seemed au- 
 thorized by his name and rank to deal familiarly with 
 Montauran, took him by the arm and led him into a 
 
 corner. 
 
 14 (209)
 
 210 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " My dear marquis," he said, " it pains us to see 
 that you are on the point of doing a terribly foolish 
 thing." 
 
 " What do you mean by such words ? " 
 
 " Why, don't you really know where this girl 
 comes from, who she really is, and what her designs 
 are upon you ? " 
 
 "My dear Intime, between ourselves, my whim 
 will be at an end to-morrow morning." 
 
 "Very good; but suppose the creature betrays 
 you before daybreak .-' " 
 
 " I will answer that question when you tell me 
 why she hasn't done it already," rejoined Montau- 
 ran, assuming by way of jest a conceited air. 
 
 "Why, if you have made an impression on her, 
 perhaps she doesn't want to betray you till her whim 
 has passed." 
 
 " My dear fellow, look at that charming girl, study 
 her manners and then dare to say that she's not a 
 woman of distinction ! If she should bestow favor- 
 able glances on you, wouldn't you feel in the bottom 
 of your heart, some respect for her ? A certain per- 
 son has already prejudiced you against her ; but, 
 after what we have said to each other, if she were 
 one of those abandoned creatures of whom our friends 
 have told us, I would kill her." 
 
 " Do you suppose," interposed Madame du Gua, 
 " that Fouche is fool enough to send you a girl picked 
 up on a street corner 1 He proportions the seductions 
 to your merits. But if you are blind, your friends 
 will have their eyes open to keep watch over you."
 
 THE CHOUANS 211 
 
 " Madame," replied the Gars, with an angry- 
 glance at her, "do not think of taking any steps 
 against that young woman or against her escort, or 
 nothing will protect you from my vengeance. It is 
 my wish that mademoiselle be treated with the 
 greatest respect and as a woman who belongs 
 to me. We are connected with the Verneuils, I be- 
 lieve." 
 
 The opposition encountered by the marquis pro- 
 duced the effect that such obstacles ordinarily pro- 
 duce upon young men. Although he had, to all ap- 
 pearance, treated Mademoiselle de Verneuil very 
 slightingly and given his friend to understand that 
 his passion for her was a caprice, he had neverthe- 
 less, impelled by a sense of pride, taken a long step 
 forward. Having admitted his interest in the woman, 
 he felt that his honor was concerned in enforcing due 
 respect for her ; he went therefore from group to 
 group, declaring, with the air of a man whom it 
 would have been dangerous to cross, that the 
 stranger was really Mademoiselle de Verneuil. All 
 the muttering ceased at once. 
 
 When Montauran had established a sort of har- 
 mony in the salon and satisfied everybody's demands, 
 he eagerly approached his mistress, and said to her 
 in an undertone : 
 
 " Those people have robbed me of a moment's 
 happiness." 
 
 " I am very glad to have you with me," she re- 
 plied with a smile. " I warn you that I am curious ; 
 so don't tire of my questions too soon. Tell me, in
 
 212 THE CHOUANS 
 
 the first place, who that man is who wears a green 
 cloth jacket ? " 
 
 " That is the famous Major Brigaut, from the 
 Marais, a companion of the late Mercier, called La 
 Vendee." 
 
 " And who is the stout clergyman with the rubi- 
 cund face, with whom he is talking about me now ? " 
 queried Mademoiselle de Verneuil. 
 
 " Do you want to know what they are say- 
 ing ? " 
 
 " Do I want to know ? — is that a question ? " 
 
 " But 1 couldn't tell you without wounding you." 
 
 "When you allow me to be insulted without 
 taking vengeance for the insults I receive under your 
 roof, adieu, marquis ! 1 prefer not to remain here a 
 moment. I am already remorseful for having 
 deceived those poor Republicans, the loyal, trustful 
 fellows." 
 
 She took a few steps toward the door and the 
 marquis followed her. 
 
 " My dear Marie, listen to me. On my honor, I 
 imposed silence on their unkind remarks before I 
 knew whether they were true or false. Neverthe- 
 less, in my position, when our friends in the depart- 
 ment at Paris have warned me to distrust every 
 woman of any sort whom I might fall in with, 
 informing me that Fouche has undertaken to employ 
 a Judith from the streets against me, my best friends 
 may well think that you are too beautiful to be a 
 virtuous woman." 
 
 As he spoke the marquis fixed his eyes upon
 
 THE CHOUANS 21 3 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil's, who blushed and could 
 not restrain a few tears. 
 
 " I have deserved these insults," she said. " I 
 would like to see you thoroughly convinced that I 
 am a despicable creature, and know at the same 
 time that you love me — then, 1 should no longer 
 doubt you. I believed you when you deceived me, 
 and you do not believe me when I speak the truth ! 
 Let us have done with it, monsieur," she said, 
 frowning and turning as pale as death, "Adieu." 
 
 She rush'ed desperately from the dining-room. 
 
 " Marie, my life is yours ! " said the young mar- 
 quis in her ear. 
 
 She stopped and looked at him. 
 
 " No, no," she said, " I will be generous. Adieu. 
 I did not think, when I accompanied you, of my 
 own past or your future ; I was mad." 
 
 " What ! you leave me at the moment I offer you 
 my life ? " 
 
 " You offer it in a moment of passion, of desire — " 
 
 " Without regret, and forever," he said. 
 
 She returned to the room. To conceal his emotion, 
 the marquis continued the conversation. 
 
 " The stout man whose name you asked me is a 
 redoubtable fellow. Abbe Gudin, one of those Jesuits 
 who are obstinate enough, devoted enough perhaps, 
 to remain in France despite the edict of 1763, which 
 banished them. He is the firebrand of the war in 
 these regions and the propagator of the religious 
 association called the Sacred Heart. Accustomed to 
 use religion as an instrument, he persuades his
 
 214 THE CHOUANS 
 
 fellow-members that they will be resurrected, and 
 knows how to keep their fanaticism alive by adroit 
 sermonizing. You see how it is ; we must make 
 use of every man's private interests to attain a great 
 end. Therein lies the whole secret of politics." 
 
 " And that old man, still hale and strong, and 
 apparently all muscles, whose face is so repulsive ! 
 Look, there, the one dressed in the rags of an advo- 
 cate's gown." 
 
 " Advocate ! he claims the rank of field-marshal. 
 Have you never heard of Longuy ? " 
 
 " Can that be he ! " said Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 in dismay. " You make use of such men ! " 
 
 " Hush ! he may hear you. Do you see that 
 other man in criminal conversation with Madame du 
 Gua ? " 
 
 " The man in black who looks like a judge ? " 
 
 " That's one of our negotiators. La Billardiere, 
 son of a councillor in the parliament of Bretagne, 
 whose name is something like Flamet ; but he has 
 the confidence of the princes." 
 
 " And his neighbor, the one who is just putting 
 away his clay pipe, and who has all the fingers of 
 his right hand on the panel like a rustic ? " queried 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, laughing. 
 
 " Pardieu ! you have guessed right ; he was once 
 head keeper for that lady's deceased husband. He 
 commands one of the companies with which 1 oppose 
 the flying squadrons. He and Marche-a-Terre are 
 perhaps the most conscientious servants the king 
 has here."
 
 THE CHOUANS 21 5 
 
 "But who is she ?" 
 
 "She," replied the marquis, "was Charette's 
 last mistress. She has great influence over all these 
 people." 
 
 " Has she remained faithful to him ? " 
 
 The marquis's only reply was a little incredulous 
 grimace. 
 
 " And do you think highly of her ? " 
 
 " You are in truth very curious." 
 
 "She is my enemy, because she can no longer be 
 my rival," laughed Mademoiselle de Verneuil ; " I 
 forgive her her past errors, may she forgive mine ! — 
 And that officer with the moustaches ? " 
 
 " Forgive me if I do not name him. He intends 
 to get rid of the First Consul by attacking him with 
 armed hand. Whether he succeeds or not, you will 
 hear of him, he will become famous." 
 
 " And you came here to take command of such 
 people ? " she exclaimed in horror. " These are the 
 king's defenders ! Where, then, are the gentlemen 
 and nobles ? " 
 
 " Why, they are scattered through all the courts of 
 Europe," said the marquis insolently. " Who, then, 
 enlists kings, cabinets and armies in the service of the 
 house of Bourbon and hurls them at this Republic, 
 which threatens all monarchies with death, and social 
 order with complete destruction ? " 
 
 "Ah!" she said with generous emotion, " be 
 henceforth the pure spring from which I shall draw 
 all the ideas I have still to acquire — I consent to that. 
 But let me think that you are the only nobleman
 
 2l6 THE CHOUANS 
 
 who does his duty in attactcing France with French- 
 men and not with the aid of foreigners. I am a 
 woman, and I feel that if my child should strike me 
 in anger, I could forgive him ; but if he looked on in 
 cold blood while I was torn to pieces by a stranger, 
 I should consider him a monster." 
 
 " You will always be a Republican," said the 
 marquis, yielding to the blissful emotion excited by 
 the generous accents that confirmed him in his pre- 
 sumptions. 
 
 " Republican ? No, I am one no longer. 1 should 
 not esteem youif you submitted to the First Consul," 
 she replied ; " but neither should I like to see you at 
 the head of people who lay waste one corner of 
 France instead of attacking the whole Republic. For 
 whom are you fighting ? What do you expect of a 
 king restored to the throne by your hands ? One 
 woman has already undertaken that noble work, and 
 the king she set free allowed her to be burned alive. 
 Those men are the anointed of the Lord and it is 
 dangerous to touch sacred things. Let God alone 
 place them, displace them and replace them on their 
 purple stools. If you have weighed the reward you 
 will receive, you are, in my eyes, ten times greater 
 than I thought ; so trample me under your feet if you 
 choose, I shall be happy." 
 
 " You are entrancing ! Don't try to convert these 
 gentry or I should be left without soldiers." 
 
 " Ah ! if you would let me convert you, we would 
 go a thousand leagues from here." 
 
 " These men whom you seem to despise will not
 
 THE CHOUANS 217 
 
 fear to lay down their lives in the struggle," re- 
 joined the marquis in a more serious tone, " and 
 their offences will be forgotten. Moreover, if my 
 efforts are crowned with some little success, will not 
 the laurels of triumph cover everything ? " 
 
 " You are the only one here who risks anything 
 so far as I can see." 
 
 " I am not the only one," he replied with true 
 modesty. " Yonder are the two new leaders of La 
 Vendee. The first, whom you have heard called 
 Grand- Jacques, is the Comte de Fontaine ; the other 
 is La Billardi^re, whom I have already pointed out to 
 you." 
 
 " But do you forget Quiberon, where La Billar- 
 diere played a most singular part .-' " she rejoined, 
 as if she had suddenly remembered something. 
 
 " La Billardiere has taken much upon himself, 
 believe me. The service of princes is not a bed of 
 roses." 
 
 "Oh! you make me shudder!" cried Marie. 
 "Marquis," she continued in a tone that seemed to 
 denote reticence upon some personal matter, " an 
 instant is sufficient to destroy an illusion and tear 
 the veil from secrets on which the life and happiness 
 of many people depend — " 
 
 She checked herself as if she were afraid of say- 
 ing too much, and added : 
 
 " I should be glad to know that the soldiers of the 
 Republic are in safety." 
 
 "I will be prudent," he said, smiling to disguise 
 his emotion ; " but say no more about your soldiers,
 
 2l8 THE CHOUANS 
 
 1 answered for their welfare on my word as a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " And, after all, by what right should 1 seek to 
 direct you?" she replied. "Between ourselves, 
 be master always. Did I not tell you that it would 
 drive me wild to reign over a slave ? " 
 
 "Monsieur le marquis," said Major Brigaut re- 
 spectfully, interrupting the conversation, " are the 
 Blues to remain here long .-* " 
 
 " They will go on as soon as they have rested," 
 cried Marie. 
 
 The marquis cast a keen glance over the as- 
 semblage, noticed signs of excitement, left Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil, and allowed Madame du Gua 
 to take his place beside her. That woman wore a 
 laughing, treacherous mask which the young chief's 
 bitter smile did not disturb. At that moment Fran- 
 cine uttered a cry which she promptly stifled. Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil, amazed to see her faithful 
 peasant rushing toward the dining-room, looked at 
 Madame du Gua, and her surprise was heightened 
 at sight of the pallor that overspread her enemy's 
 face. Curious to discover the secret of her maid's 
 abrupt departure, she walked to the window recess, 
 whither her rival followed her in order to banish the 
 suspicions any imprudent act might have aroused, 
 and smiled at her with indescribable malevolence, 
 when, after they had both cast a glance at the lake, 
 they returned together to the hearth, Marie having 
 seen nothing to account for Francine's flight, and 
 Madame du Gua content to find her orders obeyed.
 
 THE CHOUANS 219 
 
 The lake on whose bank Marche-a-Terre had ap- 
 peared at Madame du Gua's summons, was connected 
 with the ditch that protected the gardens, describing 
 an irregular, winding course, in some places broad 
 as a pond, in others as narrowly confined as artifi- 
 cial streams in a park. The steep bank bathed by 
 its clear waters was within a few yards of the 
 window. As she gazed at the black shadows cast 
 on the surface of the water by the top of some old 
 willows, Francine noticed heedlessly the uniform 
 curves described by their branches in the light 
 breeze. Suddenly it seemed to her that one of their 
 forms was moving over the mirror-like surface with 
 the irregular, spontaneous movements that denote 
 life. That figure, vaguely defined as it was, looked 
 like a man. At first Francine attributed the vision 
 to the imperfect outlines produced by the moon 
 shining through the foliage ; but soon a second 
 head made its appearance and then others, still at 
 some distance. The small bushes on the bank bent 
 over and flew violently back. Francine then saw 
 the long line of bushes moving this way and that, 
 like one of the great Indian serpents of fabulous 
 proportions. Soon several luminous points shone 
 out and flitted about among the clumps of broom 
 and the tall briars. 
 
 Watching with redoubled attention, Marche-a- 
 Terre's sweetheart thought she could recognize the 
 first of the black figures in the centre of the moving 
 bank. Indistinct as the outlines of the figure were, 
 the beating of her heart convinced her that it was
 
 220 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Marche-a-Terre. Enlightened by a gesture and im- 
 patient to know if that mysterious proceeding did 
 not conceal some treachery, she darted into the 
 courtyard. When she reached the centre of that 
 expanse of verdure, she looked alternately at the 
 two wings of the building and at the two banks, but 
 failed to discover any trace of that silent commotion 
 on the bank opposite the inhabited wing. She lis- 
 tened attentively and could make out a slight rustling 
 like that made by the footsteps of a wild beast in 
 the silence of the forest. She started but did not 
 tremble. Although still young and innocent, her 
 eager curiosity naturally suggested a stratagem. 
 Her eyes fell upon the mail-coach, she jumped into 
 it, out of sight, and raised her head as cautiously as 
 the hare in whose ears rings the sound of the distant 
 hunt. She saw Pille-Miche come out of the stable. 
 The Chouan was accompanied by two peasants, and 
 all three carried bundles of straw ; they strewed the 
 straw on the ground in such a way as to form a long 
 bed in front of the inhabited wing, parallel to the 
 bank lined with stunted trees, and the Chouans 
 walked upon it in silence that was ominous of some 
 ghastly ruse in preparation. 
 
 " You give them straw as if they were really 
 going to sleep there — Enough, Pille-Miche ! enough ! " 
 said a hoarse, low voice that Francine recognized. 
 
 " Won't they sleep there.? " rejoined Pille-Miche, 
 with a coarse, stupid laugh. — " But ain't you afraid 
 the Gars will be angry.? " he added, in so low a 
 tone that Francine did not hear.
 
 THE CHOUANS 221 
 
 ** Very well, let him be angry," replied Marche-a- 
 Terre under his breath ; " but we shall have killed 
 the Blues all the same. — There's a carriage we 
 must put out of the way," he added. 
 
 Pille-Miche pulled the carriage by the pole and 
 Marche-a-Terre pushed it by one of the wheels so 
 swiftly that Francine found herself in the barn and 
 just about to be locked in there before she had had 
 time to reflect on her situation. Pille-Miche went 
 away to help to roll out the cask of cider that the 
 marquis had ordered to be distributed to the soldiers 
 of the escort. Marche-a-Terre was walking by the 
 vehicle, intending to leave the barn and secure the 
 door, when he found his progress arrested by a 
 hand that grasped the long hairs of his goatskin. 
 He recognized a pair of eyes whose softness exerted 
 a magnetic power over him, and he stood for a mo- 
 ment as if under a spell. Francine hastily leaped 
 out of the coach and said to him in the aggressive 
 voice that is wonderfully attractive in an irritated 
 woman : 
 
 " Pierre, what news did you bring that woman 
 and her son on the road? What are they doing 
 here? Why do you hide? 1 want to know every- 
 thing." 
 
 These words brought to the Chouan's face an ex- 
 pression Francine did not know. He led his inno- 
 cent mistress to the door ; there, he turned her 
 face so that the pale light of the moon fell upon it, 
 and answered, gazing at her with a terrible gleam in 
 his eye :
 
 222 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Yes, at the risk of my soul ! Francine, I will 
 tell you, but not till you have sworn on this 
 rosary — " 
 
 And he drew an old rosary from under his goat- 
 skin. 
 
 " On this rosary, which you know," he con- 
 tinued, "to answer the truth to a single question." 
 
 Francine blushed as she looked at the rosary, 
 which was doubtless a pledge of their love. 
 
 " That is what you once sv/ore on — " continued 
 the Chouan, deeply moved. 
 
 He did not finish. The peasant girl placed her 
 hand over her uncouth lover's lips to impose silence 
 on him. 
 
 " Do I need to swear ? " she asked. 
 
 He gently took his mistress's hand, looked at her 
 for an instant, and went on : 
 
 " Is the young lady you serve really named Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil ? " 
 
 Francine stood with her arms hanging at her sides, 
 downcast eyes, head bent forward, and pale and 
 speechless. 
 
 " She's a jade ! " exclaimed Marche-a-Terre in a 
 terrible voice. 
 
 When he uttered the word, the pretty hand was 
 placed once more upon his lips, but as he spoke he 
 recoiled fiercely. The little Breton girl no longer 
 saw a lover but a wild beast in all his natural 
 ferocity. The Chouan's eyebrows were violently 
 drawn together, his lips contracted and he showed 
 his teeth like a dog defending his master.
 
 THE CHOUANS 223 
 
 " I left you a flower and I find you a dung-heap. 
 Ah ! why did 1 leave you ? — You have come to be- 
 tray us, to denounce the Gars ! " 
 
 These phrases were rather roars than speech. 
 Although Francine was frightened, at the last re- 
 proach she ventured to look up at that savage face, 
 raised her angelic eyes to his, and replied calmly : 
 
 " I will pledge my salvation that that is false. 
 That is your lady's idea — " 
 
 It was his turn to hang his head ; thereupon she 
 took his hand, turned to him with a pretty gesture 
 and said : 
 
 " Pierre, why are we in all this trouble ? Look 
 you, you may understand something about it, I don't 
 know how, but 1 can't make head or tail of it ! 
 But remember that that noble and lovely young 
 lady is my benefactress ; she is yours too and we 
 live almost like two sisters. No harm must ever 
 happen to her anywhere, where we are with her, 
 while we are alive, at all events. Give me your 
 oath on that ! I have no confidence in anybody here 
 but you." 
 
 " I don't command here," replied the Chouan in 
 a surly tone. 
 
 Her face darkened. She took his great hanging 
 ears and pinched them gently as if she were caress- 
 ing a cat. 
 
 " Very well," she said, seeing that his severity 
 had somewhat abated, " promise me that you will use 
 all the power you have to protect our benefactress." 
 
 He shook his head as if he were doubtful of sue-
 
 224 THE CHOUANS 
 
 cess, and the gesture made the girl shudder. At 
 that critical moment, the escort reached the cause- 
 way. The measured tread of the soldiers and the 
 clashing of their weapons echoed through the court- 
 yard and seemed to put an end to Marche-a-Terre's 
 indecision. 
 
 " I can save her perhaps," he said to his mistress, 
 " if you will make her stay at the house. — And," he 
 added, " whatever happens, stay with her and keep 
 absolutely silent ; if you don't do that, don't expect 
 anything ! " 
 
 " 1 promise," she replied in her terror. 
 
 " All right, go back to the house. Go back at 
 once and hide your fear from everybody, even from 
 your mistress." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She pressed the Chouan's hand, and he looked 
 after her with a paternal air as she ran as lightly as 
 a bird toward the steps ; then he glided into the 
 hedge like an actor escaping to the wings just as the 
 curtain rises on the tragedy. 
 
 " Do you know. Merle, this place seems to me 
 like a regular rat-trap," said Gerard when they 
 reached the chateau. 
 
 "1 believe you," replied the captain thought- 
 fully. 
 
 The two officers lost no time in stationing sentinels 
 to make sure of the causeway and the gate, then 
 they glanced suspiciously at the banks of the pond 
 and the surrounding country. 
 
 " Bah ! " said Merle, " we must either accept the
 
 THE CHOUANS 22$ 
 
 hospitality of these barracks in all confidence or not 
 go in at all." 
 
 " Let us go in," said Gerard. 
 
 The soldiers, relieved from duty by a word from 
 their officer, hastened to place their guns in conical 
 stacks and formed a line around the bed of straw, 
 in the centre of which was the cask of cider. They 
 separated in groups and two peasants began to dis- 
 tribute rye-bread and butter. The marquis came out 
 to greet the officers and escorted them to the salon. 
 When Gerard had mounted the steps and glanced at 
 the two wings over which the aged larches waved 
 their black branches, he called Beau-Pied and Clef- 
 des-C(Eurs. 
 
 " Go, you two, and reconnoitre the gardens and 
 search the hedges, do you understand ? Then you 
 will station a sentinel in front of your line." 
 
 " May we light our fire before beginning our 
 hunt, commandant ? " said Clef-des-Coeurs. 
 
 Gerard bowed. 
 
 " Look you, Clef-des-Coeurs," said Beau-Pied, 
 " the adjutant does wrong to investigate this wasp's 
 nest. If Hulot was in command, he'd never have 
 come here ; we might as well be in a kettle with 
 the lid on." 
 
 " What an idiot you are ! " retorted Clef-des- 
 Coeurs ; "to think that you, the king of mischief- 
 makers, don't understand that this sentry-box is the 
 chateau of the amiable lady whom our light-hearted 
 Merle, the most polished of captains, is whistling 
 after, and he'll marry her too, that's as clear as a 
 15
 
 226 THE CHOUANS 
 
 well furbished bayonet. She'll do honor to the 
 demi-brigade, will a woman like that." 
 
 "True," replied Beau-Pied. "You might add 
 that this is very good cider, but 1 take no pleasure 
 in drinking it with those beastly hedges staring me 
 in the face. I keep thinking 1 see Larose and Vieux- 
 Chapeau rolling down into the ditch on La Pelerine. 
 I shall remember poor Larose's cue all my life, it 
 went up and down like a door-knocker." 
 
 " Beau-Pied, my friend, you have too much 
 imagination for a soldier ; you ought to write ballads 
 at the National Institute." 
 
 " I may have too much imagination," retorted 
 Beau-Pied, " but you haven't any at all, and it will 
 be a long while before you'll be a consul." 
 
 The laughter of the troop put an end to the dis- 
 cussion, for Clef-des-Coeurs found nothing in his 
 cartridge-case with which to answer his comrade. 
 
 " Are you coming to make the round ? " asked 
 Beau-Pied. " I'll take the right." 
 
 " Then I'll take the left," said the other. " But 
 wait a minute ! I want to drink a glass of cider, 
 my wind-pipe's stuck together like the gummed silk 
 round Hulot's best hat." 
 
 The left side of the gardens, which Clef-des- 
 Coeurs neglected to explore immediately, was un- 
 fortunately the dangerous bank where Francine had 
 noticed the movement of men. In war, everything 
 depends on chance. As he entered the salon and 
 saluted the assembled company, Gerard cast a pene- 
 trating glance upon the men who composed it. His
 
 THE CHOUANS 22/ 
 
 suspicions returned witii renewed force, he suddenly- 
 walked up to Mademoiselle de Verneuil and said in 
 a low tone : 
 
 " I think that we should withdraw at once, we are 
 not safe here." 
 
 ** Do you fear anything in my house ? " she 
 laughingly replied. **You are safer here than you 
 would be in Mayenne." 
 
 A woman always answers confidently for her 
 lover. The two officers were less disturbed in 
 mind. At that moment the party adjourned to the 
 dining-room, notwithstanding some vague references 
 to an important guest who had not arrived. Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil, by favor of the silence that 
 always prevails at the beginning of dinner, was able 
 to bestow some attention on the assemblage, — a 
 most interesting one under such circumstances, and 
 of which she was in a certain sense the cause, — as 
 a result of the ignorance with which women accus- 
 tomed to make sport of everything, approach the 
 most critical periods of life. She suddenly noticed 
 one fact that surprised her. The two Republican 
 officers dominated the whole assemblage by the im- 
 posing character of their features. Their long hair, 
 drawn back from the temples and collected in an 
 enormous cue behind the neck, gave additional 
 prominence to those lines on their foreheads that 
 impart such candor and nobility to young faces. 
 Their threadbare blue uniforms with worn red 
 facings — everything, even to the epaulets that had 
 fallen out of place on the march and that betrayed
 
 228 THE CHOUANS 
 
 the lack of cloaks throughout the army, even among 
 the officers, caused the two soldiers to stand out 
 in bold relief from the men among whom they 
 were. 
 
 " Ah ! there is the nation, liberty ! " she said to 
 herself. 
 
 And then, glancing at the Royalists : 
 " And there a man, a king, a privileged class ! " 
 She could not refrain from admiring Merle's face, 
 that light-hearted soldier answered so fully one's 
 ideas of the Frenchmen who could whistle a tune 
 amid the storm of bullets and not forget to make a 
 joke on the comrade who falls beside them. Gerard 
 was imposing. Serious and self-possessed, he 
 seemed to have one of those truly Republican souls 
 which, in those days, were found in great numbers 
 in the French armies, which innumerable instances 
 of devotion, noble but obscure, endowed with an 
 energy hitherto unknown. 
 
 " There's one of my men with grand views," 
 said Mademoiselle de Verneuil to herself. "Sup- 
 ported by the present, which they dominate, they 
 destroy the past, but they do it for the benefit of 
 the future." 
 
 The thought saddened her because it did not relate 
 to her lover, toward whom she turned to take her 
 revenge, in admiration of him, upon the Republic, 
 which she hated already. When she saw the mar- 
 quis surrounded by men who were bold, fanatical, 
 far-sighted enough to attack a victorious republic in 
 the hope of restoring a dead monarchy, an outlawed
 
 THE CHOUANS 229 
 
 religion, wandering princes and expired privileges, 
 she said to herself : 
 
 " His views are no less grand than the other's ; 
 for, clinging fast to a mass of ruins, he seeks to con- 
 struct the future from the past." 
 
 Her mind fed upon images, wavered between the 
 young and the old ruins. Her conscience cried out 
 to her that one was fighting for a man, the other for 
 his country ; but she had reached by way of senti- 
 ment the point that others reach by reasoning — that 
 the king is the country. 
 
 Hearing a man's step in the salon, the marquis 
 rose to go and meet him. He recognized the tardy 
 guest, who, astonished at the sight of the company, 
 would have spoken ; but the Gars, unseen by the 
 Republicans, motioned to him to say nothing and 
 take his place at the table. As the two Republican 
 officers scrutinized the faces of their hosts, the sus- 
 picions they had at first conceived revived. The 
 ecclesiastical garb of Abbe Gudin and the peculiarity 
 of the Chouan costumes awoke their prudence ; 
 they redoubled their attention therefore and detected 
 a remarkable contrast between the manners of the 
 guests and their speech. The airs assumed by some 
 of them were as aristocratic as the Republicanism 
 manifested by others was exaggerated. Certain 
 glances that they intercepted between the marquis 
 and his guests, certain equivocal remarks impru- 
 dently uttered, but above all, the fringe of beard 
 which adorned the necks of some, and was only par- 
 tially concealed by their cravats, at last convinced
 
 230 THE CHOUANS 
 
 the officers of a truth that struck them both at the 
 same moment. They disclosed their common 
 thoughts to each other by a glance, for Madame du 
 Gua had skilfully separated them and they were re- 
 duced to the language of the eyes. Their position 
 required them to act with address : they did not 
 know whether they were masters of the chateau or 
 had been decoyed into an ambush ; whether Ma- 
 demoiselle de Verneuil's part in this inexplicable ad- 
 venture was that of a dupe or an accomplice ; but an 
 unforeseen event precipitated the crisis before they 
 could realize all its gravity. 
 
 The new arrival was a man almost as broad as he 
 was long, with florid complexion, one of the men 
 who lean back when they walk, who seem to dis- 
 place a great quantity of air, and who believe that 
 everybody must needs look more than once to see 
 them. Despite his noble birth, he had taken life as 
 a jest from which one should obtain all that he pos- 
 sibly could ; but, even while kneeling to himself, he 
 was kind, polished and witty after the manner of 
 those gentlemen who, after finishing their education 
 at court, return to their estates and refuse to believe 
 that after twenty years they may have become a 
 little rusty. That sort of man combines with imper- 
 turbable self-possession an absolute lack of tact, he 
 says foolish things in a clever way, distrusts what is 
 good with much adroitness, and takes incredible pains 
 to fall into a trap. When, by handling his fork in a 
 way that denoted a great eater, he had made up 
 what time he had lost, he cast his eyes over the as-
 
 THE CHOUANS 231 
 
 sembled company. His astonishment redoubled 
 when he saw the two officers, and he questioned 
 Madame du Gua with a glance ; her only reply was 
 to point to Mademoiselle de Verneuil. On perceiv- 
 ing the siren, whose beauty was beginning to im- 
 pose silence on the feelings at first aroused by Ma- 
 dame du Gua in the minds of the guests, the stout 
 stranger indulged in one of those insolent, mocking 
 smiles which seem to contain an entire salacious his- 
 tory. He placed his lips to his neighbor's ear and 
 whispered two or three words, and those words, 
 which remained a secret to Marie and the two officers, 
 travelled from ear to ear, from mouth to mouth, even 
 to the heart of him whom they were calculated to 
 wound to the death. The leaders of the Vendeans 
 and Chouans turned their eyes upon the Marquis de 
 Montauran with cruel curiosity. Madame du Gua's 
 eyes wandered from the marquis to the astonished 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, emitting flashes of joy. 
 The officers anxiously exchanged glances, awaiting the 
 result of the strange scene. In an instant the forks 
 remained inactive in every hand, silence reigned in 
 the room, and all eyes were fixed on the Gars. A 
 cloud of rage swept over that flushed, indignant face, 
 which became like wax. The young chieftain 
 turned to the guest from whom the blast had come, 
 and said, in a voice that seemed shrouded in crepe : 
 " Death of my soul ! is that true, count ? " 
 " Upon my honor," replied the count, bowing 
 gravely. 
 
 The marquis lowered his eyes a moment, but soon
 
 232 THE CHOUANS 
 
 raised them to look at Marie, who, following the 
 discussion attentively, received that death-laden 
 glance. 
 
 " I would give my life," he muttered, "to take 
 my revenge instantly." 
 
 Madame du Gua understood his words simply 
 from the movement of his lips, and smiled at the 
 young man as one smiles at a friend whose despair 
 will soon be at an end. The general contempt for 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, depicted on every face, 
 aroused the indignation of the two Republicans to 
 the highest pitch, and they rose abruptly from their 
 seats. 
 
 " What do you wish, citizens ? " inquired Madame 
 du Gua. 
 
 " Our swords, citi:{eness," replied Gerard ironi- 
 cally. 
 
 "You don't need them at table," said the mar- 
 quis coldly. 
 
 " No ; but we are going to play a game that you 
 are familiar with," said Gerard, returning. "We 
 shall be at somewhat closer quarters here than at 
 La Pelerine." 
 
 The whole company seemed stupefied with amaze- 
 ment. At that moment, a discharge that sounded 
 ominously in the ears of the two officers, rang out 
 in the courtyard. They rushed out upon the stoop ; 
 there they saw about a hundred Chouans taking aim 
 at the few soldiers who had survived their first dis- 
 charge, and firing on them like hares. The Bretons 
 came from the bank where Marche-a-Terre had.
 
 THE CHOUANS 233 
 
 stationed them at the risk of their lives ; for, after 
 the last reports, they heard, amid the shrieks of the 
 dying, some of the Chouans falling into the water 
 like stones into a chasm. Pille-Miche covered 
 Gerard, Marche-a-Terre did the like for Merle. 
 
 "Captain," said the marquis coldly to Merle, 
 repeating the words the Republican had spoken of 
 him, "men, you see, are like medlars, they ripen on the 
 straw." 
 
 And he waved his hand to where the entire escort 
 of Blues lay on the blood-drenched straw, where the 
 Chouans were despatching the living and rifling the 
 dead with incredible rapidity. 
 
 " I was quite right when I said that your men 
 would not go as far as La Pelerine," added the mar- 
 quis. " I fancy too that your head will be filled 
 with lead before mine, what do you think ? " 
 
 Montauran felt a horrible craving to satisfy his 
 rage. His irony to the vanquished, the ferocity, 
 the perfidy of that military execution, performed 
 without orders, but which he then avowed, met the 
 secret wishes of his heart. In his frenzy, he would 
 have liked to annihilate France. The murdered 
 Blues, the two living officers, one and all innocent of 
 the crime for which he was seeking vengeance, were 
 in his hands like the cards a gambler destroys in his 
 desperation. 
 
 " I would rather die thus than enjoy such a 
 triumph as yours," said Gerard. 
 
 As his eyes fell upon his naked, bleeding soldiers, 
 he cried :
 
 234 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Murdered by cowards in cold blood ! " 
 
 "As Louis XVI. was, monsieur," retorted the 
 marquis, warmly. 
 
 "Monsieur," rejoined Gerard haughtily, "there 
 are mysteries which you will never understand in 
 proceedings against a king." 
 
 "Accuse the king!" cried the marquis in a 
 frenzy. 
 
 " Fight against France ! " retorted Gerard in a 
 contemptuous tone. 
 
 " Idiocy ! " said the marquis. 
 
 " Parricide ! " said the Republican. 
 
 " Regicide! " 
 
 " Well, well, do you propose to take the moment 
 of your death to quarrel ? " cried Merle gayly. 
 
 " True," said Gerard coolly, turning to the mar- 
 quis. " Monsieur, if it is your intention to put us 
 to death," he added, "at least do us the favor to 
 shoot us on the spot." 
 
 " That's like you ! " said the captain ; " always 
 in a hurry to have done. But, my friend, when one 
 is going a long distance and may have no breakfast 
 the next day, it is customary to eat a hearty sup- 
 per." 
 
 Gerard, without a word, walked proudly to the 
 wall ; Pille-Miche took aim at him, then, glancing at 
 the motionless marquis, took his leader's silence for 
 a command, and the adjutant-major fell like a log. 
 Marche-a-Terre ran up to divide this fresh booty 
 with Pille-Miche. Like two half-starved crows, they 
 disputed and grumbled over the still warm body.
 
 THE CHOUANS 235 
 
 " If you care to finish your supper, captain, you 
 are at liberty to come with me," said the marquis to 
 Merle, whom he wished to keep with a view to pos- 
 sible exchanges. 
 
 The captain mechanically returned with his host, 
 saying in an undertone as if reproaching himself : 
 
 " It's that devilish hussy who's at the bottom of 
 this. What will Hulot say ? " 
 
 " That hussy ! " exclaimed the marquis in a hol- 
 low voice. " But is she really a hussy ? " 
 
 The captain seemed to have dealt Montauran a 
 death-blow, for he followed him, staggering as he 
 walked, pale, downcast and gloomy. Meanwhile 
 in the dining-room another scene had been enacted, 
 which took on so ominous an aspect on account of 
 the marquis's absence, that Marie, finding herself 
 without her protector, was justified in fearing the 
 execution of the death sentence written in her rival's 
 eyes. At the time of the discharge of musketry, all 
 the guests had risen except Madame du Gua. 
 
 " Sit down," she said, " it's nothing, only our 
 people shooting the Blues." 
 
 When she saw that the marquis had left the 
 room, she rose. 
 
 "Mademoiselle here," she cried with the calm- 
 ness of smothered fury, "has come to take away 
 the Gars ! She has come to try to betray him to 
 the Republic." 
 
 " Since this morning I might have denounced him 
 twenty times, and 1 saved his life," replied Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil.
 
 236 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Madame du Gua rushed upon her rival with the 
 rapidity of lightning ; in her blind frenzy she tore 
 away the slender frogs of the girl's spencer, — she 
 was taken by surprise by the sudden attack — vio- 
 lated with rude hands the sanctuary where the letter 
 was concealed, tore her way through dress, em- 
 broidery, corset, chemise ; then she took advantage 
 of the opportunity to glut her jealousy, and attacked 
 her rival's heaving bosom with such address and 
 ferocity that she left the bleeding marks of her nails 
 upon it, experiencing a sombre joy in forcing her to 
 undergo the hateful humiliation. In the feeble 
 struggle that Marie made against the furious crea- 
 ture, her cloak fell off, her hair broke its bonds and 
 fell in waving locks ; her face glowed with shame 
 and two tears made a moist, burning line down her 
 cheeks and made the fire in her eyes burn brighter ; 
 the agitation of shame exposed her shuddering form 
 to the gaze of the guests. Even the most hardened 
 judges would have believed in her innocence when 
 they witnessed her grief. 
 
 Hatred errs so in its calculations, that Madame du 
 Gua did not notice that nobody listened to her when 
 she cried in triumph : 
 
 "Look, messieurs, and see if I have slandered 
 this horrible creature ! " 
 
 " Not so horrible," muttered the stout guest who 
 had caused the catastrophe. "For my own part, I 
 am prodigiously fond of such horrors ! " 
 
 " Here," continued the pitiless Vendean, " is an 
 order signed Laplace and countersigned Dubois."
 
 THE CHOUANS 237 
 
 At those names, some of the guests raised their 
 heads. 
 
 "And this is its tenor," continued Madame du 
 Gua : 
 
 " Citizen commanders of all ranks, administrators of 
 districts, procureurs-syndics, etc., in the revolted depart- 
 ments, and particularly in those localities where the ci-devant 
 Marquis de Montauran, leader of brigands and known by the 
 name of the Gars, may be found, will give support and 
 assistance to Citizeness Marie Verneuil and conform to 
 such orders as she may give them, each citizen within the 
 line of his duty, etc." 
 
 " A girl from the Opera to take an illustrious 
 name to stain it with such infamy ! " she added. 
 
 A movement of surprise was visible throughout 
 the assemblage. 
 
 " The game is not even, if the Republic employs 
 such pretty women against us ! " said the Baron 
 du Guenic jocosely. 
 
 " Especially girls who have nothing at stake," 
 added Madame du Gua. 
 
 " Nothing ? " said the Chevalier du Vissard ; 
 "why, mademoiselle has an estate which must 
 bring her in a very large income ! " 
 
 " The Republic must be fond of a joke, to send us 
 prostitutes as ambassadors, eh .'' " cried Abbe Gudin. 
 
 " But mademoiselle unfortunately seeks pleasures 
 that kill," said Madame du Gua, with a fiendish 
 expression of joy which indicated that the jesting 
 was drawing near its end.
 
 238 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " How is it then that you are still alive, madame? " 
 said Marie, rising after she had repaired the disorder 
 of her toilet. 
 
 That murderous epigram compelled something like 
 respect for so undaunted a victim, and imposed 
 silence on the company. Madame du Gua saw upon 
 the lips of the insurgent leaders an ironical smile 
 that drove her mad, and without noticing the arrival 
 of the marquis and the captain, she cried, pointing 
 to Mademoiselle de Verneuil : 
 
 " Pille-Miche, take her away; she is my part of 
 the plunder and I give her to you ; do whatever you 
 please with her." 
 
 As the words whatever voii please fell from her 
 lips, the v/hole assemblage shuddered, for the hide- 
 ous faces of Pille-Michc and Marche-a-Terre ap- 
 peared behind the marquis, and the punishment in 
 store for her was made manifest in all its horror.
 
 * 
 
 Francine stood, with clasped hands and eyes filled 
 with tears, as if struck by lightning. Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil, recovering all her presence of mind in 
 the face of danger, cast a scornful glance upon the 
 company, seized the letter which Madame du Gua 
 still held, raised her head, and with dry eyes flash- 
 ing fire, rushed toward the door, where Merle had 
 left his sword. There she met the marquis, cold 
 and immovable as a statue. Nothing pleaded in her 
 behalf on that face, whose every feature was stern 
 and unyielding. Wounded to the heart, life became 
 hateful to her. The man who had manifested so 
 deep an affection for her had heard the mocking jests 
 with which she had been assailed, and had been a 
 horror-stricken witness of the indignity she had been 
 forced to endure when the charms that a woman 
 reserves for the eyes of love were laid bare to the 
 gaze of all ! Perhaps she would have forgiven Mon- 
 tauran his feeling of contempt, but she was indignant 
 because he had seen her in an infamous situation ; 
 she gazed at him in a bewildered way, but with eyes 
 filled with hate, for she already felt a terrible crav- 
 ing for revenge springing up in her heart. Seeing 
 
 (239)
 
 240 THE CHOUANS 
 
 death behind her, her povverlessness choked her. 
 Her brain whirled as if she were going mad ; there- 
 upon, instead of killing herself, she seized the sword, 
 brandished it over the marquis's head and buried it 
 in his body up to the hilt ; but as the blade passed 
 between his arm and his side, the Gars caught Marie 
 by the wrist and dragged her from the room, assisted 
 by Pille-Miche, who threw himself on the wild 
 creature just as she tried to kill the marquis. At 
 that spectacle, Francine uttered a piercing shriek. 
 
 "Pierre! Pierre! Pierre !" she cried in piteous 
 tones. 
 
 And, still shrieking, she followed her mistress. 
 
 The marquis left the stupefied assemblage and 
 went out, closing the door of the dining-room. When 
 he came out upon the stoop, his hand still grasped 
 the young woman's wrist, pressing it convulsively, 
 while Pille-Miche's nervous fingers almost broke the 
 bones of her arm ; but she felt only the burning hand 
 of the young leader, at whom she gazed coldly. 
 
 " Monsieur, you hurt me ! " 
 
 The marquis made no reply except to look his 
 mistress in the face for a moment. 
 
 " Pray, have you some grievance for which you 
 intend to take a base revenge as that woman did ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 At that moment she caught sight of the dead bodies 
 lying on the straw, and cried with a shudder : 
 
 " The word of a gentleman ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
 After that ghastly laugh, she added : 
 
 "What a beautiful day!"
 
 THE CHOUANS 241 
 
 "Yes, beautiful," he repeated, " and without a 
 morrow." 
 
 He dropped her hand after one last, long glance at 
 the fascinating creature, whom it was almost im- 
 possible for him to renounce. Neither of those two 
 haughty spirits would bend. Perhaps the marquis 
 expected a tear ; but the girl's eyes remained dry 
 and proud. He turned hastily away, leaving to 
 Pille-Miche his victim. 
 
 " God will hear me, marquis ; I will pray to Him 
 that you may have a beautiful day without a mor- 
 row ! " 
 
 Pille-Miche, embarrassed by such magnificent 
 prey, led her away with gentleness, mingled with 
 ironical respect. 
 
 The marquis sighed, returned to the dining-room 
 and confronted his guests with a face like that of a 
 dead man whose eyes have not been closed. 
 
 Captain Merle's presence was inexplicable to the 
 actors in this tragedy, and they all gazed at him 
 in surprise, questioning one another with their 
 eyes. 
 
 Merle noticed the Chouans' amazement, and with- 
 out belying his nature, he said to them with a sad 
 smile : 
 
 " I cannot think, messieurs, that you would refuse 
 a glass of wine to a man who is on the last stage of 
 his journey." 
 
 It was just as these words, uttered with true 
 
 French recklessness well adapted to please the 
 
 Vendeans, had calmed the excitement of the guests, 
 16
 
 242 THE CHOUANS 
 
 that Montauran appeared, and his pale face, his 
 staring eyes froze the blood in their veins. 
 
 "You see," said the captain, "that death draws 
 the living in its train ! " 
 
 " Ah ! there you are, my dear council of war ! " 
 said the marquis, with the gesture of a man awak- 
 ing from sleep. 
 
 He held out a bottle of Yin de Grave to the cap- 
 tain, as if to fill his glass. 
 
 "Oh! thanks, citizen marquis, I might lose my 
 head, you see — " 
 
 At that sally, Madame du Gua said to the guests 
 with a smile : 
 
 " Come, let us spare him the dessert." 
 
 " You are very cruel in your vengeance, madame/' 
 rejoined the captain. " You forget my murdered 
 friend who is waiting for me, and I never fail to keep 
 my appointments." 
 
 " Captain," said the marquis, tossing him his 
 glove, " you are free ! See, here's your passport. 
 The King's Chasseurs are well aware that all the 
 game should not be killed." 
 
 " Life it is then ! " replied Merle ; " but you are 
 wrong ; I answer by playing a square game with 
 you, 1 will never give you quarter. You may be 
 very clever but you're not the equal of Gerard. 
 Although your head can never pay for his, I must 
 have it and I will have it." 
 
 " He was in a great hurry ! " retorted the mar- 
 quis. 
 
 " Adieu ! — I can drink with my executioners, but
 
 THE CHOUANS 243 
 
 I will not remain with my friend's murderers," said 
 the captain, and he disappeared, leaving the guests 
 profoundly astonished. 
 
 " Well, messieurs, what say you to the sheriffs, 
 doctors and lawyers who manage the Republic ? " 
 queried the Gars coldly, 
 
 " Par la mort-Dieu ! marquis," replied the Comte 
 de Bauvan, "they're very ill-bred at all events. 
 That fellow was decidedly impertinent to us, in my 
 opinion." 
 
 The captain had a secret motive in his abrupt de- 
 parture. The despised, humiliated creature, who 
 was perhaps yielding to her tormentors at that mo- 
 ment, had exhibited in the recent scene, charms so 
 difficult to forget that he said to himself as he was 
 leaving the house : 
 
 " If she's a strumpet, she's no ordinary strumpet, 
 and I would certainly marry her." 
 
 He was so confident of rescuing her from the hands 
 of the savages, that his first thought, when assured 
 of his own safety, was that he would take her under 
 his protection thenceforth. Unfortunately when he 
 reached the stoop, he found the courtyard deserted. 
 He looked all about, listened in the silence and heard 
 nothing but the noisy distant laughter of the Chouans, 
 who were drinking in the gardens and dividing their 
 booty. He ventured to skirt the fatal wing in front 
 of which his soldiers had been shot ; and from that 
 corner, by the faint light of a few candles, he dis- 
 tinguished the different groups formed by the King's 
 Chasseurs. Neither Pille-Miche, nor Marche-a-Terre,
 
 244 THE CHOUANS 
 
 nor the young woman was there ; but at that 
 moment he felt a gentle twitch at the skirt of his 
 coat, turned and saw Francine on her knees. 
 
 " Where is she ? " he asked. 
 
 "1 don't know — Pierre drove me back and 
 ordered me not to stir." 
 
 " Which way did they go ? " 
 
 " That way," she replied, pointing to the cause- 
 way. 
 
 They could see in that direction shadows cast by 
 the moon on the waters of the lake, and recognized 
 the outlines of a woman, outlines so graceful, al- 
 though indistinct, that they made their hearts beat. 
 " Oh ! there she is," said the peasant girl. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil seemed to be standing, 
 resigned to her fate, among several other figures 
 whose gestures indicated that a discussion was in 
 progress. 
 
 " There are several of them ! " cried the captain. 
 
 " Never mind, forward ! " 
 
 " You will be killed to no purpose," said Francine. 
 
 " I have died once to-day already," he replied 
 gayly. 
 
 They walked together toward the dark gateway 
 beyond which the scene was taking place. Half- 
 way to the gate Francine stopped. 
 
 " No," she said softly, " I won't go any farther. 
 Pierre told me not to meddle ; I know him and we 
 shall spoil everything. Do what you please. Mon- 
 sieur I'Officier, but move away from me. If Pierre 
 should see you with me, he'd kill you."
 
 THE CHOUANS 245 
 
 At that moment Pille-Miche appeared outside the 
 gate, called the postilion, who had remained in the 
 stable, spied the captain and covered him with his 
 musket, crying : 
 
 " Sainte Anne d'Auray ! the pri-est of Antrain was 
 right when he said that the Blues make compacts 
 with the devil. Wait, wait, I'm going to bring you 
 to life again ! " 
 
 "What! my life is spared," cried Merle, when 
 he saw that he was threatened. " Here's your 
 leader's glove." 
 
 " Yes, that's ghosts sure," retorted the Chouan. 
 ** I don't spare your life — A-ve Maria! " 
 
 He fired. The bullet entered the captain's head 
 and he fell. 
 
 When Francine approached him, she heard him 
 say indistinctly : 
 
 " I would much rather stay here with them than 
 return to the command without them." 
 
 The Chouan pounced upon the Blue to strip him, 
 saying : 
 
 " There's one good thing about such ghosts as 
 this, they come back with their clothes on." 
 
 When he found the Gars's glove in the hand of the 
 captain, who had attempted to show him that sacred 
 safeguard, he was thunderstruck. 
 
 ' ' I wouldn't like to be in my mother's son's skin ! " 
 he cried. 
 
 Then he disappeared as swiftly as a bird. 
 
 To understand this meeting that resulted so fatally 
 for the captain, it is necessary to follow Mademoi-
 
 246 THE CHOUANS 
 
 selle de Verneuil when the marquis, a prey to rage 
 and despair, turned his back upon her and abandoned 
 her to Pille-Miche. Francine thereupon seized 
 Marche-a-Terre's arm convulsively, and with tears 
 in her eyes demanded the fulfilment of the promise 
 he had given her. A few steps away, Pille-Miche 
 was dragging his victim along as if he had some 
 heavy burden in tow. Marie, with her hair flying 
 in the wind and her head thrown back, cast her eyes 
 toward the lake ; but, being held in a grasp of steel, 
 she was forced slowly to follow the Chouan, who 
 turned several times to look at her or to make her 
 walk faster, and each time a jovial thought brought 
 a frightful smile to his face. 
 
 " Ain't she godaine ! " he cried with coarse em- 
 phasis. 
 
 Hearing those words, Francine recovered the 
 power of speech. 
 
 " Pierre! " 
 
 "Well .?" 
 
 " Is he going to kill mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " Not right away," replied Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 " But she won't let him touch her, and if she dies, 
 I shall die ! " 
 
 " Ah, so ! you love her too much ; let her die ! " 
 said Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 " If we are rich and happy, we owe our happi- 
 ness to her ; but what of that, — didn't you promise 
 to save her from any harm ? " 
 
 " I'll go and try ; but stay here, don't stir." 
 
 Marche-a-Terre's arm was instantly released, and
 
 THE CHOUANS 247 
 
 Francine, a prey to the most horrible anxiety, waited 
 in the courtyard. Marche-a-Terre overtook his com- 
 rade just as the latter, after dragging his victim into 
 the barn, had forced her to enter the carriage. 
 Pille-Miche called upon his comrade to assist him in 
 drawing out the caleche. 
 
 "What are you going to do with all that?" 
 queried Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 "Ben! the grande garce gave me the woman and 
 what's hers is mine." 
 
 " All right for the coach, you can make a sou or 
 two on it ; but the woman ? she'll fly at your face 
 like a cat ! " 
 
 Pille-Miche laughed uproariously as he replied : 
 
 " Qiiien, I take her home too ; I'll tie her." 
 
 " All right, let's harness the horses," said Marche- 
 a-Terre. 
 
 A moment later Marche-a-Terre, having left his 
 comrade watching his prey, pulled the caleche 
 through the gate on to the causeway, and Pille- 
 Miche took his seat beside Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil, not noticing that she was making ready to 
 spring and throw herself into the pond, 
 
 " Ho ! Pille-Miche," cried Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I'll buy all your plunder." 
 
 " Joking? " queried the Chouan, pulling his pris- 
 oner by the skirts as a butcher would hold a calf 
 that was trying to escape. 
 
 " Let me see her and I'll give you a price." 
 
 The poor girl was obliged to alight and stood be-
 
 248 THE CHOUANS 
 
 tween the two Chouans, each of whom held one of 
 her hands, gazing at her as the two old men must 
 have gazed at Suzanne in her bath. 
 
 "Would you like thirty good francs a year?" 
 said Marche-a-Terre with a sigh. 
 
 " Honor bright? " 
 
 " Agreed ? " said Marche-a-Terre, offering his 
 hand. 
 
 " Oh ! I agree ; I can have Breton girls with 
 that, and godaines too ! — But the carriage, who 
 gets the carriage? " continued Pille-Miche on second 
 thought. 
 
 "I do ! " cried Marche-a-Terre, in a voice of 
 thunder, which denoted the sort of superiority over 
 all his companions that his ferocious nature gave 
 him. 
 
 " But suppose there's gold in it ? " 
 
 " Didn't you agree ? " 
 
 " Yes, 1 agreed." 
 
 " Well, go and bring the postilion, who's tied up 
 in the stable." 
 
 " But suppose there's gold in the — " 
 
 "Is there any?" Marche-a-Terre suddenly de- 
 manded of Marie, shaking her by the arm. 
 
 " I have about three hundred francs," she replied. 
 
 At that, the Chouans exchanged glances. 
 
 "Well, my good friend, let's not fight over a 
 Blue," said Pille-Miche in Marche-a-Terre's ear ; 
 "let's pitch her into the pond with a stone round 
 her neck and divide the three hundred francs." 
 
 " I'll give you the three hundred francs out of my
 
 THE CHOUANS 249 
 
 share of D'Orgemont's ransom ! " cried Marche- 
 a-Terre, stifling a groan extorted by the sacrifice. 
 
 Pille-Miche uttered a sort of hoarse cry and went 
 to fetch the postilion. His joy brought disaster to 
 the captain whom he chanced to meet. When he 
 heard the report, Marche-a-Terre hurried to the spot 
 where Francine, still shivering with fear, was pray- 
 ing on her knees, with clasped hands, beside the 
 poor captain's body, the spectacle of a genuine mur- 
 der had caused her such a cruel shock. 
 
 "Run to your mistress," said the Chouan ab- 
 ruptly, " she is saved ! " 
 
 He ran himself to fetch the postilion, returned 
 with the rapidity of a lightning flash, and as he 
 passed Merle's body again, he noticed the Gars's 
 glove still convulsively clutched in his hand, 
 
 " Qho ! " he cried, " Pille-Miche did a treacherous 
 thing that time ! he isn't sure of living to enjoy his 
 income." 
 
 He snatched away the glove and said to Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil, who was already sitting in the 
 caleche with Francine : 
 
 " Here, take this glove. If any men attack you 
 on the road, cry out : Oh ! le Gars ! show this pass- 
 port and no harm will happen to you. — Francine," 
 he said, turning to her and seizing her hand in his 
 strong grasp, " we are quits with this woman ; come 
 with me and let the devil take her." 
 
 " You want me to desert her at such a time as 
 this ! " replied Francine in a sorrowful tone. 
 
 Marche-a-Terre scratched his ear and his fore-
 
 250 THE CHOUANS 
 
 head ; then he raised his head and showed his eyes 
 in which there was a fierce gleam. 
 
 "All right," he said. "I leave you with her a 
 week ; if, at the end of that time, you don't come 
 with me — " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence, but struck the 
 barrel of his carbine a violent blow with the flat of 
 his hand. Having gone through the motion of tak- 
 ing aim at his mistress, he disappeared without 
 waiting for a reply. 
 
 As soon as the Chouan had gone, a hollow voice 
 that seemed to come from the pond cried : 
 
 " Madame ! madame ! " 
 
 The postilion and the two women shuddered with 
 horror, for several bodies had floated to that point. 
 A Blue, who was hidden behind a tree, emerged 
 from his place of concealment. 
 
 " Let me get up behind your van, or I'm a dead 
 man ! That damned glass of cider Clef-des-Coeurs 
 wanted to drink cost more than one pint of blood ! 
 If he'd followed my example and made his round, 
 our poor comrades wouldn't be floating there like 
 skiffs." 
 
 While these events were taking place outside the 
 chateau, the leaders from La Vendee and the leaders 
 of the Chouans were holding council, glass in hand, 
 under the presidency of the Marquis de Montauran. 
 Frequent libations of Bordeaux gave life to the dis- 
 cussion, which became grave and momentous toward 
 the close of the banquet. At dessert, as soon as 
 the common plan of military operations was deter-
 
 THE CHOUANS 2$ I 
 
 mined upon, the Royalists drank the health of the 
 Bourbons. At that moment, the report of Pille- 
 Miche's musket rang out like an echo of the disas- 
 trous war that those jovial and nobly born conspira- 
 tors proposed to wage upon the Republic. Madame 
 du Gua started ; at that movement, caused by the 
 pleasure of knowing that she was rid of her rival, 
 the guests looked at one another in silence, while 
 the marquis rose from the table and left the room. 
 
 "He did love her though!" said Madame du 
 Gua ironically. " Go and keep him company, Mon- 
 sieur de Fontaine ; he'll be as tiresome as the flies, 
 if we leave him with his black thoughts." 
 
 She went to the window looking on the courtyard 
 to try and discover Marie's body. From there she 
 could make out, by the last rays of the moon, the 
 caleche driving along the avenue of apple trees with 
 incredible celerity. Mademoiselle de Verneuil's shawl 
 was fluttering in the wind outside of the vehicle. 
 At that sight Madame du Gua, in a furious rage, 
 left the party. 
 
 The marquis, leaning against the rail on the stoop, 
 absorbed in gloomy meditation, was looking at 
 about a hundred and fifty Chouans, who, having 
 divided their plunder in the garden, had returned to 
 finish the cask of cider and the bread promised to 
 the Blues. These soldiers, of a new type, upon 
 whom the hopes of the monarchy were founded, 
 were drinking in groups, while seven or eight of 
 them stood on the bank opposite the main entrance, 
 amusing themselves by throwing into the water the
 
 252 THE CHOUANS 
 
 bodies of the Blues, to which they tied heavy stones. 
 That spectacle, combined with the diverse pictures 
 presented by the strange costumes and fierce ex- 
 pressions of the reckless, barbarous gars, was so 
 novel and so extraordinary to Monsieur de Fontaine, 
 accustomed as he was to the Vendean troops, in 
 whose appearance there was something of nobility 
 and regularity, that he seized the opportunity to say 
 to the Marquis de Montauran : 
 
 " What do you hope to be able to do with such 
 beasts?" 
 
 " Not much, eh, my dear count? " replied the 
 Gars. 
 
 " Will they ever learn how to manoeuvre in pres- 
 ence of the Republicans? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Will they ever be able even to understand and 
 carry out your orders ? " 
 
 "Never." 
 
 " What will they ever be good for to you, then? " 
 
 "To plunge my sword into the entrails of the 
 Republic ! " replied the marquis in a voice of 
 thunder ; "to give me Fougeres in three days and 
 all Bretagne in ten ! — Go, monsieur," he said in a 
 milder tone, "go back to La Vendee; only let 
 D'Autichamp, Suzannet, Abbe Bernier march as 
 rapidly as I do ; let them not treat with the First 
 Consul, as I have been led to fear they might do — " 
 at that point he grasped the Vendean's hand and 
 pressed it — "then we shall be within thirty leagues 
 of Paris in three weeks."
 
 THE CHOUANS 253 
 
 " But the Republic is sending sixty thousand men 
 and General Brune against us." 
 
 "Sixty thousand men! indeed?" rejoined the 
 marquis with a mocking laugh. " And with what 
 will General Bonaparte make the Italian campaign ? 
 As for General Brune, he won't come, Bonaparte 
 has sent him against the English in Holland, and 
 General Hedouville, the friend of our friend Barras, 
 takes his place here. Do you understand me? " 
 
 Hearing him speak thus. Monsieur de Fontaine 
 looked at the Marquis de Montauran with a shrewd, 
 cunning air which seemed to reproach him for not 
 himself understanding the mysterious words that 
 were addressed to him. Thereupon the two gentle- 
 men understood each other perfectly ; but the young 
 leader replied with an indefinable smile to the 
 thoughts they expressed with their eyes : 
 
 " Monsieur de Fontaine, do you know my coat of 
 arms? My motto is : Persevere until death." 
 
 The Comte de Fontaine took Montauran's hand 
 and pressed it, saying : 
 
 " I have been left for dead at Quatre-Chemins, 
 so you cannot doubt me ; but trust my experience, 
 times have changed — " 
 
 " Oh ! yes," said La Billardiere, joining them. 
 " You are young, marquis ! Listen to me ; your 
 property hasn't all been sold — " 
 
 " Ah ! try to conceive of devotion without sacri- 
 fice ! " said Montauran. 
 
 " Do you know the king well? " said La Billar- 
 diere.
 
 254 THE CHOUANS 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I admire you." 
 
 " The king," replied the young leader, " is the 
 priest, and I fight for the faith ! " 
 
 They separated, the Vendean convinced of the 
 necessity of resigning himself to events as they 
 came, keeping his faith warm in his heart, La Bil- 
 lardi^re to return to England, Montauran to fight 
 desperately, and, by the triumphs of which he 
 dreamed, to compel the Vendeans to cooperate in 
 his undertaking. 
 
 These events had aroused such intense emotion in 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil's soul, that she lay back 
 in the carriage, utterly prostrated and like a dead 
 woman, after giving the order to drive to Foug^res. 
 Francine was as silent as her mistress. The postil- 
 ion, fearing some new adventure, made haste to 
 reach the high road and they soon arrived at the 
 summit of La Pelerine. 
 
 In the dense, grayish mist of the morning, Marie 
 de Verneuil crossed the broad lovely valley of 
 Couesnon, in which this narrative opened, and she 
 could scarcely make out, from the top of La Pelerine, 
 the schistose cliff upon which Fougeres is built. The 
 travellers were still about two leagues from the 
 town. As she was suffering intensely from cold 
 herself. Mademoiselle de Verneuil thought of the 
 poor soldier who was riding behind the carriage, and 
 insisted, despite his refusal, that he should take a 
 seat inside, beside Francine. The sight of Fou- 
 geres diverted her mind for one moment from her
 
 THE CHOUANS 255 
 
 reflections. Furthermore, as the guard stationed at 
 Porte Saint-Leonard refused to admit strangers to 
 the town, she was obliged to exhibit her letter from 
 the ministry ; she fancied herself safe from any- 
 hostile undertaking when she had entered that for- 
 tified place, whose inhabitants were, at the mo- 
 ment, its only defenders. The postilion could find 
 no shelter anywhere except at the Hotel de la Poste. 
 
 "Madame," said the Blue whose life she had 
 saved, " if you ever want a little work with the 
 sabre done on any man, my life is at your service. 
 I am good at that. My name is Jean Falcon, other- 
 wise called Beau-Pied, sergeant in the first com- 
 pany of Hulot's lapins, seventy-second demi-brigade, 
 nicknamed La Mqyencaise. Excuse my presump- 
 tion and my vanity ; but I can offer you only a 
 sergeant's heart ; I have only that at your service, 
 at this moment." 
 
 He turned on his heel and walked away whist- 
 ling. 
 
 " The lower we go in the social scale, the more 
 generous sentiments we find, generous without 
 ostentation," said Marie bitterly. " A marquis 
 gives me death for life, and a sergeant— But, let us 
 say no more about it." 
 
 When the fair Parisian was safely bestowed in a 
 well-warmed bed, her faithful Francine waited in 
 vain for the affectionate word to which she was ac- 
 customed ; but, when she saw her standing anxiously 
 by her bedside, her mistress moved her head with a 
 sad smile.
 
 256 THE CHOUANS 
 
 "They call this a day, Francine," she said, " 1 
 am ten years older ! " 
 
 The next morning, when Marie had arisen, Co- 
 rentin made his appearance, and upon asking to 
 see her, was admitted. 
 
 "Francine," she said, "something terrible must 
 have happened to me, for the sight of Corentin will 
 not be altogether distasteful to me." 
 
 Nevertheless, when she saw the man, she was 
 conscious for the thousandth time of an instinctive 
 repugnance, which an acquaintance of two years 
 had not allayed. 
 
 " Well, well," he said, smiling, " I thought we had 
 been successful. So he wasn't the man after all ? " 
 
 " Corentin," she replied, as an expression of pain 
 stole slowly over her face, "don't mention that 
 affair to me until I mention it myself." 
 
 The fellow walked up and down the room, glanc- 
 ing obliquely at Mademoiselle de Verneuil and try- 
 ing to divine the secret thoughts of that strange 
 girl, whose glance was keen enough to disconcert 
 the cleverest men at times. 
 
 " I have provided for this set-back," he rejoined 
 after a moment's silence. " I have already made 
 inquiries, thinking that you might wish to make 
 your headquarters in this town. We are at the 
 very heart of the Chouan uprising. Do you wish 
 to stay here ? " 
 
 She answered with an affirmative nod, which 
 caused Corentin to form conjectures, in part true, as 
 to the events of the preceding night.
 
 THE CHOUANS 257 
 
 " I have hired for you an unsold house belonging 
 to the nation. They are a long way behind the 
 times in this province. No one dares purchase the 
 barrack, because it belonged to an emigre, who has 
 the reputation of a brute. It is near Saint-Leonard 
 Church, and, on my word of honor, there's an en- 
 chanting view from it. You can have the kennel, 
 if you wish ; it's inhabitable ; will you come and 
 look at it?" 
 
 " Instantly," she cried. 
 
 " But 1 must have a few hours more to have it 
 cleaned and put to rights, so that you may find 
 everything to your liking." 
 
 "What does it matter?" she said, "I would 
 willingly live in a cloister or a prison. However, 
 arrange so that I can rest there to-night in absolute 
 solitude. Go, leave me. Your presence is unen- 
 durable to me. I wish to be alone with Francine, 
 1 shall be more contented with her than with myself 
 perhaps. Adieu. Go ! go, I say ! " 
 
 These words, uttered volubly, and instinct with 
 coquetry, with despotism, with passion in turn, 
 denoted in her case perfect tranquillity of mind. 
 Doubtless, sleep had slowly driven away the im- 
 pressions of the preceding day, and reflection had 
 counselled vengeance. If now and then a sombre 
 expression passed across her face, it seemed to bear 
 witness to the faculty certain women possess of bury- 
 ing the most exalted sentiments in their hearts, and 
 to the dissimulation that enables them to smile 
 sweetly while scheming the destruction of their 
 17
 
 258 THE CHOUANS 
 
 victim. Her mind was full of plans for getting the 
 marquis into her hands, alive. For the first time, 
 she had lived as she wished to live ; but of that 
 life, only a single sentiment remained, the thirst for 
 vengeance, for complete, boundless vengeance. That 
 was her only thought, her only passion. Francine's 
 words and attentions found Marie dumb, she seemed 
 to be sleeping with her eyes open ; and the long day 
 passed without a movement or act to indicate the 
 external life that bears witness to our thoughts. She 
 lay all day upon a couch she had made of chairs 
 and pillows. In the evening, however, she let fall 
 these words, looking at Francine : 
 
 " My child, I learned yesterday that one lives to 
 love, and I realize to-day that one may die to be 
 revenged. Yes, to go and find him wherever he is, 
 to meet him once more, to fascinate him and have 
 him for my own, 1 would give my life ! But if, 
 within a few days, I do not have him under my 
 feet, humble and submissive — this man who has 
 treated me with contempt — if I do not make him my 
 valet, why I shall be beneath contempt, I shall no 
 longer be a woman, 1 shall no longer be myself ! " 
 
 The house Corentin had proposed to Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil offered sufficient resources to satisfy her 
 innate taste for elegance and luxury ; he collected 
 everything that he knew was likely to please her, 
 with the zeal of a lover working for his mistress, or, 
 better still, with the servility of a powerful man 
 seeking to win the favor of some weaker vessel of 
 whom he has need. The next day he came and
 
 THE CHOUANS 259 
 
 suggested that Mademoiselle de Verneuil should visit 
 that improvised abode. 
 
 Although she did no more than pass from her 
 wretched couch to an antique sofa that Corentin had 
 found for her, the eccentric Parisian took possession 
 of the house as of a thing that belonged to her. She 
 exhibited a queenly indifference for everything she 
 saw there, followed by a sudden attachment to the 
 most trifling articles, which she appropriated all at 
 once as if they had long been familiar to her : com- 
 monplace details, but not unimportant in describing 
 such exceptional characters. It seemed as if a dream 
 had already familiarized her with that place of 
 abode, where she lived with her hatred as she would 
 have lived there with her love. 
 
 " At all events," she said to herself, " I have not 
 caused him to feel that insulting compassion that 
 kills one, I do not owe my life to him. O my first 
 and last and only love, what an ending ! " 
 
 She pounced upon the startled Francine. 
 
 " Are you in love ? Oh ! yes, you are in love, I 
 remember. Ah ! I am very fortunate to have with 
 me a woman who understands me. My poor Fran- 
 cine, doesn't man seem to you a frightful creature ? 
 Hein ! he said that he loved me and he did not resist 
 the slightest test of his love. But if the whole 
 world had spurned him, my heart would have been 
 a safe refuge for him ; if the universe had accused 
 him, I would have defended him ! Formerly the 
 world was filled with men and women who went 
 and came and were simply indifferent to me ; the
 
 26o THE CHOUANS 
 
 world was sad but not horrible ; but now, what is 
 the world without him ? He is to live on and I am 
 not to be beside him, I am not to see him, speak to 
 him, feel him, hold him, embrace him. Ah! rather 
 would I kill him myself in his sleep ! " 
 
 Francine, in dismay, gazed at her a moment in 
 silence. 
 
 " Kill the man you love ? " she said in a soft voice. 
 
 " Yes, to be sure, when he no longer loves me." 
 
 But, after those terrible words, she hid her face 
 in her hands, resumed her seat and said no more. 
 
 The next morning, a man appeared unceremoni- 
 ously in her apartment, unannounced. His face was 
 stern. It was Hulot. Corentin accompanied him. 
 She raised her eyes and shuddered. 
 
 " You have come," she said, "to ask about your 
 friends ? They are dead." 
 
 " 1 know it," replied Hulot. " They did not die 
 in the service of the Republic ! " 
 
 " For me and by my means," she rejoined. 
 " You talk to me of the country ! Does the country 
 restore life to those who die for her ? does she so 
 much as avenge them ? But 1 will avenge them ! " 
 she cried. 
 
 As the ghastly image of the catastrophe whose 
 victim she had been, suddenly stood forth before her 
 imagination, that lovely creature, who placed mod- 
 esty first among the artifices of woman, seemed 
 for the moment to have gone mad. She walked 
 with a quick, jerky gait to where the stupefied com- 
 mandant stood.
 
 THE CHOUANS 261 
 
 " For a few murdered soldiers, 1 will bring to the 
 axe of your scaffolds a head that is worth thousands 
 of heads ! " she exclaimed. " Women rarely make 
 war, but, old as you are, you can learn some useful 
 ruses in my school, I will hand over a whole family 
 to your bayonets ! his ancestors and himself, his 
 future and his past. I will be as perfidious and false 
 to him as 1 have been kind and true. Yes, com- 
 mandant, I propose to lure that little nobleman into 
 my bed, and he shall leave it to go to his death. 
 You see, I will not endure a rival. The wretch pro- 
 nounced his sentence upon me : a day without a 
 morrow! Your Republic and I will both have our 
 revenge. — The Republic ! " she continued, in a voice 
 whose extraordinary intonations terrified Hulot ; 
 " but in that case the rebel will die for having borne 
 arms against his country, will he not ? In that 
 case France would rob me of my vengeance ? Ah ! 
 what a small thing life is, when one death expiates 
 but one crime ! But, although that gentleman has 
 but one head to lose, I shall have one night to make 
 him think he is losing more than one life. Above 
 all things, commandant, do you, who will kill him" 
 — she sighed heavily — "see to it that nothing be- 
 trays my treachery, and that he dies convinced of 
 my fidelity, I ask nothing but that of you. Let him 
 see only myself, myself and my caresses ! " 
 
 With that she held her peace ; but, through the 
 purple flush upon her face, Hulot and Corentin saw 
 that the sentiment of modesty was not entirely 
 stifled by anger and excitement. Marie shivered
 
 262 THE CHOUANS 
 
 violently as she said the last words ; she seemed to 
 listen for them again as if she doubted whether she 
 had uttered them, and started innocently with the 
 involuntary gesture of a woman whose veil is fall- 
 ing. 
 
 "But you have had him in your hands!" said 
 Corentin. 
 
 " Probably," she replied in a bitter tone. 
 
 " Why did you stop me when 1 had my hands on 
 him ? " demanded Hulot. 
 
 " Why, commandant, we didn't know that it was 
 he." 
 
 Suddenly the excited creature, who was striding 
 rapidly back and forth, with devouring glances at the 
 two spectators of the storm, became perfectly calm. 
 
 " 1 don't know myself," she said in a man's voice. 
 " Why do we talk ? we must go and find him ! " 
 
 "Go and find him ?" said Hulot. "Why, my 
 dear child, you must be careful ; we are not masters 
 of the fields, and if you should venture out of the 
 town, you would be taken or shot within a hundred 
 yards." 
 
 " There is never any danger for those who seek 
 revenge ! " she replied, waving her hand disdain- 
 fully to dismiss the two men, whom she was 
 ashamed to look in the face. 
 
 " What a woman ! " cried Hulot, as he withdrew 
 with Corentin. " What an idea it was of the police 
 authorities in Paris ! But she'll never give him up 
 to us," he added, shaking his head. 
 
 " Oh I yes," said Corentin.
 
 THE CHOUANS 263 
 
 " Don't you see that she loves him ? " asked 
 Hulot. 
 
 " That's the very reason. Besides," said Coren- 
 tin, glancing at the astonished commandant, " 1 am 
 here to prevent her doing foolish things ; for, in my 
 judgment, comrade, there's no love that is worth 
 three hundred thousand francs." 
 
 When the diplomat of the Interior Department 
 left the soldier, the latter follov/ed him with his 
 eyes ; and when he could no longer hear the sound 
 of his footsteps, he sighed, saying to himself : 
 
 "I wonder if it isn't an advantage sometimes to 
 be an old fool like myself ? Tonnerre de Dieu ! if I 
 fall in with the Gars, we will fight hand to hand, or 
 my name's not Hulot ; for, if yonder fox should 
 bring me to book, now that they have created courts 
 martial, I should deem my conscience as foul as the 
 shirt of a young trooper when he's under fire for the 
 first time." 
 
 The massacre of La Vivetiere and the desire to 
 avenge his two friends had influenced Hulot as 
 powerfully to resume the command of his demi- 
 brigade, as the reply of the new minister, Berthier, 
 to the effect that his resignation would not be ac- 
 cepted under existing circumstances. With the 
 ministerial despatch was sent a confidential letter in 
 which, without informing him v/hat Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil's mission was, he wrote him that it was 
 entirely distinct from the war itself, and was not to 
 interfere with the military operations. The partici- 
 pation of the military officers in that affair was
 
 264 THE CHOUANS 
 
 limited, he said, to assisting that honorable citi^^^emss 
 if occasion should arise. Learning from current 
 rumors that the movements of the Chouans indi- 
 cated a concentration of their forces in the neighbor- 
 hood of Fougeres, Hulot had secretly led two battal- 
 ions of his demi-brigade to that important post by a 
 forced march. The country's danger, his hatred of 
 the aristocracy, whose partisans were threatening a 
 considerable extent of country, and his grief at the 
 loss of his friends had all contributed to rekindle in 
 the old soldier's breast the fire of his youth. 
 
 " And this is the life I longed for ! " cried Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil when she was alone with Fran- 
 cine ; " however swiftly the hours fly, they are to 
 me like centuries of thinking." 
 
 She seized Francine's hand abruptly, and her 
 voice, like that of the first redbreast that sings after 
 the tempest, slowly uttered these words : 
 
 " It's of no use, my child, I see always before me 
 those sweet lips, that short, slightly raised chin and 
 those eyes of fire, and I still hear the postilion's 
 Hue! In fact, 1 am dreaming — and why need I hate 
 him so when I wake } " 
 
 She heaved a deep sigh and rose to her feet ; then, 
 for the first time, she began to look about at the 
 country aroused to civil war by the cruel nobleman 
 whom she proposed to attack, single-handed and 
 alone. Fascinated by the beauty of the landscape, 
 she left the house, to breathe more freely in the 
 open air ; and if she chose her path at random, she 
 certainly v/as guided toward the Promenade of the
 
 THE CHOUANS 265 
 
 town by the witchcraft of our minds that leads us to 
 seek hope in the absurd. Thoughts conceived under 
 the empire of that spell are often realized ; but in 
 that case we attribute the prevision to the power 
 called presentiment ; an unexplained but real power, 
 which the passions always find obliging, like a flat- 
 terer who, among his numerous falsehoods some- 
 times tells the truth.
 
 Ill 
 
 A DAY WITHOUT A MORROW 
 
 As the concluding events of this narrative were 
 governed largely by the disposition of the localities 
 in which they took place, it is indispensable to give 
 here a minute description of those localities, without 
 which the final catastrophe might be difficult of com- 
 prehension. 
 
 The town of Fougeres is situated in part upon a 
 schistose cliff, which one would say had at some 
 time fallen forward from the mountains which close 
 the broad valley of Couesnon at its western end, 
 and take different names corresponding with their 
 locations. The town is separated from the moun- 
 tains to the westward by a gorge, at the bottom of 
 which flows a little stream called the Nangon. That 
 part of the cliff that faces to the east has the same 
 prospect that one enjoys from the summit of La 
 Pelerine, while the part facing west overlooks 
 nothing but the winding valley of the Nanfon ; but 
 
 there is one spot from which the view includes a 
 
 (267)
 
 268 THE CHOUANS 
 
 segment of the circle formed by the great valley and 
 also the lovely meanderings of the smaller valley 
 that opens into it. That spot, which was selected 
 by the inhabitants for their promenade, and whither 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil now bent her steps, was 
 the stage upon which the drama, begun at La 
 Viveti^re, was to come to its denouement. And so, 
 however picturesque the other portions of Fougeres 
 may be, our attention must be directed exclusively 
 to the peculiarities of the district that can be seen 
 from the Promenade. 
 
 To give an idea of the aspect presented by the 
 cliff of Fougeres when seen from that side, we may 
 compare it to one of the immense towers outside of 
 which Saracen architects built, from floor to floor, 
 broad balconies joined to one another by spiral stair- 
 cases. At the summit is a Gothic church, whose 
 small spires, bell-tower and buttresses make it an 
 almost perfect sugar loaf in shape. In front of the 
 door of the church, which is dedicated to Saint- 
 Leonard, is a small square of irregular shape, sup- 
 ported by a raised wall like a balustrade, from which 
 a flight of steps leads to the Promenade. This es- 
 planade winds about the cliff like a second cornice, a 
 few yards below Place Saint-Leonard, and presents 
 to view a broad tract planted with trees, which ex- 
 tends to the fortifications of the town. About sixty 
 feet from the walls and rocks that support this ter- 
 race, which we owe to the fortunate disposition of 
 the schist and to patient toil, is a winding road 
 called the Queen's Staircase, cut in the rock, which
 
 THE CHOUANS 269 
 
 leads to a bridge over the Nangon built by Anne de 
 Bretagne. And under this road, which forms a third 
 cornice, gardens descend from terrace to terrace 
 even to the river, like steps laden with flowers. 
 
 Parallel to the Promenade, a succession of high 
 cliffs which take the name of the suburb in which 
 they begin and are called the mountains of Saint- 
 Sulpice, extend along the river and then descend in 
 gentle slopes to the great valley where they take a 
 sharp turn to the north. These cliffs, steep, barren 
 and threatening, seem to touch the slaty rocks of 
 the Promenade : in some places they are within gun- 
 shot and form a protection against the north winds 
 for a narrow valley, six hundred feet deep, where 
 the Nancon divides into three arms which water a 
 plain crowded with factories and in a high state of 
 cultivation. 
 
 Toward the south, at the point where the town 
 properly so-called comes to an end, and the faubourg 
 of Saint-Leonard begins, the cliff of Fougeres makes 
 a turn, becomes less steep, diminishes in height, and 
 sweeps down into the great valley, following the 
 river, which it forces thus against the mountains of 
 Saint-Sulpice, forming a narrow defile, whence it 
 escapes in two streams flowing toward Couesnon, 
 into which they both empty. This pretty group of 
 stony hills is called the Nid-aiix-Crocs, the valley 
 between them is the Val de Gibarry, and its rich 
 meadows furnish a large part of the butter known to 
 epicures as La Prevalaye butter. 
 
 At the point where the Promenade touches the
 
 270 THE CHOUANS 
 
 fortifications, stands a tower called the TourduPape- 
 gaut. Starting from this square structure, near 
 which was the house occupied by Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil, are high walls, or the rock itself when it 
 is sufficiently smooth and steep ; and the portion of 
 the town located on this high impregnable base 
 describes a great half-moon, at the end of which the 
 cliffs slope and fall away to give passage to the 
 Nancon. At that point is the gate leading to Fau- 
 bourg Saint-Sulpice, which name is common to the 
 gate and the faubourg. Farther on, upon a granite 
 peak that dominates three valleys, where several 
 roads meet, rise the ancient crenelated feudal towers 
 of the chateau of Fougeres, one of the hugest struc- 
 tures erected by the dukes of Bretagne, with walls 
 ninety feet high and fifteen feet thick ; sheltered on 
 the east by a pond, from which the Nangon takes 
 its source, flowing through its moats, and turning 
 mill-wheels between Porte Saint-Sulpice and the 
 drawbridges of the fortress ; defended on the west 
 by the solidity of the blocks of granite on which it 
 rests. 
 
 Thus, from the Promenade to this magnificent 
 ruin of the Middle Ages, enveloped in its mantle of 
 ivy, embellished with its round and square towers, 
 in each of which a whole regiment may be quartered 
 — the chateau, the town and its cliff, protected by 
 perpendicular walls or escarpments hewn out of the 
 solid rock, form a vast horseshoe, surrounded by 
 precipices upon which the Bretons have, in the 
 course of time, cut some few narrow paths. Here
 
 THE CHOUANS 27I 
 
 and there huge boulders protrude like ornaments. 
 In some places, water trickles out from the crevices 
 in which stunted trees are growing. Farther on, 
 some portions of the cliff, less steep than others, 
 afford a foothold for verdure which attracts the 
 goats. On all sides the heather, growing in damp 
 fissures, carpets the dark inequalities of the ground 
 with its pink garlands. At the bottom of this im- 
 mense tunnel, the little river winds its way through 
 plains always green, and smooth as a carpet. 
 
 At the foot of the chateau, in the midst of huge 
 masses of granite, stands the church dedicated to 
 Saint-Sulpice, which gives its name to a suburb on 
 the other side of the Nangon. This suburb, which 
 seems to have been tossed into an abyss, and its 
 church, whose pointed steeple falls short of the top 
 of the cliffs that seem ready to topple over upon it 
 and upon the cottages that surround it, are pictur- 
 esquely bathed by some of the streams tributary to 
 the Nanfon, shaded by trees and embellished by 
 gardens ; they make a jagged dent in the half-moon 
 described by the Promenade, the town and the 
 chateau, and offer, in their details, a striking con- 
 trast to the solemn aspect of the amphitheatre they 
 face. Lastly, Fougeres as a whole, its suburbs and 
 its churches, and even the mountains of Saint- 
 Sulpice, are surmounted by the heights of Rille, 
 which form a part of the general chain enclosing the 
 valley of Couesnon. 
 
 Such are the most salient features of this locality, 
 whose principal characteristic is a wild roughness,
 
 272 THE CHOUANS 
 
 softened by laughing details, by a happy combina- 
 tion of the most magnificent works of man with the 
 caprices of a soil bristling with unexpected contrasts, 
 by an indefinable something that takes one con- 
 stantly by surprise, that astonishes and bewilders 
 one. Nowhere in France does the traveller find 
 such grand contrasts as those presented by the great 
 basin of the Couesnon and the smaller valleys lost 
 among the heights of Rille and the cliffs of Foug^res. 
 They abound in those wonderful beauties in which 
 chance triumphs over design, and which are lacking 
 in none of the harmonies of nature. There are 
 clear, limpid, swift flowing streams ; mountains clad 
 in the hardy vegetation of those regions ; threaten- 
 ing cliffs and graceful buildings ; fortifications built 
 by nature, and granite towers built by men ; and all 
 the artifices of light and shade, all the contrasts be- 
 tween the different kinds of foliage, so highly prized 
 by painters ; groups of houses swarming with an 
 active population, and desert places where the 
 granite does not suffer the presence even of the 
 white moss that clings to rocks ; in a word, all the 
 details that one can ask of a landscape : graceful 
 beauty and awful grandeur ; a poem full of magic 
 charms, sublime pictures, delightful rustic scenes ! 
 It is Bretagne in its flower. 
 
 The Tour du Papegaut, so called, upon which the 
 house occupied by Mademoiselle de Verneuil was 
 built, has its base at the very foot of the precipice, 
 and rises to the esplanade constructed in the shape 
 of a cornice in front of Saint-Leonard's church.
 
 THE CHOUANS 273 
 
 From that house, isolated on three sides, one could 
 see at the same moment the great horseshoe that 
 begins at the tower, the serpentine valley of the 
 Nanfon, and Place Saint-Leonard. It was one of a 
 row of wooden buildings three centuries old, situated 
 on a line parallel with the southern side of the 
 church, with which they form a narrow lane leading 
 into a street that runs down hill, skirting the church 
 wall, to Porte Saint-Leonard, toward which Mademoi- 
 selle de Verneuil was descending. 
 
 Marie naturally walked toward the Promenade, 
 instead of turning into the square in front of the 
 church, which was farther up the hill. When she 
 had passed through the little green wicket in front 
 of the military post then stationed in the tower of 
 Porte Saint-Leonard, the magnificence of the spec- 
 tacle imposed silence on her passions for a moment. 
 She gazed in admiration at the vast segment of the 
 great valley of Couesnon which lay before her eyes, 
 from the summit of La Pelerine to the plateau over 
 which the Vitre road passes ; then her eyes rested 
 on the Nid-aux-Crocs and the tortuous windings of 
 the l^al de Gibarry, whose surrounding peaks were 
 bathed in the misty rays of the setting sun. She 
 was almost terrified by the depth of the valley of 
 the Nang:on, whose tallest poplars barely reached 
 the walls of the gardens below the Queen's Stair- 
 way. She progressed from surprise to surprise 
 until she reached the point from which she could see 
 both the great valley, across the Val de Gibarry, and 
 
 the lovely landscape framed by the horseshoe of the 
 18
 
 274 THE CHOUANS 
 
 town, by the mountains of Saint-Sulpice and by the 
 heights of Rille. At that hour of the day, the smoke 
 from the liouses in the faubourg and in the valleys 
 formed a sort of cloud, so that objects could be seen 
 only through a bluish veil ; the too vivid tints of the 
 sunlight were beginning to fadeaway ; the sky took 
 on a pearl-gray hue ; the moon cast its veil of light 
 over the beautiful abyss : everything, in fact, tended 
 to plunge the soul in reverie and to assist in evoking 
 the images of dear ones. 
 
 But suddenly neither the tiled roofs of Faubourg 
 Saint-Sulpice, nor its church, whose audacious spire 
 was lost to sight in the depths of the valley, nor the 
 century old cloaks of ivy and clematis that enveloped 
 the walls of the ancient fortress through which the 
 Nanfon foamed beneath the mill wheels — in a word, 
 nothing in the landscape now interested her. In 
 vain did the setting sun cast its golden dust and its 
 red beams upon the graceful dwellings scattered 
 among the cliffs, along the streams, and over the 
 meadows, she stood motionless before the rocks of 
 Saint-Sulpice. The mad hope that had led her to 
 the Promenade was miraculously fulfilled. Through 
 the clumps of broom growing upon the opposite sum- 
 mits, she thought that she could recognize, despite 
 the goatskins in which they were dressed, several of 
 the guests at La Viveti^re, among them the Gars, 
 whose slightest movements were distinguishable in 
 the softened light of the setting sun. A few steps 
 behind the principal group, she saw her redoubtable 
 foe, Madame du Gua. For a moment, Mademoiselle
 
 THE CHOUANS 275 
 
 de Verneuil might well have thought that she was 
 dreaming ; but her rival's hatred soon proved that 
 everything was living in that dream. The profound 
 attention with which she observed the marquis's 
 slightest gesture prevented her noticing that Ma- 
 dame du Gua was taking careful aim at her with a 
 long gun. Soon a report awoke the mountain echoes, 
 and the bullet that whistled by Marie's head revealed 
 her rival's skill. 
 
 " She sends me her card I " she said to herself 
 with a smile. 
 
 At the same moment a succession of Qtii vives ? 
 rang out, from sentinel to sentinel, from the chateau 
 to Porte Saint-Leonard, and proved to the Chouans 
 the watchfulness of the Fougerais, since the least 
 vulnerable portion of their ramparts was so well 
 guarded. 
 
 " It is she and it is he ! " said Marie to herself. 
 
 To go in pursuit of the marquis, to follow him, to 
 take him by surprise — the thought passed through 
 her mind like a flash of lightning. 
 
 ** I have no weapon ! " she cried. 
 
 Then she remembered that when she left Paris 
 she had thrown into one of her boxes a beautiful 
 poniard, once worn by a sultan's favorite, with which 
 she thought it well to arm herself when about to 
 visit the scene of war, like those amusing persons 
 who provide themselves with note-books in which to 
 jot down the ideas that come to them while travel- 
 ing ; but at that time, she was thinking less of the 
 prospect of having to shed blood than of the pleasure
 
 276 THE CHOUANS 
 
 of carrying a pretty hanger adorned with precious 
 stones and of playing with the gleaming blade. 
 Three days before, she had keenly regretted having 
 left the weapon in her box, when she had longed to 
 kill herself in order to escape the degrading punish- 
 ment which her rival proposed to inflict upon her. 
 She hastened to her room, found the dagger, placed 
 it in her belt, wrapped a great shawl about her waist 
 and shoulders, and a black lace scarf about her head, 
 put on one of the broad-brimmed hats worn by the 
 Chouans, which belonged to a servant in her house, 
 and with the presence of mind that the passions some- 
 times lend, she took the marquis's glove given her 
 by Marche-a-Terre as a passport, said in reply to a 
 question from the terrified Francine : " What would 
 you have ! I would go and seek him in hell ! " and 
 returned to the Promenade. 
 
 The Gars was still in the same place, but alone. 
 Judging from the direction in which his field-glass 
 was pointed, he seemed to be examining, with the 
 careful scrutiny of a soldier, the different fords of the 
 Nanfon, tlie Queen's Stairway, and the road which 
 runs from Porte Saint-Sulpice around the church of 
 that name and joins the main road under the fire of 
 the chateau. Mademoiselle de Verneuil darted into 
 one of the narrow paths worn by the goats and the 
 goatherds on the slope of the Promenade, reached 
 the Queen's Stairway, went down to the foot of the 
 precipice, forded the Nanfon, passed through the 
 faubourg, divined, like a bird in the desert, the path 
 she must take amid the frowning escarpments of the
 
 THE CHOUANS 277 
 
 mountains of Saint-Sulpice, came ere long to a slip- 
 pery road marked out over the blocks of granite, and, 
 despite the broom-plant, the sharp thorns and the 
 stones with which it bristled, she followed it up the 
 mountain with a degree of energy unknown to man, 
 but which woman, when carried away by passion, 
 exhibits momentarily. Darkness surprised Marie 
 just as she reached the summit and was trying to 
 ascertain, with the help of the moon's pale beams, 
 which road the marquis was likely to have taken ; 
 a persistent but unsuccessful search and the prevail- 
 ing silence convinced her that the Chouans and their 
 leader had retired. Her passionate efforts subsided 
 suddenly with the hope that had inspired them. 
 Finding herself alone, in the night-time, in an unfa- 
 miliar country where war was raging, she began to 
 reflect, and the urgent advice of Hulot and Madame 
 du Gua's musket shot made her tremble with fright. 
 The silence of the night, which was so intense on 
 the mountains, enabled her to hear the slightest 
 soundmadeby a falling leaf, even at a great distance, 
 and those faint sounds vibrated in the air as if to 
 furnish a doleful measure of the solitude or the 
 silence. The wind was active in the upper regions 
 and chased the clouds rapidly across the sky, pro- 
 ducing alternations of light and shadow, the effect of 
 which was to increase her terror by imparting a 
 fantastic and awful aspect to the most inoffensive 
 objects. She turned her eyes toward the houses of 
 Foug^res, where the lights twinkled like so many 
 terrestrial stars, and suddenly she saw distinctly the
 
 278 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Tour du Papegaut. She had but a short distance to go 
 to reach her home, but that distance involved a prec- 
 ipice. She remembered enough of the chasms that 
 bordered the narrow path by which she had come to 
 realize that she would encounter greater risks by re- 
 turning to Foug^res than by pursuing her enterprise. 
 She thought that the marquis's glove would do away 
 with all the dangers of her nocturnal expedition, if 
 the Chouans were in possession of the fields. Ma- 
 dame du Gua alone she might have reason to 
 fear. At that thought Marie grasped her dagger and 
 tried to find her way to a house whose roof she had 
 noticed as she approached the cliffs of Saint-Sulpice ; 
 but she walked slowly, for she had hitherto known 
 nothing of the impression of sombre majesty that 
 weighs upon a solitary mortal in the darkness, in the 
 centre of a wild region where lofty mountains rear 
 their heads on all sides like an assemblage of giants. 
 The rustling of her dress as it caught on the 
 thorns, made her start more than once, and more 
 than once she quickened her pace, only to slacken 
 it again, thinking that her last hour had come. But 
 soon her surroundings assumed a character that the 
 most fearless men might well have been unable to 
 resist, and plunged Mademoiselle de Verneuil into 
 one of those paroxysms of terror which press so hard 
 upon the springs of life that everything is exagger- 
 ated in the individuals attacked by them, strength 
 as well as weakness. The feeblest creatures at 
 such times perform incredible feats of strength and 
 the strongest go mad with fear. Marie heard strange
 
 THE CHOUANS 279 
 
 sounds not far away ; distinct and vague at once, as 
 the night was by turns dark and luminous, they 
 denoted confusion, tumult, and the ear was fatigued 
 hy straining to make out what they were ; they 
 came from the bowels of the earth which seemed to 
 tremble beneath the feet of an immense number of 
 marching men. A momentary brightness in the 
 sky enabled Mademoiselle de Verneuil to see, only 
 a few steps away, a long line of hideous figures, 
 which waved back and forth like stalks of grain and 
 glided along like ghosts ; but she hardly saw them, 
 for the darkness fell again at once like a black 
 curtain and shut out that ghastly picture, filled with 
 gleaming yellow eyes. She hastily moved away 
 and ran to the top of a bank, to avoid three of the 
 horrible figures, which were coming toward her. 
 
 " Did you see it? " asked one. 
 
 " 1 felt a cold wind when it passed me," replied a 
 hoarse voice. 
 
 "And I smelt the damp smell of a cemetery," 
 said the third. 
 
 " Is it white ? " asked the first. 
 
 " Why," said the second, " is it the only one to 
 return of all who died at La Pelerine? " 
 
 " Ah ! why, indeed ! " replied the third. " Why 
 do those who belong to the Sacred Heart have the 
 preference } However, I prefer to die without confes- 
 sion rather than wander about like him, without eat- 
 ing or drinking, with no blood in my veins or flesh 
 on my bones ! " 
 
 " Ah ! "
 
 280 THE CHOUANS 
 
 That exclamation, or rather that terrible shriek 
 came from the group when one of the three Chouans 
 pointed to the slender figure and pale face of Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil, who fled with terrifying ra- 
 pidity, but without making the slightest sound. 
 
 " There it is ! "— " There it is ! "— " Where is 
 it? "_" There"— " Here." — "// has gone!"— 
 i' No "— " Yes ! "— " Do you see it? " 
 
 These disjointed sentences sounded like the mo- 
 notonous murmur of waves on the beach. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil ran boldly in the direc- 
 tion of the house and saw the indistinct figures of a 
 number of people who fled at her approach with 
 every indication of panic terror. It was as if she 
 were carried onward by a hitherto unknown power, 
 whose influence controlled her actions ; the inex- 
 plicable lightness of her body became a new subject 
 of terror to herself. Those figures which rose in a 
 body at her approach, as if they had been lying un- 
 derground, emitted groans in which there was 
 nothing human. At last she arrived, not without 
 difficulty, at a neglected garden, the hedges and 
 gates of which were broken down. Being ordered 
 to stop by a sentinel, she showed him her glove. 
 As the moonlight fell upon her face, the carbine fell 
 from the hands of the Chouan, who was already 
 taking aim at her but who, at sight of her face, 
 uttered the same hoarse cry with which the fields 
 were ringing. She saw some large buildings, in 
 which there were lights that indicated occupied 
 rooms, and she reached the walls without meeting
 
 THE CHOUANS 28 1 
 
 any obstacles. Through the first window she ap- 
 proached, she saw Madame du Gua with the leaders 
 who had assembled at La Vivetiere. Bewildered by 
 that sight as well as by her consciousness of her 
 own danger, she rushed hastily to a small opening 
 protected by iron bars, and saw, within two yards 
 of her, the marquis, melancholy and alone, in a long 
 arched hall. The reflection of the fire, in front of 
 which he sat in a clumsy chair, lighted up his face 
 with flickering, ruddy tints that imparted to the 
 scene the character of a vision. Trembling with 
 excitement, the poor girl glued her face to the bars, 
 and hoped in the profound silence that reigned, to 
 hear him if he spoke ; seeing him thus, pale, dis- 
 couraged, prostrated, she flattered herself that she 
 was partly responsible for his depression ; then her 
 anger changed to pity, her pity to tenderness, and 
 she suddenly became conscious that she had not 
 been led thither solely by thoughts of vengeance. 
 The marquis rose, turned his head, and stood as if 
 transfixed when he saw, as in a cloud, the features 
 of Mademoiselle de Verneuil ; he made an impatient, 
 scornful gesture and cried : 
 
 " So I am to see that devil everywhere even when 
 I am awake ! " 
 
 This demonstration of withering scorn extorted 
 from the poor girl a wild laugh that made the young 
 nobleman start, and he rushed to the window. Ma- 
 demoiselle de Verneuil fled. She heard a man's 
 footstep close at hand, which she took to be Mon- 
 tauran's ; and, to escape him, nothing was an ob-
 
 282 THE CHOUANS 
 
 stacle to her, she would have scaled walls and flown 
 through the air, she would have found the road to 
 hell to avoid reading again in letters of flame the 
 words : he despises you ! written on that man's 
 brow — words which a voice within her breast was 
 shouting at her with the sonorous tones of a trumpet. 
 After running some distance without any idea 
 where she was going, she stopped upon feeling a 
 blast of damp air. Alarmed by the sound of foot- 
 steps of several persons and impelled by fear, she 
 descended a staircase that led into a cavern. When 
 she reached the last stair, she listened to see if she 
 could ascertain the direction taken by those who 
 were pursuing her ; but, notwithstanding divers 
 loud noises outside, she heard the lugubrious groan- 
 ing of a human voice which increased her terror. 
 A flash of light from the top of the staircase made 
 her fear that her hiding-place was known to her 
 persecutors, and she summoned fresh strength to 
 escape them. It was very difficult for her to under- 
 stand, a few moments later when she had collected 
 her ideas, by what means she had succeeded in 
 climbing the low wall where she was hiding. Indeed 
 she did not at first notice the extremely cramped 
 position in which she was resting ; but it became 
 unendurable at last, for she was bent double under 
 one end of an arch, like the crouching Venus placed 
 in a niche that was too narrow for it. The wall, 
 which was of granite and quite thick, separated the 
 passage leading to the stairway from the cave from 
 which the groans came. She soon saw an unknown
 
 THE CHOUANS 283 
 
 man enveloped in goatskins, descending below her 
 and turning in under the arch, with nothing in his 
 movements to denote a hasty search. Impatient to 
 ascertain whether there was any hope of escape for 
 her, Mademoiselle de Verneuil waited anxiously for 
 the light carried by the stranger to light up the 
 cavern, where she could see a shapeless but animate 
 mass lying on the ground, struggling to reach a 
 certain part of the wall with violent, frequently re- 
 peated movements like the contortions of a carp 
 lying on the shore. 
 
 A small torch of resinous pine soon cast its dim, 
 bluish light around the cave. Notwithstanding the 
 sombre poesy with which Mademoiselle de Verneuil's 
 imagination endowed those dark arches, which 
 echoed the words of a piteous prayer, she was 
 obliged to admit to herself that she was in a long- 
 disused underground kitchen. In the light the 
 shapeless mass became a short, very stout man, all 
 of whose limbs had been carefully bound, but who 
 seemed to have been left upon the damp flags with- 
 out any sort of care on the part of those who had 
 taken possession of him. At the sight of the 
 stranger holding a torch in one hand and a bunch 
 of sticks in the other, the prisoner uttered a deep 
 groan which attacked Mademoiselle de Verneuil's 
 sensibilities so keenly that she forgot her own 
 terror, her despair, the horribly cramped position of 
 all her limbs which were quite numb ; and she tried 
 to keep perfectly still. The Chouan threw his 
 bundle of sticks into the fireplace, after assuring
 
 284 THE CHOUANS 
 
 himself of the solidity of an old crane that was fas- 
 tened to a large iron plate, and set fire to the wood 
 with his torch. Not without renewed terror did 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil then recognize the crafty 
 Pille-Miche, to whom her rival had abandoned her, 
 and whose face, lighted up by the flame, resembled 
 the little men grotesquely carved from boxwood that 
 we see in Germany. The groans uttered by his 
 prisoner caused those wrinkled sunburned features 
 to expand in a broad smile. 
 
 "You see," he said to the victim, " we Chris- 
 tians don't break our word like you. This fire will 
 start the blood in your legs and hands and tongue. 
 Qiiien! qtiien! 1 don't see any dripping-pan to put 
 under your feet ; they're so fat, the grease may put 
 out the fire. This house of yours is very badly 
 supplied, not to have everything the master needs 
 to make him comfortable when he's warming him- 
 self, eh ?" 
 
 The victim uttered a piercing shriek as if he had 
 hoped to make himself heard outside the cave and 
 summon a rescuer. 
 
 " Oh ! you can sing away, Monsieur d'Orgemont ! 
 they're all abed up there and Marche-a-Terre is just 
 behind me, he'll shut the door of the cellar." 
 
 As he spoke, Pille-Miche sounded with the end of 
 his gun-barrel the mantel-piece, the flag stones with 
 which the kitchen was paved, the walls and the 
 oven, trying to discover the hiding-place in which 
 the miser kept his gold. The search was conducted 
 so skilfully that D'Orgemont held his peace, as if he
 
 THE CHOUANS 285 
 
 feared to be betrayed by some frightened servant ; 
 for, although he trusted no one, his habits might 
 well have formed a basis for accurate deductions. 
 From time to time Pille-Miche turned sharply around 
 and looked at his victim, as in the game in which 
 children try to guess from the artless expression of 
 the one who has hidden a certain object, whether 
 they are approaching it or moving away from it. 
 D'Orgemont feigned alarm when he saw the Chouan 
 striking the ovens, which gave back a hollow sound, 
 and seemed disposed to play thus upon the greedy 
 credulity of Pille-Miche for some time. At that mo- 
 ment three other Chouans came hurriedly down the 
 stairs and into the kitchen. At sight of Marche-a- 
 Terre, Pille-Miche discontinued his search, bestow- 
 ing upon D'Orgemont a glance instinct with the 
 ferocity aroused by his thwarted avarice. 
 
 "Marie Lambrequin has come to life again!" 
 said Marche-a-Terre, maintaining an attitude that 
 indicated that all other matters of interest faded into 
 insignificance before such momentous news as that. 
 
 "That don't surprise me," rejoined Pille-Miche, 
 "he went to communion so often! the good God 
 seemed to belong to him ! " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " laughed Mene-a-Bien, " that did him 
 as much good as shoes do a dead man. You see he 
 didn't receive absolution before that affair on La 
 Pelerine ; he slandered Goguelu's daughter and had 
 a mortal sin to answer for. Then Abbe Gudin says 
 like this, that he'll be a ghost two months before he 
 comes back altogether ! We saw him pass in front
 
 286 THE CHOUANS 
 
 of us ; he's pale and cold and light-footed, and he 
 smells of the cemetery." 
 
 " His Reverence says too that if the ghost could 
 get hold of someone, he'd make him his comrade," 
 added the fourth Chouan. 
 
 The grotesque appearance of the last speaker 
 aroused Marche-a-Terre from the religious reverie 
 in which he had been plunged by the performance 
 of a miracle, which miracle, according to Abbe 
 Gudin, fervid piety might cause to be repeated in 
 the case of every devout defender of the religion 
 and the king. 
 
 "You see, Galope-Chopine," he said to the 
 neophyte, with much gravity, " what the slightest 
 neglect of the duties enjoined by our holy religion 
 brings us to. Sainte Anne d'Auray tells us to have 
 no pity for each other for the smallest sins. Your 
 cousin Pille-Miche has asked for the surveillance of 
 Fougeres for you, the Gars agrees to entrust it to 
 you, and you will be well paid ; but you know what 
 flour we use to make cakes for traitors .■' " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur Marche-a-Terre." 
 
 "You know why I say this to you, eh .? Some 
 people say that you love cider and big sous ; but 
 this isn't the time to skin flints, you must belong to 
 us and to no one else." 
 
 " Saving your presence. Monsieur Marche-a-Terre, 
 cider and sous be two things that don't prevent 
 salvation." 
 
 " If my cousin does anything foolish," said Pille- 
 Miche, " it will be from ignorance."
 
 THE CHOUANS 287 
 
 " If anything goes wrong, no matter how," cried 
 Marche-a-Terre in a voice that made the arches 
 ring, " I shan't miss him. — You must answer to me 
 for him," he added, turning to Pille-Miche, "for if 
 he breatcs faith with us, I'll take something from 
 him to line your goatskin with." 
 
 " But, with all respect, Monsieur Marche-a- 
 Terre," rejoined Galope-Chopine, "haven't you 
 often thought the contre-chuins were chuins ? " 
 
 "My friend," retorted Marche-a-Terre drily, 
 " don't let that happen to you again, or I'll cut you 
 in two like a turnip. As for the Gars's messengers, 
 they will have his glove. But, since the affair of 
 La Vivetiere, the grande garce fastens a green ribbon 
 to it." 
 
 Pille-Miche hastily touched his companion's elbow 
 and pointed to D'Orgemont, who pretended to be 
 asleep ; but Marche-a-Terre and Pille-Miche knew 
 by experience that no one had ever slept in their 
 chimney-corner ; and although the last words ad- 
 dressed to Galope-Chopine were spoken in a low 
 tone, as they might have been overheard by the 
 captive, the four Chouans all looked at him for a 
 moment, thinking doubtless that fear had deprived 
 him of the use of his senses. Suddenly, at a slight 
 sign from Marche-a-Terre, Pille-Miche removed 
 D'Orgemont's shoes and stockings, and Mene-a- 
 Bien and Galope-Chopine seized him under the 
 arms and carried him to the fire ; then Marche-a- 
 Terre took one of the cords with which the bundle 
 of sticks was tied and fastened the miser's feet to
 
 288 THE CHOUANS 
 
 the crane. The frightful celerity with which these 
 movements were carried out, as well as their nature, 
 caused the victim to utter shrieks that became heart- 
 rending when Pille-Miche raked the coals together 
 under his legs. 
 
 " My friends, my good friends," cried D'Orge- 
 mont, " you are going to make me suffer terribly ! 
 I'm a Christian like you — " 
 
 "You lie in your throat," retorted Marche-a- 
 Terre. "Your brother denied God. As for you, 
 you bought the Abbey of Juvigny. Abbe Gudin 
 says we can roast apostates without scruple." 
 
 " But, my brothers in God, 1 don't refuse to pay 
 you," 
 
 ' ' We gave you a fortnight, two months have passed 
 and Galope-Chopine here hasn't received a sou." 
 
 " Haven't you received anything, Galope-Cho- 
 pine.-* " asked the miser in despair. 
 
 " Nothing, Monsieur D'Orgemont ! " replied Ga- 
 lope-Chopine, alarmed at the question. 
 
 The shrieks, which had become a continuous wail 
 like the rattle in a dying man's throat, recommenced 
 with incredible violence. The four Chouans, who 
 were as well used to this spectacle as to seeing their 
 dogs walk without shoes, looked on so coldly as 
 D'Orgemont writhed and howled, that they resem- 
 bled travellers waiting in front of the fire at an inn, 
 until the joint should be roasted sufficiently to be 
 eaten. 
 
 " I am dying ! 1 am dying ! " cried the victim — 
 *' and you won't have my money."
 
 THE CHOUANS 289 
 
 Despite the vehemence of his outcries, Pille-Miche 
 saw that the fire had not yet scorched the skin ; 
 whereupon he stirred up the coals most artistically 
 so as to produce a gentle flame. At that, D'Orge- 
 mont said in a hollow voice : 
 
 " Unbind me, my friends. — What do you want ? 
 a hundred crowns, a thousand crowns, ten thousand, 
 a hundred thousand ? I'll give you two hundred 
 crowns." 
 
 His voice was so pitiful that Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil forgot her own danger and allowed an exclama- 
 tion to escape her. 
 
 " Who spoke ? " demanded Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 The Chouans glanced about them in terror. 
 Brave as they were before the deadly cannon's 
 mouth, those men would not stand before a ghost. 
 Pille-Miche alone listened attentively to the admis- 
 sions that increasing pain extorted from his victim. 
 
 " Five hundred crowns — yes, I'll give that," said 
 the miser. 
 
 "Bah! where are they?" replied Pille-Miche 
 calmly. 
 
 "Where? they're under the first apple-tree — 
 Holy Virgin ! — at the foot of the garden, to the left — 
 You are brigands — thieves — Ah ! I am dying — There 
 are ten thousand francs there." 
 
 " I don't want your francs," said Marche-a-Terre, 
 " I must have livres. The crowns of your Republic 
 have pagan figures on them that will never pass 
 current." 
 
 " The money's in livres, in good louis d'or. But 
 19
 
 290 THE CHOUANS 
 
 unbind me, unbind me. — You know now where my 
 life is — my treasure ! " 
 
 The four Chouans looked from one to another as 
 if considering which one of themselves they could 
 trust to send to disinter the treasure. At that mo- 
 ment their cannibal-like cruelty stirred Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil to such a pitch of horror, that, without 
 knowing whether the role her pale face had assigned 
 her would still preserve her from danger, she cried 
 out courageously in a solemn voice : 
 
 " Do you not fear the wrath of God ? Unbind 
 him, savages ! " 
 
 The Chouans raised their heads, saw two eyes 
 shining like stars in the darkness, and fled in dis- 
 may. Mademoiselle de Verneuil jumped down into 
 the kitchen, ran to D'Orgemont and pulled him 
 away from the fire with such force that the withes 
 broke ; then she cut with her dagger the cords that 
 bound him. When the miser was free and on his 
 feet, the first expression that his face assumed was 
 a mournful but sardonic smile. 
 
 "Go on, go to the apple tree, brigands!" he 
 said. "Aha! this makes twice that I have fooled 
 them and they won't catch me a third time ! " 
 
 A moment later a woman's voice was heard out- 
 side the cave. 
 
 "A ghost! a ghost!" cried Madame du Gua ; 
 "you fools, it is she! A thousand crowns to the 
 man that brings me that strumpet's head ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil turned pale ; but the 
 miser smiled, took her by the hand, led her into the
 
 THE CHOUANS 291 
 
 fireplace, taking care not to disturb the fire — which 
 occupied but a small space — in order to leave no 
 trace of their passage ; he pressed a spring, the iron 
 plate moved aside, and when their common enemies 
 entered the cave, the heavy door of the hiding-place 
 had already returned noiselessly to its place. There- 
 upon the Parisian understood the meaning of the 
 carp-like motions she had noticed on the part of the 
 unfortunate banker. 
 
 "You see, madame," cried Marche-a-Terre, "the 
 ghost has taken the Blue away with him." 
 
 The terror of the Chouans must have been great, 
 for those words were followed by such profound 
 silence that D'Orgemont and his companion could 
 hear them muttering : 
 
 " Ave, Sancta Anna Auriaca, gratia plena, Domimis 
 tecum," etc. 
 
 "They're praying, the idiots!" cried D'Orge- 
 mont. 
 
 "Aren't you afraid," said Marie, interrupting 
 him, " of their discovering our — ? " 
 
 A hearty laugh from the old miser dissipated the 
 young Parisian's fears. 
 
 " The plate is set in a block of granite ten inches 
 thick. We hear them and they don't hear us." 
 
 He gently took his rescuer's hand, and led her to 
 a crack from which issued puffs of fresh air, and she 
 understood that the opening had been made in the 
 flue of the chimney. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " laughed D'Orgemont. " The devil ! 
 my legs are smarting somewhat 1 Charette's Mare,
 
 292 THE CHOUANS 
 
 as they call her at Nantes, isn't fool enough to con- 
 tradict her faithful followers ; she knows well enough 
 that if they weren't such ignorant brutes, they 
 wouldn't fight against their own interests. There, 
 she's praying too. She must be a pleasant sight 
 saying her Ave to Sainte Anne d'Auray ! She'd do 
 better to rob some diligence to pay the four thousand 
 francs she owes me. With interest and costs it 
 amounts to four thousand seven hundred and eighty 
 francs and some centimes." 
 
 The prayer concluded, the Chouans rose and 
 went away. Old D'Orgemont pressed Mademoi- 
 selle de Verneuil's hand as if to warn her that they 
 were not yet out of danger. 
 
 " No, madame," cried Pille-Miche, after a few 
 moments of silence, " you might stay here ten years 
 and they wouldn't come back." 
 
 " But she hasn't gone out, she must be here ! " 
 persisted Charette's Mare. 
 
 " No, madame, no, they flew away through the 
 walls. Hasn't the devil already carried off one of 
 our sworn brothers before our very eyes ? " 
 
 " What, Pille-Miche, can't you, who are as great 
 a miser as he, see that the old crab must have spent 
 a few thousand francs building a hiding-place with 
 a secret entrance somewhere in the foundations of 
 this old crypt ? " 
 
 The miser and the young woman heard Pille- 
 Miche utter a hoarse laugh. 
 
 " Indeed ! " he said. 
 
 " Stay here," continued Madame du Gua. " Wait
 
 THE CHOUANS 293 
 
 for them at the entrance. For a single shot from 
 your gun, I will give you all you find in our usurer's 
 strong-box. If you want me to forgive you for sell- 
 ing that girl when I told you to kill her, obey me." 
 
 " Usurer ! " said old D'Orgemont, " why, I only 
 charged her nine per cent. To be sure I have a 
 mortgage ! But still you see how grateful she is ! 
 I tell you, madame, if God punishes us for doing 
 evil, the devil is on hand to punish us for doing 
 right ; and the man who is placed between those 
 alternatives, without knowing anything of the future, 
 always makes me think of a rule of three in which 
 the X can't be found." 
 
 He emitted a hollow sigh of a sort peculiar to him- 
 self, in which it seemed as if the air, passing through 
 his larynx, came in contact with and attacked two 
 old slack chords. The noise made by Pille-IWiche 
 and Madame du Gua in sounding the walls and 
 arches and flagstones again, seemed to reassure 
 D'Orgemont, who took his rescuer's hand to assist 
 her to ascend a narrow spiral staircase cut in a 
 granite wall. After they had climbed about twenty 
 stairs, the light of a lamp shone dimly upon their 
 faces. The miser stopped, turned to his companion, 
 examined her face, as he would have scrutinized a 
 suspicious note of hand offered for discount, and 
 uttered his terrible sigh. 
 
 " By bringing you here," he said after a brief 
 silence, " I have paid you in full for the service you 
 rendered me ; therefore I don't see why I should 
 give you — "
 
 294 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Leave me here, monsieur, I ask nothing of you," 
 she said. 
 
 These last words, and, it may be, the disdain de- 
 picted on that lovely face, seemed to reassure the 
 little old fellow, for he replied with another sigh : 
 
 " Oh ! having brought you here, I have done too 
 much not to go on." 
 
 He courteously assisted Marie to ascend a few 
 more steps of strange construction, and introduced 
 her, half amiably, half sullenly, into a small cabinet 
 about four feet square, lighted by a lamp that hung 
 from the ceiling. It was easy to see that the miser 
 had made all his arrangements for passing more 
 than one day in that retreat, if the incidents of 
 the civil war should require him to remain there 
 longer. 
 
 " Don't go near the wall, you will get your 
 clothes all white," said D'Orgemont suddenly. 
 
 And he hurriedly placed his hand between the 
 young girl's shawl and the wall, which seemed to 
 have been freshly plastered. The old miser's gesture 
 produced an entirely contrary effect to that which he 
 expected. Mademoiselle de Verneuil suddenly looked 
 straight before her and saw in a corner a structure 
 that drew from her a cry of alarm, for she divined 
 that a human being had been encased in mortar and 
 placed therein in a standing position ; D'Orgemont 
 frantically motioned to her to be silent and his little 
 china-blue eyes exhibited as much terror as his com- 
 panion's. 
 
 " Fool ! Do you suppose I murdered him ? It was
 
 THE CHOUANS 295 
 
 my brother," he said, varying his sigh in a lugubrious 
 way. "He was the first priest to take the oath. 
 This was the only spot where he was safe against 
 the fury of the Chouans and the other priests. The 
 idea of persecuting a worthy man of such well- 
 ordered life ! He was my older brother, nobody else 
 had the patience to teach me the calculus. Oh ! he 
 was a good priest ! He was an economical creature 
 and knew how to save. It's four years since he 
 died, I don't know of what disease ; but these priests 
 have a habit of kneeling from time to time to pray, 
 and perhaps he couldn't accustom himself to stand- 
 ing here all the time like me. I put him there ; 
 anywhere else, they would have dug him up. Some 
 day I may be able to bury him in holy ground, as 
 the poor man said, who only took the oath through 
 fear." 
 
 A tear stood in the little old man's dry eyes, and 
 his red wig seemed less ugly to the young woman, 
 who turned her eyes away, secretly respecting his 
 grief; but, despite this moving scene, D'Orgemont 
 said to her again : 
 
 " Don't go near the wall, you — " 
 
 And he did not take his eyes from Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil's, hoping thus to prevent her from 
 scrutinizing too closely the walls of the cabinet, 
 where the too rarefied air was not sufficient to fill 
 the lungs. However, Marie succeeded in concealing 
 one glance from her Argus, and the strange protu- 
 berances in the walls led her to think that the miser 
 had built them himself with bags of silver or of gold.
 
 296 THE CHOUANS 
 
 For a few moments past, D'Orgemont had been in 
 a state of grotesque and blissful bewilderment. The 
 pain caused by the scorching of his legs and his ter- 
 ror at the thought of a human being standing among 
 his treasures, could be read in every one of his 
 wrinkles, but at the same time there was an unac- 
 customed fire in his dull eyes, expressive of the 
 generous emotion aroused within him by the perilous 
 proximity of his rescuer, whose pink and white 
 cheeks attracted the lips, whose dark, velvety eyes 
 sent the blood rushing to his heart in such hot waves 
 that he could not tell whether they signified life or 
 death. 
 
 " Are you married ? " he asked in a trembling 
 voice. 
 
 " No," she replied with a smile. 
 
 "I have a little something," he continued, with 
 his peculiar sigh, " although I am not so rich as they 
 all say. A girl like you must like diamonds, jewels, 
 fine carriages, money," he added, looking around 
 him with a frightened air. " I have all those to give 
 you, after my death. And if you would — " 
 
 The old man's eye betrayed such shrewd schem- 
 ing, even in this ephemeral passion, that Mademoi- 
 selle de Verneuil, as she shook her head negatively, 
 could not avoid the thought that the miser's only 
 idea in marrying her was to bury his secret in the 
 heart of another himself. 
 
 "Money!" she said with an ironical glance at 
 D'Orgemont that made him happy and vexed him 
 at the same time, " money has no charms for me.
 
 THE CHOUANS 297 
 
 You would be three times richer than you are, if all 
 the gold I have refused were here." 
 
 " Don't go near the wa — " 
 
 " And yet they never asked me for anything more 
 than a look," she added with indescribable pride. 
 
 " You did wrong, it would have been an excellent 
 speculation. But consider." 
 
 "Consider," interrupted Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil, " that I have just heard a voice whose lightest 
 word has more value for me than all your wealth." 
 
 " You don't know how great it is — " 
 
 Before the miser could prevent her, Marie, by 
 touching with her fmger a small colored engraving 
 of Louis XV. on horseback, caused it to move aside, 
 and suddenly saw, in a room below, the marquis 
 engaged in loading a blunderbuss. The opening 
 concealed by the small panel over which the engrav- 
 ing was fastened, seemed to correspond with some 
 ornament in the ceiling of the lower room, which was 
 in all probability the royalist general's sleeping-room. 
 D'Orgemont replaced the old engraving with the 
 greatest precaution and looked at the young woman 
 with a stern expression. 
 
 " Don't say a word if you love your life! You 
 haven't thrown your grappling irons aboard a small 
 skiff," he whispered in her ear after a pause. 
 " Do you know that the Marquis de Montauran has 
 a hundred thousand francs a year in leased real 
 estate which hasn't yet been sold ? Now there's a 
 decree of the consuls, that I read in the Primidi de 
 I'llle-et-Vilaine, putting a stop to sequestrations.
 
 298 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Ha ! ha ! you think him a prettier fellow now, don't 
 you ? Your eyes shine like two new louis d'or." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil's eyes had in truth be- 
 come exceedingly animated when she heard the 
 tones of a well-known voice. Since she had been 
 standing there, buried in a silver mine, as it were, 
 the springs of her mind, which had bent under the 
 strain of recent events, renewed their elasticity. 
 She seemed to have taken a fateful resolution and 
 to have an inkling of the means of carrying it 
 out. 
 
 " A man doesn't recover from such contempt as 
 he has for me," she said to herself, " and if he is 
 not to love me any more, I propose to kill him. No 
 other woman shall have him." 
 
 " No, abbe, no ! " she heard the young general's 
 voice exclaim ; " it must be so." 
 
 "Monsieur le marquis," remonstrated Abbe Gu- 
 din proudly, " you will scandalize all Bretagne by 
 giving this ball at Saint- James. Preachers and not 
 dancers are the ones to arouse our villages. Supply 
 guns and not violins." 
 
 " You have wit enough, abbe, to understand that 
 I cannot ascertain definitely what 1 can undertake 
 with my partisans except by bringing them all to- 
 gether. A dinner-party seems to me to afford a more 
 favorable opportunity to examine their faces and 
 find out their intentions than all the espionage in the 
 world, and furthermore, I have a perfect horror of 
 espionage ; we will make them talk, glass in hand." 
 
 Marie started at his words, for she conceived the
 
 THE CHOUANS 299 
 
 idea of going to the ball and taking her revenge 
 there. 
 
 " Do you take me for an idiot with your sermon 
 on dancing ? " continued Montauran. "Wouldn't 
 you be glad to take part in a jig in order to procure 
 your rehabilitation under your new name of Fathers 
 of the Faith ? Don't you know that the Bretons go 
 from the mass to the dance ? Don't you know that 
 Messieurs Hyde de Neuville and D'Andigne had a 
 conference with the First Consul five days ago on 
 the subject of restoring Louis XVIII. ? If I am pre- 
 paring at this moment to risk such a rash coup, it is 
 for the sole purpose of adding the weight of our hob- 
 nailed shoes to those negotiations. Don't you know 
 that all the leaders of La Vendee, even Fontaine 
 himself, are talking of submission 1 Ah ! monsieur, 
 the princes have evidently been deceived as to the 
 condition of France. The devoted attachments of 
 which they were told so much are attachments to 
 rank and position. Although 1 have dipped my feet 
 in blood, abbe, 1 do not wish to plunge into it up to 
 the waist unless with a serious purpose. I devoted 
 my life to the king, not to four scatterbrains, to men 
 over head and ears in debt like Rifoel, to brigands, 
 to—" 
 
 "Say frankly, monsieur, to abbes who collect 
 tribute on the high-roads in order to carry on the 
 war ! " interposed Abbe Gudin. 
 
 " Why should I not say it ? " the marquis retorted 
 sharply. " I will say more, the heroic days of La 
 Vendee have gone by."
 
 300 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Monsieur le marquis, we shall find a way to per- 
 form miracles without you." 
 
 "Yes, miracles like this of Marie Lambrequin," 
 rejoined the marquis with a smile. " Come, abbe, 
 no offence ! I know that you risk your own life 
 and shoot a Blue as well as you say an oremiis. 
 With God's help I hope to have you take part, 
 with a mitre on your head, at the king's corona- 
 tion." 
 
 That last phrase evidently exerted a magic influ- 
 ence upon Abbe Gudin, for they heard the ringing 
 of a gun barrel, and he cried : 
 
 " I have fifty cartridges in my pockets, monsieur 
 le marquis, and my life belongs to the king ! " 
 
 " There's another of my debtors," said the miser 
 to Mademoiselle de Verneuil. " 1 don't refer to the 
 five or six hundred wretched crowns that he bor- 
 rowed of me, but to a blood debt, which, I trust, 
 will be repaid. The infernal Jesuit will never have 
 as much misfortune as I wish him ; he had sworn 
 my brother's death and raised the province against 
 him. Why ? because the poor fellow was afraid of 
 the new laws ! " 
 
 He put his ear to a certain spot in the wall of his 
 hiding-place. 
 
 " There are all those brigands going off," he said. 
 *' They're going to perform another miracle ! God 
 grant they don't try to bid me adieu as they did 
 the last time, by setting fire to my house ! " 
 
 After about half an hour, during which Mademoi- 
 selle de Verneuil and D'Orgemont looked at each
 
 THE CHOUANS 301 
 
 other as if they were looking at a picture, they 
 heard Galope-Chopine's hoarse, harsh voice. 
 
 " There's no more danger, Monsieur d'Orgemont," 
 he said. " But I have earned my thirty crowns this 
 time ! " 
 
 "My child," said the miser, "swear to close 
 your eyes." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil placed one hand over 
 her eyes ; but for greater security the old man blew 
 out the lamp, took his rescuer by the hand and as- 
 sisted her to take seven or eight steps along a nar- 
 row, winding passage ; after a moment or two, he 
 gently took her hand from her eyes and she found 
 herself in the room the Marquis de Montauran had 
 just left, which was the miser's private apartment. 
 
 "My dear child," said the old man, "you can 
 safely go. Don't look around you so. I suppose 
 you have no money ? See, here are ten crowns ; 
 there are some clipped ones, but they'll pass. 
 When you leave the garden you will find a path 
 leading to the town, or, as they say nowadays, to 
 the district. But the Chouans are at Fougeres, and 
 it is probable you may not be able to return there at 
 once, so you may need a safe asylum. Mark well 
 what I am going to say to you and take advantage 
 of it only in extreme danger. On the road leading 
 to the Nid-aux-Crocs through the Val de Gibarry, 
 you will see a farm where Tall Cibot, called Galope- 
 Chopine, lives ; go in and say to his wife : ' Good- 
 day, Becanieire! ' and Barbette will conceal you. If 
 Galope-Chopine discovers you, either he'll take you
 
 302 THE CHOUANS 
 
 for a ghost, if it's dark, or ten crowns will soften 
 him if it's daylight. Adieu ! our accounts are set- 
 tled. If you choose," he added, waving his hand 
 toward the fields that surrounded the house, "all 
 this shall be yours ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil bestowed a grateful 
 glance on the singular being and succeeded in extort- 
 ing from him a sigh in a succession of widely differ- 
 ent tones. 
 
 " Of course you will return my ten crowns — ob- 
 serve that I say nothing about interest — you can 
 place them to my credit with Maitre Patrat, the 
 notary at Foug^res, who, if you choose, will draw 
 our marriage contract, my treasure ? — Adieu." 
 
 " Adieu," said she, smiling and waving her hand 
 to him. 
 
 " If you need money," he cried, " I'll lend you 
 some at five per cent ! Yes, only five — Did 1 say 
 five .? " 
 
 She had gone. 
 
 "She looks to me like an honest girl," said 
 D'Orgemont to himself ; " however, I'll change the 
 secret opening in my fire-place." 
 
 Then he took a loaf of bread and a ham, and re- 
 turned to his hiding-place.
 
 When Mademoiselle de Verneuil walked forth 
 into the fields, she felt as if she were born again ; 
 the fresh morning air refreshed her cheeks which 
 felt as if they had been exposed to a scorching at- 
 mosphere for many hours. She tried to find the 
 path mentioned by the miser ; but since the moon 
 had set, the darkness had become so intense that 
 she was compelled to walk at random. Soon the 
 fear of falling over a precipice assailed her heart and 
 saved her life, for she stopped suddenly, having a 
 presentiment that she would find nothing under her 
 feet if she took another step. A cooler breeze 
 blowing through her hair, the murmur of running 
 water, and instinct, all combined to convince her 
 that she was on the edge of the Saint-Sulpice cliffs. 
 She put her arm about a tree and waited for the 
 dawn in the keenest anxiety, for she could hear the 
 clash of weapons, the neighing of horses and men's 
 voices. She gave thanks to the darkness that pre- 
 served her from the danger of falling into the hands 
 of the Chouans, if, as the miser had told her, they 
 had surrounded Fougeres. 
 
 Like bonfires lighted at night as an emblem of lib- 
 erty, some gleams of light slightly tinged with purple 
 came over the mountains, whose bases retained a 
 
 (303)
 
 304 THE CHOUANS 
 
 bluish tinge in striking contrast to the pink clouds 
 floating over the valleys. Soon a ruby disk rose 
 slowly above the horizon and the sky recognized it ; 
 the rocky eminences, the spire of Saint-Leonard's, 
 the cliffs, the green fields buried in the shadow insen- 
 sibly reappeared, and the trees upon the mountain 
 tops were distinctly outlined in the growing light. 
 The sun with a graceful bound shook off its ribbons 
 of flame-color, ochre and sapphire. Its brilliant light 
 spread in level lines from hill to hill and overflowed 
 from valley to valley. The shadows vanished and 
 day vanquished nature. A sharp breeze shivered in 
 the air, the birds sang and everything awoke to 
 renewed life. But the girl had hardly time to look 
 down upon the details of the interesting landscape, 
 when, by a not infrequent phenomenon in those 
 well-watered regions, the mist arose in level sheets, 
 filled the valleys, rose to the tops of the highest 
 hills, buried that fertile basin beneath a snow-white 
 cloak. In a moment it seemed to her as if she were 
 looking at one of those seas of ice so plentiful in the 
 Alps. Then the cloud-laden atmosphere began to 
 move in waves like the ocean, impenetrable billows 
 arose, swayed with a gentle, soothing motion or 
 rushed violently to and fro, assuming in the sun's 
 rays a bright pink color, and here and there as trans- 
 parent as a lake of liquid silver. Suddenly the 
 north wind blew upon this phantasmagoria and 
 scattered the mists, which left a refreshing dew 
 upon the greensward. 
 
 Thereupon Mademoiselle de Verneuil espied an im-
 
 THE CHOUANS 305 
 
 mense brown mass on the rock of Fougeres. Seven 
 or eight hundred Chouans under arms were moving 
 about in Faubourg Saint-Sulpice like ants on an ant- 
 hill. The neighborhood of the chateau, occupied 
 by three thousand men who had arrived as if by 
 magic, was attacked with great fury. The sleeping 
 town would have succumbed despite its green earth- 
 works and old gray towers, had not Hulot been wide 
 awake. A masked battery on an eminence in the 
 centre of the basin formed by the ramparts, answered 
 the first fire of the Chouans, raking them with a 
 slanting fire on the road to the chateau. The road 
 was swept clean by the grape. Then a company 
 marched out through Porte Saint-Sulpice, made 
 the most of the surprise of the Chouans, drew 
 up in battle order on the road, and opened a mur- 
 derous fire on them. The Chouans did not try to 
 resist when they saw that the ramparts of the 
 chateau were covered with soldiers as if an expert 
 in the engineering art had drawn blue lines thereon, 
 and that the Republican sharpshooters were pro- 
 tected by the fire of the fortress. 
 
 Meanwhile, however, another party of Chouans, 
 having made themselves masters of the little valley 
 of Nanfon, had climbed from gallery to gallery up 
 the face of the cliff and reached the Promenade ; in 
 an instant it was covered with goatskins, which gave 
 it the appearance of a thatched roof darkened by 
 lapse of years. At the same moment, loud reports 
 were heard in that part of the town that overlooks 
 
 the valley of the Couesnon. Evidently Fougeres, 
 20
 
 306 THE CHOUANS 
 
 being attacked on all sides, was entirely surrounded. 
 The tlames that broke out on the eastern side of the 
 cliff showed that the Chouans were setting fire to 
 the faubourgs. But the fire was soon extinguished 
 on the roofs covered with thorn-broom or shingle, 
 and some few columns of black smoke alone bore 
 witness to it. Brown and white clouds once more 
 shut out the scene from Mademoiselle de Verneuil's 
 eyes, but the wind soon scattered the powdery haze. 
 Already the Republican commandant had changed 
 the direction of his battery so as to rake in turn the 
 valley of the Nan^on, the Queen's Stairway and 
 the cliff, and from the height above the Promenade, 
 he saw that his orders were v/onderfully well exe- 
 cuted. Two pieces stationed at Porte Saint-Leonard 
 made havoc in the swarm of Chouans who had 
 seized upon that position, while the National Guard 
 of Foug^res, marching in haste to the church square, 
 completed the rout of the enemy. The battle lasted 
 only half an hour and the Blues lost less than a 
 hundred men. The Chouans, beaten and dispersed, 
 were already retiring on all sides, in obedience to 
 the repeated commands of the Gars, whose bold 
 coup de main had failed, although he did not know 
 it, as a result of the affair at La Vivetiere, which 
 had brought Hulot to Foug^res so quickly and 
 secretly. The artillery had only arrived during the 
 night ; for a mere hint of its proximity would have 
 been enough to cause Montauran to abandon the 
 undertaking which, if it were known beforehand, 
 could not fail to end disastrously.
 
 THE CHOUANS 307 
 
 Hulot was as anxious to give the Gars a stern 
 lesson as the Gars could have been to succeed in 
 his enterprise, in order to influence the First Con- 
 sul's determination. At the first cannon-shot there- 
 fore, the marquis realized that it would be sheer 
 madness to go on, for the gratification of his self- 
 esteem, with a surprise that was no surprise. And 
 so, in order not to cause a useless slaughter of 
 Chouans, he made haste to send seven or eight 
 messengers with instructions to retreat at once 
 all along the line. The commandant, having espied 
 his opponent surrounded by a numerous circle of 
 advisers, among whom was Madame du Gua, tried 
 to send them a broadside where they stood on the 
 cliffs of Saint-Sulpice ; but their position had been 
 so shrewdly selected that the young leader was 
 quite out of danger. Hulot changed his role and 
 assumed the offensive instead of the defensive. At 
 the first indications of the marquis's intentions, the 
 company stationed under the walls of the chateau 
 set out to cut off the retreat of the Chouans by 
 taking possession of the upper exits from the valley 
 of Nangon. 
 
 Despite her hatred. Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 espoused the cause of the men her lover commanded, 
 and she turned quickly toward the other end of the 
 valley to see if it were free ; but she saw a detach- 
 ment of Blues, who had doubtless beaten off the 
 assailants on the other side of the town, returning 
 from the valley of Couesnon, through the Val de 
 Gibarry, to take possession of the Nid-anx-Crocs
 
 308 THE CHOUANS 
 
 and that portion of the cliffs of Saint-Sulpice that 
 dominated the lower exits from the valley of Nan- 
 con. Thus the Chouans, confined in the narrow, 
 level tract at the bottom of that gorge, seemed 
 fated to die to the last man, so accurate were the 
 old Republican's calculations and his measures so 
 skilfully taken. But the cannon that had served 
 Hulot so well could not be brought to bear on those 
 two points and a desperate struggle ensued ; the 
 town of Foug^res being saved, the affair degenerated 
 into one of those engagements to which the Chouans 
 were accustomed. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil then understood the 
 presence of the large bodies of men she had seen in 
 the fields, the gathering of the chiefs at D'Orge- 
 mont's, and all the events of the night, but she 
 could not understand how she had come safely 
 through so many perils. This rash enterprise, dic- 
 tated by despair, interested her so keenly that she 
 stood motionless, gazing at the animated pictures 
 presented to her eyes. Soon the battle that was in 
 progress at the foot of the mountains of Saint-Sulpice, 
 assumed fresh interest to her. When they saw that 
 the Blues were almost victorious over the Chouans, 
 the marquis and his friends hurried down into the 
 valley of Nanfon to bear aid to them. The ground 
 at the foot of the cliffs was covered with a multitude 
 of furious groups, who were deciding questions of 
 life and death upon soil and with weapons that gave 
 the goatskins the advantage. The shifting arena 
 insensibly broadened in extent. The Chouans,
 
 THE CHOUANS 309 
 
 spreading out, climbed up the cliffs with the aid of 
 the shrubs that grew here and there. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil was alarmed for a mo- 
 ment when, a little later, she saw her enemies once 
 more upon the summit, where they defended with 
 fierce vigor the dangerous paths which led thither. 
 All the paths from the mountain being held by one 
 or the other of the two forces, she was afraid of 
 finding herself between them, so she left the great 
 tree behind which she had taken shelter, and began 
 to run, thinking that she would profit by the old 
 miser's advice. After she had run for some time 
 along that slope of the mountains of Saint-Sulpice 
 that overlooks the broad valley of Couesnon, she 
 saw a stable in the distance and concluded that it 
 was an appendage of the residence of Galope-Cho- 
 pine, who must have left his wife all alone during 
 the battle. Encouraged by this conjecture. Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil hoped to be well received at 
 the house in question and to be able to pass a few 
 hours there until it should be possible for her to 
 return without danger to Fougeres. Judging from 
 all appearances, Hulot would be victorious. The 
 Chouans were flying so rapidly that she heard re- 
 ports all about her, and the fear of being struck by 
 a bullet lent her wings to reach the cottage whose 
 chimney served her as a landmark. The path she 
 had been following led to a sort of shed, the roof of 
 which, covered with broom, was supported by four 
 large trees with the bark still on. A mud wall 
 formed the rear of the shed, under which were a
 
 310 THE CHOUANS 
 
 cider-press, a threshing-floor for buckwheat and 
 divers farming tools. She leaned against one of the 
 posts, hesitating to cross the expanse of mire that 
 formed the yard of the house, which she, like a true 
 Parisian, had taken for a stable, at a distance. 
 
 This hovel, sheltered from the north wind by a 
 high bank which rose above the roof and against 
 which the structure was built, did not lack elements 
 of poesy, for some elm shoots, heather and cliff 
 flowers crowned it with their garlands. A rustic 
 staircase between the shed and the house enabled 
 the occupants to go for a breath of fresh air to the 
 top of the bank. To the left of the house the bank 
 suddenly lowered, and disclosed a succession of 
 fields, the first of which, doubtless, belonged to the 
 farm. These fields were like lovely bowers, sepa- 
 rated by banks of earth, thickly planted with trees, 
 and the first of them bounded the farmyard on 
 the fourth side. The road leading to the fields was 
 blocked by a huge, half-rotten tree-trunk, a Breton 
 method of closing roads, the name of which will be 
 the subject hereafter of a digression that will put 
 the finishing touch to the description of the province. 
 Between the staircase cut in the slate and the path 
 blocked by the great tree, facing the yard and under 
 the hanging rock, some rough-hewn blocks of granite, 
 placed one upon another, formed the four corners of 
 the house and supported the wretched clay, the 
 boards and loose stones of which the walls were 
 built. The fact that half of the roof was covered 
 with thorn-broom in guise of thatch, and the other
 
 THE CHOUANS 311 
 
 half with shingles, a sort of staves cut in the shape 
 of slates, indicated that the house was divided into 
 two parts ; in fact one portion, with a broken-down 
 hurdle across the doorway, was used as a stable and 
 the masters occupied the other. 
 
 Although this hovel owed to its proximity to the 
 town some improvements that were entirely un- 
 known two leagues farther away, it was a striking 
 proof of the instability of the life in which constant 
 wars and feudal customs had so completely ground 
 down the morals of the serf, that to this day many 
 peasants in those regions still call the chateau oc- 
 cupied by their lord a demeure. At last, while ex- 
 amining her surroundings with an amazement easily 
 understood. Mademoiselle de Verneuil noticed here 
 and there, in the mud of the yard, fragments of 
 granite so arranged as to form a sort of causeway to 
 the house, — a causeway that presented more than 
 one source of danger, to be sure ; but when she 
 heard the sound of the musketry coming perceptibly 
 nearer, she leaped from stone to stone, as if she 
 were crossing a brook, to ask shelter. 
 
 The house had one of those doors which consist 
 of two separate parts, the lower being of solid wood, 
 and the upper protected by a shutter which, when 
 open, serves as a window. In some shops in certain 
 small towns in France we see such doors at that, 
 but much more ornate and provided with an alarm bell 
 connected with the lower portion ; the one in question 
 opened by means of a wooden latch worthy of the 
 age of gold, and the upper part was closed only
 
 312 THE CHOUANS 
 
 during the night, for no light reached the living-room 
 except through that opening. There was, to be sure, 
 a rough sort of window, but the panes were Hke the 
 bottoms of bottles, and the heavy bands of lead that 
 kept them in place took up so much room that it 
 seemed intended rather to intercept than to admit 
 the light. When Mademoiselle de Verneuil made 
 the door turn upon its shrieking hinges, she was 
 conscious of an intensely disagreeable alkaline vapor 
 coming out from the hut in great puffs, and she saw 
 that the beasts had demolished the partition wall by 
 kicking against it. Thus the interior of the farm- 
 house — for a farmhouse it was — did not belie the 
 exterior. Mademoiselle de Verneuil was asking 
 herself if it were possible that human beings could 
 live in such unmitigated filth, when a little urchin in 
 rags, apparently about eight or nine years of age, 
 suddenly presented his fresh pink and white face, 
 chubby cheeks, bright eyes, ivory teeth and a mass 
 of fair hair that fell in matted locks over his bare 
 shoulders ; he was a strong-limbed little fellow and 
 his attitude had that charming air of surprise, that 
 startled curiosity that makes children's eyes grow 
 larger. The little fellow was sublimely beautiful. 
 
 " Where is your mother? " said Marie in a gentle 
 voice, stooping to kiss his eyes. 
 
 After receiving the kiss, the child glided away 
 like an eel and disappeared behind a dungheap that 
 lay on the slope of the bank between the path and 
 the house. Like many Breton farmers, Galope- 
 Chopine, following a system of agriculture which is
 
 THE CHOUANS 313 
 
 peculiar to them, placed his fertilizer on high ground, 
 so that, by the time they are ready to use it, the 
 rains have deprived it of all its good qualities. 
 Being mistress of the house for a few moments, 
 Marie quickly made an inventory of its contents. 
 The room in which she awaited Barbette composed 
 the whole house. The most prominent and most 
 pretentious object was a huge fireplace, the mantel 
 of which was made of a slab of blue granite. The 
 etymology of this word was apparent in a piece of 
 green serge with a border of pale green ribbon and 
 rounded at the corners, hanging from the shelf, in 
 the centre of which stood a Blessed Virgin in colored 
 plaster. On the pedestal of the statue Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil read two lines of religious poetry very 
 common in that neighborhood : 
 
 Je suis la Mere de Dieu, 
 Protectrice de ce lieu. 
 
 Behind the Virgin a ghastly figure covered with 
 red and blue spots, as a pretext for painting, 
 represented Saint Labre. A bed, of the shape 
 known as tent-beds, covered with green serge, a 
 shapeless child's cradle, a spinning-wheel, rough 
 chairs, a carved chest in which were some cooking 
 utensils, formed the bulk of Galope-Chopine's fur- 
 niture. In front of the window was a long chestnut 
 table with two benches of the same wood, to which 
 the dim light through the panes gave the dark 
 color of old mahogany. An enormous cask of cider, 
 under the spigot of which Mademoiselle de Verneuil
 
 314 THE CHOUANS 
 
 noticed a yellowish mud which was decomposing 
 the floor, although it consisted of bits of granite laid 
 in red clay, proved that the master of the house had 
 not stolen his title of Chouan. Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil raised her eyes in search of some more 
 agreeable spectacle, and thereupon it seemed to her 
 as if she saw all the bats on earth, so innumerable 
 were the spiders' webs hanging from the ceiling. 
 Two enormous pickets full of cider stood on the long 
 table. The picket is a sort of jug of brown earthen- 
 ware, examples of which may be found in several 
 provinces of France ; a Parisian can form an idea of 
 them by imagining the jars in which epicures serve 
 Bretagne butter, with a more rounded body, var- 
 nished here and there and marked with yellow spots 
 like certain shells. The jug ends in a sort of beak 
 not unlike the head of a frog taking the air out of 
 water. Marie finally fixed her attention upon the 
 two pickets, but the sound of fighting suddenly be- 
 coming more distinct, forced her to seek a suitable 
 place in which to hide without awaiting Barbette, 
 when that lady suddenly appeared. 
 
 " Good-day, Becaniere," she said, restraining an 
 involuntary smile at the aspect of a face which 
 strongly resembled those that architects place as 
 ornaments over windows. 
 
 " Ah ! you come from D'Orgemont," replied Bar- 
 bette with little warmth. 
 
 "Where can you put me? for here come the 
 Chouans — " 
 
 " There !" said Barbette, as stupefied by the
 
 THE CHOUANS 315 
 
 beauty as by the strange garb of a creature whom 
 she did not dare include among those of her own 
 sex. " There ! in the priest's hiding-place." 
 
 She led her to the foot of her bed and into the pas- 
 sageway between the bed and the wail, but they 
 were thunderstruck when they heard what seemed 
 to be a man bounding through the mud in the yard. 
 Barbette had barely time to take a curtain from the 
 bed and wrap Marie in it, before she found herself 
 face to face with a fugitive Chouan. 
 
 " Where can I hide, old woman ? I am the Comte 
 de Bauvan." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil started as she recog- 
 nized the voice of the guest, whose whispered words, 
 the purport of which was unknown to her, had 
 caused the catastrophe of La Vivetiere. 
 
 "Alas! monseigneur, you see there's no chance 
 here ! The best thing I can do is to go outside and 
 watch. If the Blues come, I'll give you warning. 
 If I should stay here and they found me with you, 
 they'd burn my house down." 
 
 And Barbette went out, for she had not sufficient 
 intelligence to reconcile the interests of the two 
 enemies who were equally entitled to shelter by 
 virtue of the double role her husband was playing. 
 
 " I have two shots left," said the count in despair ; 
 "but they've already gone by. It would be very 
 hard luck for me if they should take a fancy to look 
 under the bed when they come back this way." 
 
 He noiselessly rested his gun against the bed post 
 near which Marie was standing, wrapped in the
 
 3l6 THE CHOUANS 
 
 green serge, and stooped to look under the bed and 
 make sure that he could hide there. He must in- 
 evitably have seen the other fugitive's feet, had not 
 she, at that critical moment, seized the musket, 
 jumped quickly out into the room and taken aim at 
 the count ; but he roared with laughter as he recog- 
 nized her ; for, to conceal herself more thoroughly, 
 Marie had laid aside her huge Chouan hat and her 
 hair was escaping in great bunches from under a 
 sort of lace net. 
 
 " Don't laugh, count, you are my prisoner. If 
 you move a finger, you will find out what an in- 
 sulted woman is capable of." 
 
 While Marie and the count were gazing at each 
 other with widely different emotions, they heard 
 voices crying confusedly among the cliffs : 
 
 "Save the Gars! scatter! Save the Gars! 
 spread out ! spread out ! " 
 
 Barbette's voice soared above the uproar without 
 and was heard in the hovel by the two enemies with 
 very different sensations, for she was speaking less 
 to her son than to them. 
 
 " Don't you see the Blues ? " she cried sharply. 
 " Come here, you bad boy, or I'll come to you ! 
 Do you want them to fire their guns at you ? 
 Come, run away quick ! " 
 
 While these trifling incidents, which succeeded 
 one another very rapidly, were in progress, a Blue 
 leaped into the yard. 
 
 " Beau-Pied ! " cried Mademoiselle de Verneuil. 
 
 Beau-Pied ran to the house at the sound of that
 
 THE CHOUANS 317 
 
 voice and took aim at the count a little more ac- 
 curately than his rescuer had done. 
 
 " Aristocrat," said the waggish soldier, " don't 
 stir or 1'!! demolish you like the Bastille, in double 
 quick time." 
 
 " Monsieur Beau-Pied," said Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil in a caressing tone, "you will be respon- 
 sible to me for this prisoner. Do what you please 
 with him, but you must turn him over to me, safe 
 and sound, at Fougeres." 
 
 " Very good, madame." 
 
 " Is the road to Fougeres safe now ? " 
 
 " It's safe unless the Chouans come to life again." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil gayly shouldered the 
 light fowling-piece, smiled ironically as she said to 
 her prisoner : " Adieu, Monsieur le comte, au re- 
 voir 1 " and darted out into the path after resuming 
 her broad-brimmed hat. 
 
 "1 learn a little too late," said the Comte de 
 Bauvan bitterly, "that one must never trifle with 
 the honor of women who have none." 
 
 "Aristocrat," cried Beau-Pied sternly, "if you 
 don't want me to send you to your ci-devant para- 
 dise, don't say a word against that lovely woman ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil returned to Fougeres 
 by the paths that connect the mountains of Saint- 
 Sulpice with the Nid-aux-Crocs. When she reached 
 that last named eminence and as she hurried along 
 the winding road formed by the protuberances of 
 the granite, she gazed in admiration at the pretty 
 little valley of the Nangon, a few moments since so
 
 3l8 THE CHOUANS 
 
 filled with uproar and confusion, now perfectly tran- 
 quil. Seen from that point the valley resembled a 
 street of verdure. Marie entered the town through 
 Porte Saint-Leonard at which the little path ended. 
 The inhabitants, still excited and anxious concerning 
 the battle which, judging from the distant firing, 
 seemed likely to last through the day, were await- 
 ing the return of the National Guard to ascertain 
 the extent of their losses. When they spied the 
 girl in her strange costume, her hair in disorder, a 
 gun in her hand, her shawl and dress soiled by rub- 
 bing against walls and by the mud, and wet with 
 dew, the curiosity of the Fougerais was the more 
 intense because the Parisian's power and beauty 
 and eccentricity were already the principal subjects 
 of conversation among them. 
 
 Francine, anxious beyond words, had sat up all 
 night waiting for her mistress ; and when she saw 
 her once more, she attempted to speak, but a good- 
 natured gesture imposed silence on her. 
 
 " I am not dead, my child," said Marie. " Ah ! 
 when I left Paris I longed for excitement — I have 
 had it ! " she added after a pause. 
 
 Francine was going to order breakfast, remarking 
 that her mistress must be sorely in need of food. 
 
 " Oh ! a bath, a bath ! " said Marie. " A change 
 of clothing first of all ! " 
 
 Francine was surprised beyond measure when her 
 mistress asked for the most modish garments she 
 had brought with her. After breakfast, Marie made 
 her toilet with the minute, painstaking care that a
 
 THE CHOUANS 319 
 
 woman expends upon that momentous operation 
 when she expects to appear before one who is dear 
 to her, in a ball-room. Francine could not under- 
 stand her mistress's mocking gayety. It was not 
 the joy of love — a woman never mistakes that ex- 
 pression — but it was concentrated mischief of evil 
 augury. Marie herself arranged the curtains at the 
 window from which a magnificent panorama was 
 presented to the eye ; then she went to the couch 
 by the hearth, placed it in a light favorable to her 
 face, and told Francine to procure some flowers in 
 order to give the apartment a festal appearance. 
 When Francine brought the flowers, Marie super- 
 intended their arrangement in the most picturesque 
 way. When she had cast one last glance of satis- 
 faction about the room, she bade Francine send to 
 the commandant and demand her prisoner. She 
 lay upon the couch in a voluptuous attitude, partly 
 to rest, partly to display that combination of charm 
 and weakness v/hich is irresistible in certain women. 
 A seductive languor, the alluring position of her feet, 
 the toes being barely visible beneath the folds of 
 her dress, the unconstrained pose of her body, the 
 curve of her neck, — everything, even to the slender 
 fingers of the hand that hung from her pillow like 
 the bell-shaped flowers of a cluster of jasmine, com- 
 bined with her glance to fascinate and charm. She 
 burned perfumes in order to fill the air with those 
 subtle odors that assail a man's fibres with such 
 force, and often pave the way for triumphs which 
 women seek to win without soliciting them. In a
 
 320 THE CHOUANS 
 
 few moments the old soldier's heavy step resounded 
 in the salon that adjoined her bedroom. 
 
 " Well, commandant, where's my prisoner ? " 
 
 " I have just given orders for a detail of twelve 
 men to shoot him as one taken with arms in his 
 hand." 
 
 " You have disposed of my prisoner ! " she ex- 
 claimed, " Look you, commandant ; the death of a 
 man, after the battle, can't give you any great satis- 
 faction, if I may judge by your face. Very well, 
 turn the Chouan over to me, and grant him a re- 
 prieve for which I will take the responsibility. I 
 give you my word that the aristocrat has become 
 very essential to me and will assist materially in 
 carrying out our plans. Furthermore, to shoot this 
 amateur in Chouannerie would be as absurd as to 
 fire on a balloon when only a pin prick is needed 
 to let the air out. For God's sake, leave acts of 
 cruelty to the aristocrats, Republics ought to be 
 generous. Wouldn't you have pardoned the victims 
 of Quiberon and very many others ? Come, send 
 your twelve men to do patrol duty and dine with me 
 and my prisoner. There's only an hour of daylight 
 left, and if you delay," she added with a smile, 
 " my toilet will fail of its effect, you see." 
 
 " But, mademoiselle — " said the commandant, in 
 surprise. 
 
 "Well, what is it? I understand you. Believe 
 me, the count shall not escape you. Sooner or later 
 the fat moth will come and burn his wings in the 
 fire of your detachment."
 
 THE CHOUANS 32 1 
 
 The commandant shrugged his shoulders slightly 
 like a man compelled to obey a pretty woman's 
 wishes whatever may happen, and half an hour 
 later he returned, accompanied by the Comte de 
 Bauvan. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil pretended to be sur- 
 prised by the arrival of her two guests and seemed 
 confused to have been seen by the count lying down 
 and in such a negligent attitude ; but, having read 
 in the nobleman's eyes that the first effect she 
 desired had been produced, she rose and devoted 
 herself to entertaining them with perfect grace and 
 courtesy. There was nothing studied or forced in 
 her attitudes, her smile, her bearing or her voice, 
 nothing to betray her premeditation or her designs. 
 Everything was in harmony with everything else, 
 and no too prominent detail afforded a reason for 
 thinking that she was affecting the manners of a 
 society in which she had not lived. When the 
 Royalist and the Republican were seated, she looked 
 at the count with a stern expression. That gentle- 
 man knew enough of women to know that the out- 
 rage he had inflicted upon the woman before him, 
 would be his death warrant. Despite that thought, 
 without being either gay or melancholy, he assumed 
 the air of a man who did not anticipate such a sud- 
 den close to his career. Soon it seemed to him that 
 it was absurd to be afraid of death in the presence 
 of a pretty woman. In fact, Marie's stern expres- 
 sion put ideas into his head. 
 
 "Eh! who knows," he thought, "whether a 
 21
 
 322 THE CHOUANS 
 
 count's coronet in hand won't please her better than 
 a marquis's coronet out of her reach ? Montauran 
 is as thin as a nail, and I — " 
 
 He glanced at his figure with a satisfied air. 
 
 " Now, the least I can do is to save my head." 
 
 These diplomatic reflections were quite thrown 
 away. The passion for Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 that the count determined to feign, became a violent 
 reality which that dangerous creature amused her- 
 self by feeding. 
 
 "Monsieur le comte," said she, "you are my 
 prisoner and I have a right to dispose of you as 1 
 please. Your execution will not take place without 
 my consent ; — now, 1 have too much curiosity about 
 you to allow you to be shot just yet." 
 
 "And suppose I should persist in holding my 
 tongue ? " he replied gayly. 
 
 "With a virtuous woman, perhaps, but with a 
 girl from the streets ! nonsense, monsieur, impos- 
 sible ! " 
 
 These words, overflowing with bitter sarcasm, 
 were hissed from such a sharp beak, as Sully says 
 speaking of the Duchesse de Beaufort, that the 
 astounded nobleman contented himself by looking 
 his pitiless antagonist in the face. 
 
 "Come," she continued mockingly, "in order 
 not to give you the lie, 1 propose to act like one of 
 those creatures, a bonne filk ! In the first place, 
 here's your gun." 
 
 And she handed him the weapon with a gently 
 ironical gesture.
 
 THE CHOUANS 323 
 
 '* On my word as a gentleman, mademoiselle, you 
 
 act—" 
 
 "Ah!" she exclaimed, interrupting him, "I've 
 had enough of the word of a gentleman ! 1 entered 
 La Vivetiere on the word of a gentleman. Your 
 leader swore to me that I and my people should be 
 safe there." 
 
 " What an infamous thing ! " cried Huiot with a 
 
 frown. 
 
 " The fault was monsieur le comte's," she said 
 to Hulot, pointing to Bauvan. " Certainly the Gars 
 intended to keep his word ; but monsieur here cir- 
 culated some slanderous report or other about me 
 which confirmed ail that it had pleased Charette's 
 Mare to imagine — " 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said the count in confusion, " if 
 my head were under the axe, I would swear that I 
 said nothing but the truth — " 
 
 "Which was ? " 
 
 " That you had been the — " 
 
 " Say the word, the mistress — " 
 
 " Of the marquis, now Due de Lenoncourt, one 
 of my friends," replied the count. 
 
 " Now 1 might well allow you to go to your pun- 
 ishment," said Marie, apparently unmoved by the 
 charge conscientiously brought against her by the 
 count, who was stupefied by her real or pretended 
 indifference to the reproach. " But," she continued 
 with a laugh, " put aside forever the sinister picture 
 of those bits of lead, for you have not insulted me 
 more bitterly than that friend of yours of whom you
 
 324 THE CHOUANS 
 
 will have it that I was — for shame. — Tell me, mon- 
 sieur le comte, haven't you been at my fatlier's 
 house, the Due de Verneuil's ? Well ? " 
 
 Considering doubtless that Hulot was not a suit- 
 able recipient of so important a confidence as that 
 she had to make, Mademoiselle de Verneuil beckoned 
 the count to her side and whispered a few words in 
 his ear. Monsieur de Bauvan gave vent to an ex- 
 clamation of amazement, and gazed with a bewil- 
 dered air at Marie, who suddenly put the finishing 
 touch to the memory she had evoked by leaning 
 against the mantel in the innocent and artless atti- 
 tude of a child. The count bent his knee. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he cried, " I beg you to grant me 
 your forgiveness, however unworthy I may be to 
 receive it," 
 
 "1 have nothing to forgive," she said. "You 
 are no nearer the truth now in your repentance than 
 in your insolent supposition at La Vivetiere. But 
 these mysteries are above your intelligence. But 
 remember, monsieur le comte," she added gravely, 
 "that the Due de Verneuil's daughter has too 
 elevated a mind not to be deeply interested in you." 
 
 " Even after an insult.-^" said the count regret- 
 fully. 
 
 " Do not certain persons occupy too exalted a 
 position for slander to reach them ? I afn of that 
 number, monsieur le comte ! " 
 
 As she uttered the words, the girl assumed a 
 noble, haughty demeanor which made a deep im- 
 pression on the prisoner and rendered the whole
 
 THE CHOUANS 325 
 
 intrigue much less clear to Hulot. He put his hand 
 to his moustache as if to twist it and glanced un- 
 easily at Mademoiselle de Verneuil, who made a 
 sign of intelligence, as if to say that she was not 
 departing from her plan. 
 
 "Now," she continued after a pause, "let us 
 talk — Francine, bring lights, my girl." 
 
 She very cleverly led the conversation to the time 
 which had, in so few years, come to be known as 
 the old regime. She carried the count back to that 
 period so completely by the vivacity of her remarks 
 and the pictures she drew, she gave him so many 
 opportunities to display his wit, by the obliging skill 
 with which she laid herself open to repartee, that 
 the count finally made up his mind that he had never 
 been so fascinating ; and as that idea seemed to re- 
 new his youth, he tried to make his seductive com- 
 panion share his good opinion of himself. The 
 mischievous girl amused herself by bringing all her 
 powers of coquetry to bear upon the count, and she 
 was able to display the more address in that direc- 
 tion because it was mere sport to her. Thus, at 
 one moment, she allowed him to believe that he was 
 making rapid progress, and again, as if amazed at 
 the keenness of her sensations, she exhibited a 
 coldness which delighted the count and served in- 
 sensibly to inflame his impromptu passion. She 
 strongly resembled a fisherman who hauls in his 
 line from time to time to see if the fish are nib- 
 bling at the bait. The poor count allowed himself 
 to be taken in by the artless way in which his
 
 326 THE CHOUANS 
 
 rescuer accepted two or three well-turned compli- 
 ments. The emigration, the Republic, Bretagneand 
 the Chouans were a thousand leagues from his 
 thoughts. Hulot sat bolt upright in his chair, im- 
 passive and thoughtful, like the god Terminus. His 
 lack of education made him altogether unfitted for 
 that kind of conversation, he had an idea that his 
 two companions were very clever and witty ; but all 
 the powers of his intellect were concentrated in 
 the effort to understand them, in order to ascertain 
 whether they were plotting secretly against the 
 Republic. 
 
 " Montauran, mademoiselle," said the count, "is 
 well-born and well-bred, a pretty fellow ; but he 
 knows nothing of the art of gallantry. He is too 
 young to have seen Versailles. His education has 
 been neglected, and instead of repeating slanders, he 
 will deal blows with his dagger. He may love vio- 
 lently, but he will never have that refined, flowery 
 manner that distinguished Lauzun, Adhemar, Coigny 
 and so many others ! He hasn't the attractive 
 faculty of saying to women the pretty nothings that 
 please them better after all than those fiery out- 
 bursts of passion by which they are soon fatigued. 
 Yes, although he may be a favorite with the sex, he 
 has neither the ease of manner nor the grace that is 
 requisite." 
 
 " I have noticed that about him," replied Marie. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the count to himself, " the inflection 
 of her voice and her glance prove that it won't be 
 long before I am on the best of terms with her ; and.
 
 THE CHOUANS 327 
 
 faith, to belong to her, I'll believe whatever she 
 wants me to believe." 
 
 He offered his hand as dinner was served. Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil did the honors of the repast 
 with a courtesy and tact that could have been 
 acquired only by education and in the refined exist- 
 ence of the court. 
 
 ** Do you go away," she said to Hulot, as they 
 left the table ; "you would frighten him, whereas, 
 if I am alone with him, I shall soon learn all that 
 I need to know ; he is at the point at which a man 
 tells me all he thinks, and sees only with my eyes." 
 
 " And afterward ?" queried the commandant, as 
 if he proposed to claim the prisoner. 
 
 " Oh ! " she replied, "he will be as free as air." 
 
 " But he was taken with arms in his hand — " 
 
 " No," she said, resorting to one of the sophistical 
 jests with which women delight to oppose a per- 
 emptory argument, " I had disarmed him, — Count," 
 she said to the nobleman, returning to the room, " I 
 have just obtained your liberty ; but not for 
 nothing," she added with a smile, putting her head 
 on one side as if to question him. 
 
 " Ask me for everything, even my name and my 
 honor ! " he cried in his excitement, " I lay all at 
 your feet." 
 
 He rushed forward to seize her hand, trying to 
 make her take his passion for an outburst of grati- 
 tude ; but she was not a child to be so deceived. 
 
 And so, smiling in such a way as to inspire hope 
 in her new lover, she said :
 
 328 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Do you propose to make me regret my confi- 
 dence ? " and she recoiled a few steps. 
 
 "A girl's imagination moves more quickly than 
 a woman's," he replied, laughing. 
 
 " A girl has more to lose than a woman." 
 
 " True, one should be suspicious when one carries 
 a treasure." 
 
 "Let us have done witli this nonsense," she 
 rejoined, " and talk seriously. You are to give a 
 ball at Saint- James. I have heard it said that you 
 had established your base of supplies, your arsenals 
 and your seat of government there. When is the 
 ball ? " 
 
 ** To-morrow evening." 
 
 " You will not be surprised, monsieur, to learn 
 that a slandered woman desires, with a woman's 
 obstinacy, to obtain a notorious satisfaction for the 
 insults she has undergone, in the presence of those 
 who witnessed them. Therefore, I shall go to your 
 ball. I ask you to grant me your protection from 
 the moment that I appear there until 1 take my 
 leave. I don't want your word," she said, as she 
 saw him lay his hand on his heart. " 1 abhor oaths, 
 they seem too much like precautionary measures. 
 Tell me simply that you promise to protect my per- 
 son from any criminal or degrading attack. Promise 
 to repair the wrong you did me, by announcing that 
 I am really the Due de Verneuil's daughter, and by 
 saying nothing as to all the miseries I owe to the 
 lack of a father's protection ; then we shall be quits. 
 Is two hours' protection bestowed upon a woman at
 
 THE CHOUANS 329 
 
 a ball too dear a ransom ? Nonsense, you're not 
 worth an obolus more." 
 
 With a smile she deprived her words of all bitter- 
 ness. 
 
 "What will you ask for my gun.?" said the 
 count with a laugh. 
 
 " Oh ! more than for you." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " The secret. Believe me, Bauvan, a woman can 
 be fathomed only by a woman. I am certain that, 
 if you say a word, I may die on the road. Yester- 
 day, I was warned by a musket ball of the dangers 
 I run on the highways. Oh ! that lady is as clever 
 at hunting as she is quick at the toilet. No lady's- 
 maid ever undressed me so quickly. In pity's 
 name," she said, " see to it that I have nothing of 
 that sort to fear at the ball." 
 
 •' You will be under my protection there," replied 
 the count proudly. " But will you come to Saint- 
 James for Montauran's sake ? " he asked with a 
 melancholy air. 
 
 " You want to know more than I do myself," she 
 laughed. "Now, go," she added after a pause. 
 " I am going to escort you out of the town myself, 
 for you fight here like cannibals." 
 
 " Then you do take a little interest in me .'' " cried 
 the count. " Ah ! mademoiselle, permit me to hope 
 that you will not be indifferent to my friendship ; for 
 I must content myself with that sentiment, I sup- 
 pose ? " he added fatuously. 
 
 " Go to, sorcerer ! " she said, with the happy ex-
 
 330 THE CHOUANS 
 
 pression a woman assumes to make an avowal that 
 compromises neither her dignity nor her secret. 
 
 Then she put on a cloak and accompanied the 
 count as far as the Nid-aux-Crocs. When they 
 reached the end of the path, she said to him : 
 
 "Monsieur, be absolutely close-mouthed, even 
 with the marquis." 
 
 And she put her finger to her lips. 
 
 The count, emboldened by her kindly manner, 
 took her hand ; she allowed him to do it as a great 
 favor and he kissed it passionately. 
 
 " Oh ! mademoiselle, rely on me in life or in 
 death ! " he cried, when he found himself out of dan- 
 ger. " Although the debt of gratitude 1 owe you is 
 almost equal to that which I owe my mother, it will 
 be very hard for me to look upon you with no 
 warmer feeling than respect." 
 
 He darted into the path ; after watching him 
 on his way up the cliffs of Saint-Sulpice, Marie 
 nodded her head contentedly and muttered to her- 
 self : 
 
 " My stout friend has given me more than his life 
 for his life ! I will make him my creature at small 
 cost ! A creature or a creator, that is all the dif- 
 ference there is between one man and another." 
 
 She said no more but glanced despairingly upward 
 and slowly retraced her steps to Porte Saint-Leo- 
 nard, where Hulot and Corentin awaited her. 
 
 " Two days more," she cried, " and — " 
 
 She checked herself when she saw that they were 
 not alone.
 
 THE CHOUANS 33 1 
 
 "And he will fall under your muskets!" she 
 added in Hulot's ear. 
 
 The commandant fell back a step and gazed with 
 a cunning expression, difficult of interpretation, at 
 the girl, whose manner and features betrayed no 
 remorse. There is this noteworthy fact about 
 women, that they never reflect about their most 
 reprehensible acts, sentiment draws them on ; they 
 are natural even in their dissimulation, and in them 
 alone do we find crime without baseness ; most of 
 the time, they do not know how it came to pass. 
 
 " I am going to Saint- James, to the ball given by 
 the Chouans, and — " 
 
 " But it's five leagues from here," interposed Co- 
 rentin ; " do you want me to go with you ? " 
 
 " You are much engrossed," she retorted, " with 
 something to which I never give a thought — your- 
 self." 
 
 The contempt with which Marie treated Corentin 
 was particularly pleasing to Hulot, who made his 
 characteristic grimace as he watched her disappear 
 in the direction of Saint-Leonard ; Corentin fol- 
 lowed her with his eyes, allowing his face to mani- 
 fest a sly consciousness of the fatal influence that he 
 believed he was able to exert over the charming 
 creature, by putting a curb upon her passions, on 
 which he relied to find her some day in his power.
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, once more in her apart- 
 ments, devoted herself to the question of ball cos- 
 tumes. Francine, who was accustomed to obey her 
 mistress without ever understanding her purposes, 
 looked over the boxes and suggested a Grecian 
 costume. In those days, everything was Greek. 
 The costume that Marie decided upon could be placed 
 in a box that was easily carried in the hand. 
 
 " Francine, my child, I am going to take a little 
 excursion ; tell me whether you prefer to stay here 
 or go with me." 
 
 " Stay here ! " cried Francine ; " why, who would 
 dress you .-* " 
 
 " Where did you put the glove I gave you this 
 morning ? " 
 
 " Here it is." 
 
 " Sew a green ribbon on it ; and be sure to take 
 some money." 
 
 Seeing that Francine had some newly coined 
 pieces, she cried : 
 
 " That's all we need to make them murder us ! 
 Send Jeremie to wake Corentin. — No, the wretch 
 would follow us ! Send rather to the commandant, 
 and ask him from me for some double crowns." 
 
 With the true feminine sagacity that gives thought 
 
 (333)
 
 334 THE CHOUANS 
 
 to the most trifling details, Marie neglected nothing. 
 While Francine was completing the preparations for 
 her inexplicable departure, she set about trying to 
 counterfeit the cry of the screech-owl, and succeeded 
 in imitating Marche-a-Terre's signal so well that the 
 deception was perfect. At midnight she left the 
 town by Porte Saint-Leonard, climbed the narrow 
 path to the Nid-aiix-Crocs, accompanied by Francine, 
 and started across the Val de Gibarry, walking with 
 a firm step, for she was inspired by the strong will 
 that gives an indefinable suggestion of power to the 
 gait and to the whole body. To leave a ball-room 
 so wrapped up as to avoid taking cold is an impor- 
 tant matter to a woman ; but let her have a passion 
 in her heart and her body becomes bronze. A 
 daring man would have hesitated long before em- 
 barking upon that undertaking, but Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil had no sooner conceived the idea than 
 its dangers became so many enticements. 
 
 " You are starting without commending your soul 
 to God," said Francine, who had turned to lookback 
 at the bell-tower of Saint-Leonard. 
 
 The pious Breton girl stopped, clasped her hands 
 and said an Ave to Sainte Anne d'Auray, imploring 
 her that the journey might have a happy ending, 
 while her mistress stood pensively by, observing the 
 artless attitude of her maid as she prayed fervently, 
 and the effects of the misty light of the moon, which, 
 as it streamed through the openings in the walls of 
 the church, gave to the granite the light and airy 
 appearance of filigree work. The two travellers
 
 THE CHOUANS 335 
 
 soon reached Galope-Chopine's hut. Light as their 
 steps were, they awoke one of the great dogs to 
 whose fidelity the Bretons entrust the keeping of 
 the simple wooden latch that secures their doors. 
 The dog ran toward the two strangers and his 
 barking became so threatening that they were com- 
 pelled to call for help, retreating a few steps. But 
 nothing stirred. Mademoiselle gave the screech- 
 owl's cry, instantly the rusty hinges of the door 
 creaked shrilly and Galope-Chopine, who had risen 
 in haste, showed his forbidding countenance. 
 
 " I must go at once to Saint- James," said Marie, 
 presenting the Marquis de Montauran's glove to the 
 surveillant of Fougeres. " Monsieur le Comte de 
 Bauvan told me that you would guide me there and 
 protect me. So procure us two donkeys to ride, 
 my dear Galope-Chopine, and prepare to go with 
 us. Time is precious, for if we don't arrive at 
 Saint- James before to-morrow night, we shall see 
 neither the Gars nor the ball." 
 
 Galope-Chopine in his bewilderment took the 
 glove, turned it over and over and lighted a pitch 
 candle, of the size of one's little fmger and of the 
 color of gingerbread. That article of merchandise, 
 imported into Bretagne from the north of Europe, 
 betrays, like everything one sees in that strange 
 country, utter ignorance of all commercial principles, 
 even those most widely known. After he had ex- 
 amined the green ribbon, scrutinized Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil, scratched his ear and drunk a picket 
 of cider, of which he offered his fair guest a glass,
 
 336 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Galope-Chopine left her sitting by the table on the 
 bench of polished chestnut, and went out to find two 
 donkeys. The violet light shed by the imported 
 candle was not strong enough to drown the capri- 
 cious rays of the moon, which dotted with luminous 
 points the dark tones of the floor and furniture of 
 the smoke-begrimed hovel. The little boy had 
 raised his pretty wondering face, and above his fair 
 hair two cows showed their pink noses and their 
 large bright eyes through the holes in the wall of 
 the stable. The great dog, whose face was not the 
 least intelligent one in the family, seemed to ex- 
 amine the two strangers with as much curiosity as 
 the child displayed. A painter would have gazed 
 long and admiringly at the light and shade effects in 
 the picture ; but, having little desire to enter into 
 conversation with Barbette, who sat up in bed like 
 a spectre and was beginning to open her eyes to 
 their fullest extent as she recognized her, Marie 
 went out of doors to avoid the pestilential air in the 
 hovel and the questions La Becaniere was certain to 
 ask her. 
 
 She ran quickly up the staircase cut in the rock 
 that sheltered Galope-Chopine's abode, and feasted 
 her eyes upon the details of the landscape, whose 
 aspect changed with every step she took, forward 
 or back, toward the summits of the cliffs or down 
 into the valleys. The moonlight enveloped the val- 
 ley of Couesnon as in a luminous mist. Surely a 
 woman who bore in her heart a slighted love must 
 enjoy the melancholy that that soft light arouses in
 
 THE CHOUANS 337 
 
 the soul, by the fantastic aspects it imparts to com- 
 mon objects and by the colors with which it streaks 
 the waters. 
 
 At that moment the silence was broken by the 
 braying of donkeys ; Marie speedily returned to the 
 Chouan's cabin, and they started at once. Galope- 
 Chopine, armed with a double-barreled fowling- 
 piece, wore a long goatskin garment that made him 
 look like Robinson Crusoe. His blotched and 
 wrinkled face could hardly be seen under the broad- 
 brimmed hat that the peasants still retain as a tradi- 
 tion of the olden time, proud of having won during 
 their servitude the former ornament of lordly heads. 
 This nocturnal procession, under the protection of a 
 guide in whose costume, attitude and features there 
 was something patriarchal, resembled the scene 
 from the Flight into Egypt as depicted by Rem- 
 brandt's sombre brush. Galope-Chopine carefully 
 avoided the main road and guided the strangers 
 through the vast labyrinth of crossroads which in- 
 tersect Bretagne in every direction. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil thereupon realized the 
 nature of the war waged by the Chouans. As she 
 rode through those roads, she obtained a better ap- 
 preciation of the condition of the country, which, 
 looked at from above, had seemed so ravishingly 
 beautiful, but which one must see near at hand to 
 form any conception of its dangers and insurmount- 
 able difficulties. Around each field the peasants, 
 untold ages ago, built walls of earth, six feet high 
 
 and of prismatic shape with chestnuts, oaks or ash 
 22
 
 338 THE CHOUANS 
 
 trees growing along the top. These walls, thus 
 planted, are called hedges — the Norman variety of 
 hedge — and the long branches of the trees growing 
 upon them almost always overshadow the road, 
 forming an immense bower above it. The roads, 
 shut in between these walls built of clayey soil, 
 resemble the moats of walled towns, and when the 
 granite, which in those regions is almost always 
 very near the surface, does not form a sort of rough 
 pavement for them, they become practically im- 
 passable, so that the smallest cart cannot be drawn 
 by less than two pairs of oxen and two small, but 
 generally strong and hardy horses. The roads are 
 so universally boggy, that it has been found abso- 
 lutely necessary to make paths for foot-passengers, 
 in the fields and along the hedges ; these paths, 
 called rotes, begin and end with each division of the 
 land. To pass from one field to another, one must 
 climb over the hedge by means of several steps, 
 which the rain often makes very slippery. 
 
 Our travellers had many other obstacles to over- 
 come in those winding roads. Each bit of land, pro- 
 tected as we have described, has its entrance, about 
 ten feet wide, closed by what is called in the West 
 an echalier. The echalier is a trunk or a large branch 
 of a tree, one end of which, pierced from side to side, 
 is set in another shapeless mass of wood, which acts 
 as a pivot. The end of the echalier extends a little 
 beyond the pivot, so as to receive a weight suffi- 
 ciently heavy to serve as a counterpoise, thus en- 
 abling a child to handle this odd rustic gateway, the
 
 • THE CHOUANS 339 
 
 other end of which rests in a hole made on the inner 
 side of the hedge. Sometimes the peasants avoid 
 the necessity of wasting a stone as a counterpoise by- 
 allowing the large end of the tree-trunk or branch to 
 extend far enough beyond the pivot to balance the 
 weight of the other end. This form of gateway 
 varies according to the inventive genius of each land- 
 owner. Often the e'chalier consists of a single 
 branch of a tree of which both ends are secured in 
 the earthen hedge. Often it has the appearance of 
 a square gate composed of several small branches 
 placed at equal distances apart, like the rungs of a 
 ladder lying on its side. In such cases the gate turns 
 like an e'chalier, and revolves at the other end on a 
 little solid wheel. These hedges and echaliers give 
 the country the aspect of a vast checker-board, each 
 field forming a square entirely separate from the 
 others, enclosed like a fortress and like it protected by 
 ramparts. The gate, easily defended, offers the as- 
 sailant the most perilous of all conquests. Indeed the 
 Breton peasant believes that he enriches the fallow- 
 land by encouraging the growth of enormous broom 
 plants, a shrub so well treated in those regions, that 
 it speedily grows to the height of a man. This prej- 
 udice, worthy of people who pile their manure in 
 the highest part of their yards, has this result : that 
 about one field in four is occupied by forests of 
 broom which furnish facilities for innumerable am- 
 buscades. Lastly, it is doubtful if there is a single 
 field without a few old cider-apple trees, whose 
 branches hang very low and are consequently fatal
 
 340 THE CHOUANS 
 
 to the productiveness of the ground beneath them ; 
 now, if you think for a moment of the small extent of 
 the fields, whose walls all support huge trees with 
 greedy roots that monopolize a fourth of the soil, you 
 will have an idea of the appearance and state of 
 cultivation of the region Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 was at that time traversing. 
 
 It is impossible to say whether the desire to avoid 
 disputes as to the ownership of the fields or the 
 custom so dear to the indolent of shutting up cattle 
 without having to watch them, has had more to do 
 with the construction of these formidable enclosures, 
 whose permanent obstacles make the country im- 
 penetrable and warfare between large bodies of 
 troops impossible. When one has analyzed this dis- 
 position of the country, step by step, one fully un- 
 derstands the necessary ill-success of a conflict 
 between regular troops and partisans ; for five 
 hundred men can defy all the troops of a kingdom. 
 Therein lay the whole secret of the Chouan wars. 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil saw at once why it was 
 necessary for the Republic to strangle the insurrec- 
 tion by police methods and diplomacy rather than by 
 the fruitless employment of military force. For what 
 was to be done against people who were adroit 
 enough to care nothing for the possession of towns 
 and to make sure of these fields with impregnable 
 fortifications ? How avoid negotiation, when the 
 whole strength of these misguided peasants resided 
 in a shrewd and enterprising leader ? She admired 
 the genius of the minister, who sitting in his office,
 
 THE CHOUANS 34 1 
 
 divined the true secret of peace. She fancied that 
 she could understand the considerations that influ- 
 ence men who have the power to embrace a whole 
 empire at a glance, and whose actions, criminal in 
 the eyes of the vulgar, are simply the play of a far- 
 reaching thought. In such awe-inspiring minds, 
 there is a sort of partition between the power of fa- 
 tality and the power of destiny, an indescribable pre- 
 science whose signs suddenly lift them up above 
 their fellows ; the common herd looks for them a 
 moment in its own midst, it raises its eyes and sees 
 them soaring far above. These thoughts seemed to 
 justify and even to ennoble the longing for vengeance 
 conceived by Mademoiselle de Verneuil ; the travail 
 of her mind and her hopes imparted sufficient energy 
 to enable her to endure the unaccustomed fatigue of 
 her journey. 
 
 At the end of every field, Galope-Chopine was 
 compelled to make the travellers alight so that he 
 might help them to cross the difficult places, and 
 when the rotes came to an end, they were obliged to 
 resume their donkeys and take to the miry roads, 
 which gave token of the approach of winter. The 
 combination of great trees, sunken roads and walls, 
 produced in the lowlands a cloud of moisture that 
 often enveloped the three travellers in a cloak of ice. 
 After a painfully fatiguing journey, they reached the 
 forest of Marignay just at sunrise. In the broad 
 path through the woods, travelling was less difficult. 
 The arch formed by the branches, the density of the 
 foliage sheltered the travellers from the inclemency
 
 342 THE CHOUANS 
 
 of the weather, and the multiplied difficulties they 
 had had to overcome at first were not renewed. 
 
 They had ridden hardly a league through the 
 woods when they heard in the distance a confused 
 murmur of voices and the tinkling of a bell, whose 
 silvery tones had not the monotonous sound made 
 by cattle walking. As they rode along, Galope- 
 Chopine listened to the melody with much attention, 
 and soon a puff of wind brought to his ears a few 
 chanted words which seemed to make a deep im- 
 pression upon him, for he turned the tired animals 
 into a path that led away from the Saint- James 
 road, turning a deaf ear to the remonstrances of 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, whose apprehension in- 
 creased by reason of the uninviting character of their 
 surroundings. On each hand were enormous granite 
 boulders, piled one upon another in such a way 
 as to form strange figures. Between the boulders, 
 immense roots like huge snakes glided away to seek 
 at a distance nourishing juices for divers venerable 
 beeches. Both sides of the road resembled subter- 
 ranean grottoes, worthy of note for their wonderful 
 stalactites. Enormous festoons of rock, where the 
 dark green of the holly and the fern was mingled with 
 blotches of green and white moss, concealed high 
 precipices and the mouths of deep caverns. When the 
 three travellers had taken a few steps along a nar- 
 row path, the most astonishing of spectacles was 
 suddenly presented to Mademoiselle de Verneuil's 
 eyes, and satisfactorily explained Galope-Chopine's 
 obstinacy.
 
 THE CHOUANS 343 
 
 A semi-circular basin, composed entirely of blocks 
 of granite, formed an amphitheatre from whose un- 
 hewn steps, tall black yews and yellowing chest- 
 nuts arose one above another, presenting the aspect 
 of a great circus, whereon the winter sun seemed 
 rather to cast a few pale beams than to shed its 
 light, while the autumn had strewn everywhere its 
 yellow carpet of withered leaves. In the centre 
 of this vast hall, which seemed to have had the 
 Deluge for architect, rose three huge druidical 
 stones, a mammoth altar upon which was fixed an 
 ancient banner of the church. A hundred or more 
 men, kneeling and bareheaded, were praying fer- 
 vently in that enclosure, where a priest, assisted by 
 two other ecclesiastics, was saying mass. The 
 shabbiness of the priestly garments, the priest's 
 feeble voice, which sounded like a mere murmur, 
 those kneeling men abounding in conviction, united 
 by a single sentiment and prostrate before an un- 
 adorned altar, the nakedness of the crucifix, the 
 rural wildness of the temple, the hour, the place — 
 everything combined to impart to the scene the sim- 
 plicity characteristic of the early days of Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil was profoundly im- 
 pressed. This mass said in the depths of the 
 forest, this worship driven back by persecution to 
 its source, the poesy of ancient times boldly re- 
 newed amid such strange and capricious natural sur- 
 roundings ; these Chouans, armed and disarmed, 
 cruel and praying, children and men at once, — all
 
 344 THE CHOUANS 
 
 this resembled nothing that she had ever seen or 
 imagined. She remembered how she had wondered 
 in her childhood at the pomp and parade of the 
 Romish church, which appeal so strongly to the 
 senses ; but she did not as yet know God by Him- 
 self, His cross upon the altar. His altar on the bare 
 ground ; instead of the fanciful leaves that crown 
 the gothic arches in cathedrals, the trees of autumn 
 upholding the vast dome of heaven ; instead of the 
 thousand colored beams projected by the stained 
 glass windows, the sun just intruding its reddish 
 rays and dark shadows on the altar, on the priest 
 and on the worshippers. There, men were simply a 
 fact and not a theory, it was a prayer and not a 
 religion. But human passions, whose momentary 
 repression made the picture harmonious throughout, 
 soon intruded themselves upon that mysterious 
 scene and enlivened it immensely. 
 
 When Mademoiselle de Verneuil arrived, the 
 priest was just finishing the gospel. In him she 
 recognized, not without alarm, P^re Gudin, and she 
 hastily moved out of sight, taking advantage of the 
 proximity of an immense block of granite which 
 made a convenient hiding-place for her, and drawing 
 Francine after her ; but she tried in vain to move 
 Galope-Chopine from the place he had selected to 
 participate in the benefits of that ceremony. She 
 hoped that she might be able to escape the danger 
 that threatened her, when she observed that the lay 
 of the land made it possible for her to leave the 
 place before any of the congregation. Through a
 
 THE CHOUANS 345 
 
 broad fissure in the rock she saw Abbe Gudin 
 ascend a block of granite that served him as a pulpit, 
 and he began his sermon in these words: "In 
 nomhie Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Samti." 
 
 With that, all those present reverently crossed 
 themselves. 
 
 " My dear brethren," the abbe continued in a 
 loud voice, "we will pray first of all for the de- 
 parted : Jean Cochegrue, Nicolas Laferte, Joseph 
 Brouet, Francois Parquoi, Sulpice Coupiau, all of 
 this parish, who died of wounds received at the 
 battle of La Pelerine and the siege of Foug^res. De 
 profundis, etc." 
 
 The psalm was recited, as the custom is, by the 
 congregation and priests, each repeating a verse in 
 turn with a fervor that augured well for the success 
 of the sermon. When the psalm for the dead was 
 concluded. Abbe Gudin began in a voice that rose 
 constantly higher and higher ; for the former Jesuit 
 well knew that a vehement delivery was the most 
 powerful of arguments with which to influence un- 
 civilized auditors. 
 
 ♦• Those defenders of God, Christians, have set 
 you an example of fidelity to duty," he said. " Are 
 not you ashamed to think of what they may say of 
 you in Paradise ? Except for those blessed ones 
 v/ho have been received with open arms by all the 
 saints. Our Lord might believe that your parish is 
 settled by Mohammedans ! Do you know, my gars, 
 what they say of you in Bretagne and in the king's 
 circle ? You don't know, eh ? Well, I will tell
 
 346 THE CHOUANS 
 
 you : ' Why ! the Blues have overthrown the 
 altars, they have killed the priests, they have mur- 
 dered the king and queen, they seek to take all the 
 Church's children in Bretagneto make Blues of them 
 and send them to fight outside their parishes, in very 
 distant countries where they run the risk of dying 
 unconfessed and so going down into hell for all eter- 
 nity ; and the gars of Marignay, whose church they 
 have burned, stand with their arms hanging at their 
 sides ! Oho ! that damned Republic has sold God's 
 property and that of the great nobles at public auc- 
 tion, it has divided the price among its Blues ; and 
 then, to feed on money as it feeds on blood, it has 
 decreed that three livres shall t>e taken from the 
 crown of six livres, just as it takes three men out of 
 every six ; and the gars of Marignay have not taken 
 down their muskets to drive the Blues out of Bre- 
 tagne ! Aha ! Paradise will be closed to them and 
 they can never obtain salvation — ' That's what 
 they say about you. And so it is your salvation, 
 Christians, that is at stake. You will save your souls 
 by fighting for the religion and the king. Sainte 
 Anne d'Auray herself appeared to me on the day 
 before yesterday at half-past two. She said to me 
 these very words : ' You are a priest at Marignay.? ' 
 — 'Yes, madame, at your service.' — 'Well, I am 
 Sainte Anne d'Auray, God's aunt, 2i lamodedeBrc- 
 tagne. I am still at Auray ; and I have come here 
 to bid you tell the gars of Marignay that they have 
 no hope of salvation unless they take up arms. So 
 you will refuse to give them absolution for their
 
 THE CHOUANS 347 
 
 sins unless they serve God. You will bless their 
 guns, and the gars who are without sin will not miss 
 the Blues because their guns will be consecrated ! ' 
 — She disappeared, leaving an odor of incense under 
 the Patte-d'Oie oak. I noticed the place. A beau- 
 tiful wooden Virgin has been placed there by the 
 rector of Saint- James. Now, the mother of Pierre 
 Leroi, called Marche-a-Terre, went there to pray at 
 night and was cured of her pains because of her 
 son's good works. She is there among you and 
 you see that she walks all alone. It is a miracle, 
 performed, like the resurrection of the blessed Marie 
 Lambrequin, to prove to you that God will never 
 abandon the cause of the Bretons while they fight 
 for his servants and for the king. And so, my dear 
 brethren, if you wish to obtain salvation and to 
 show yourselves true defenders of the king, our 
 lord, you must obey whatever orders you may re- 
 ceive from the man the king has sent to you, whom 
 we call the Gars. Then you will no longer be like 
 Mohammedans, and you will find yourselves, with 
 all the gars of all Bretagne, under God's banner. 
 You can take from the pockets of the Blues all the 
 money they have stolen ; for if your fields are not 
 tilled while you are fighting, the Lord and the king 
 will turnover your enemies' property to you. Would 
 you have it said, Christians, that the gars of Mari- 
 gnay are behindthegarsofMorbihan, Saint-Georges, 
 Vitre and Antrain, who are all in God's service and 
 the king's ? Will you let them take everything ? 
 Will you remain like heretics, with folded arms,
 
 348 THE CHOUANS 
 
 when so many Bretons are saving their souls and 
 their king ? ' Forsake all and follow me ! ' says the 
 Gospel. Have not we priests already given up our 
 tithes ? Forsake all, therefore, to take part in this 
 holy war ! You will be like the Maccabees. Every- 
 thing will be forgiven. You will find your rectors 
 and their cures fighting among you, and you will 
 triumph ! Mark this, Christians ! " he said in con- 
 clusion : "for to-day only we have the power to 
 bless your guns. They who do not take advantage 
 of that privilege, will find the saint of Auray no 
 longer so compassionate, and she won't listen to 
 them as she did in the former war." 
 
 This discourse, delivered in trumpet-like tones 
 and accompanied by constant gesticulation which 
 caused the perspiration to flow from every pore, ap- 
 parently produced little effect. The peasants stood 
 like statues, with their eyes fixed on the orator ; 
 but Mademoiselle de Verneuil soon noticed that that 
 attitude was the result of a spell cast upon the as- 
 semblage by the abbe. He had, after the manner 
 of great actors, swayed his whole audience like a 
 single man, appealing to selfish interests and to pas- 
 sions. Had he not absolved them in advance for all 
 their excesses, and unfastened the only bonds that 
 held those ignorant men to the observance of the 
 precepts of religion and society ? He had prosti- 
 tuted the priesthood to political interests ; but in 
 those times of revolution, every man made a weapon 
 of whatever he possessed, for the benefit of his 
 party, and the pacific Cross of Jesus became an
 
 THE CHOUANS 349 
 
 instrument of warfare no less than the ploughshare. 
 Having no one with whom she could advise, Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil turned to look at Francine, and 
 was surprised in no slight degree to find that she 
 was infected with the prevailing enthusiasm, for she 
 was devoutly telling her beads on Galope-Chopine's 
 rosary, which he had probably allowed her to take 
 during the sermon. 
 
 " Francine," she said in an undertone, " are you 
 afraid of becoming a Mohammedan ? " 
 
 "Oh! mademoiselle," replied the Breton girl, 
 "just see Pierre's mother down there, walking — " 
 
 Francine's attitude denoted such profound con- 
 viction, that Marie at once understood the secret of 
 the sermon she had heard, the influence of the 
 clergy in those country districts, and the momentous 
 results of the scene that was just beginning. The 
 peasants who were nearest the altar came forward 
 one by one and knelt down, offering their guns to the 
 preacher, who placed them on the altar. Galope- 
 Chopine made haste to present his old fowling-piece. 
 The three priests intoned the yeni Creator, while 
 the celebrant enveloped the instruments of death in 
 a cloud of bluish smoke, describing figures that 
 seemed to interlace. When the wind had blown 
 away the vapor of the incense, the guns were dis- 
 tributed to their owners. Each man knelt to receive 
 his own from the hands of the priests, who recited a 
 Latin prayer as they returned them. When the 
 armed men returned to their places, the intense 
 enthusiasm of the assemblage, thus far speechless,
 
 350 THE CHOUANS 
 
 burst forth in an awe-inspiring yet touching manner. 
 
 Domine, salvum fac regem ! 
 
 Such was the prayer that the preacher intoned in 
 a sonorous voice, and it was taken up and repeated 
 twice with tremendous force. There was something 
 wild and warlike in the cries. The two notes of the 
 word regem, readily translated by the peasants, 
 were attacked with such vigor that Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil could not refrain from thinking with emo- 
 tion of the exiled Bourbon family. That thought 
 awoke memories of her past life. Her mind reverted 
 to the fetes of that court, now scattered far and 
 wide, at which she had been a brilliant figure. The 
 marquis's face intruded itself in her reverie. With 
 the mobility characteristic of a woman's mind, she 
 forgot the picture before her eyes and recurred to 
 her schemes of vengeance, in which her life was at 
 stake, but which might fade away before a glance 
 from his eyes. As she thought of her desire to ap- 
 pear as beautiful as possible in that most critical 
 moment of her existence, she remembered that she 
 had no jewels to wear in her hair at the ball, and 
 was charmed with the idea of making use of a 
 branch of holly, whose shiny leaves and red berries 
 caught her eye at that moment. 
 
 " Ah ! my gun may miss fire if I fire at birds, but 
 at the Blues — never !" said Galope-Chopine, nod- 
 ding his head as a sign of satisfaction. 
 
 Marie examined her guide's face more closely and 
 found it a type of all those she had recently seen. 
 The old Chouan certainly bore no indication of the
 
 THE CHOUANS 35 1 
 
 possession of as many ideas as a child might be ex- 
 pected to have. An expression of childish joy- 
 wrinkled his face and his brow when he looked at 
 his gun ; but religious conviction imparted a tinge of 
 fanaticism to his expression, and for a moment all 
 the vices of civilization were displayed upon those 
 uncivilized features. They soon reached a village — 
 that is to say, a collection of four or five dwellings 
 like Galope-Chopine's, where the newly recruited 
 Chouans arrived just as Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 was finishing a repast of which bread, butter and 
 milk were the principal ingredients. The straggling 
 troop was led by the priest, who held in his hand a 
 rough cross transformed into a flag, and was fol- 
 lowed by a gars proud as a king to carry the banner 
 of the parish. Mademoiselle de Verneuil had no 
 choice but to join this detachment, which, like her- 
 self, was bound for Saint- James, and which would 
 naturally protect her from danger of any sort after 
 Galope-Chopine had committed the lucky indiscre- 
 tion of informing the leader of the troop that the 
 lovely garce, for whom he was acting as guide, was 
 the Gars's good friend. 
 
 Toward sunset the travellers reached Saint- James, 
 a small town that owes its name to the English, by 
 whom it was built in the 14th century during their 
 domination in Bretagne. Before entering the town, 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil witnessed a strange scene 
 to which she did not pay much attention : she was 
 afraid of being recognized by some of her enemies, 
 and that fear made her quicken her pace. Five or
 
 352 THE CHOUANS 
 
 six thousand peasants were encamped in a field. 
 Their costumes, not unlike those of the conscripts 
 at La Pelerine, excluded all idea of war. The 
 tumultuous assemblage resembled rather a great 
 fair. Indeed a careful scrutiny was required to 
 discover that the men were armed, for their goat- 
 skins, of diverse shapes, almost hid their guns, and 
 the weapon most in evidence was the scythe with 
 which some supplied the place of the guns that were 
 to be distributed to them. Some were eating and 
 drinking, others fighting or disputing loudly, but 
 most of them were lying on the ground asleep. There 
 was no appearance of order or discipline. An 
 officer in a red uniform attracted Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil's attention ; she supposed that he was in 
 the English service. Farther away two other officers 
 seemed to be trying to teach some Chouans, more 
 intelligent than the others, how to handle two pieces 
 of cannon which seemed to compose all the artillery 
 of the future Royalist army. Loud shouts greeted 
 the arrival of the gars from Marignay, who were rec- 
 ognized by their banner. 
 
 Under cover of the commotion aroused in the camp 
 by the new arrivals and the priests. Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil was able to make her way through it un- 
 harmed and to enter the town. She found an inn of 
 poor appearance, not very far from the house where 
 the ball was to be given. The town was so filled 
 with people that she succeeded only with the utmost 
 difficulty in securing a wretched little room. When 
 she was installed therein and Galope-Chopine had
 
 FOR THE BALL AT SALNT-JAMES 
 
 When she had bestowed her approbation, witJi a 
 smile, upon Jier headdress, zvJiose most trifling details 
 helped to bring out the beauties of her face, she placed 
 upon her head the wreath of holly she had prepared, 
 its mimerous bunches of bright red berries repeating 
 the color of the tunic most effectively in her hair.
 
 <,..,,., I, -,1.1 ■ ' 
 
 
 ^- 

 
 THE CHOUANS 353 
 
 handed Francine the box containing her mistress's 
 costume, he remained in the room in an indescribable 
 attitude of suspense and irresolution. At any other 
 moment, Mademoiselle de Verneuil would have been 
 amused to see what a Breton peasant is like away 
 from his parish ; but she broke the charm by taking 
 from her purse four crowns of six francs which she 
 handed him. 
 
 "Take this!" she said to Galope-Chopine ; 
 *'and, if you wish to oblige me, you v/ill return at 
 once to Fougeres, without passing through the camp 
 and without tasting the cider ! " 
 
 The Chouan, astonished by such liberality, looked 
 from the four crowns he had in his hand to Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil ; but she waved her hand to 
 him and he disappeared. 
 
 " How can you send him away, mademoiselle .? " 
 asked Francine. " Didn't you notice how the town 
 is surrounded ? How shall we get away from it and 
 who will protect you here ? " 
 
 " Haven't you your own protector ? " said Made- 
 moiselle de Verneuil with a sly smile, whistling 
 softly after the manner of Marche-a-Terre, whose 
 attitude she tried to imitate. 
 
 Francine blushed and smiled sadly at her mistress's 
 high spirits. 
 
 " But where is yours ? " she said. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil suddenly drew her dag- 
 ger and showed it to the terrified Breton, who fell 
 upon a chair and clasped her hands. 
 
 " Oh ! Marie, whom do you expect to find here ? " 
 23
 
 354 THE CHOUANS 
 
 she cried in an imploring voice which asked for no 
 reply. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil was busily twisting the 
 holly branches she had gathered. 
 
 " I don't know if this holly will look well in my 
 hair," she said. " Only a face that is as highly 
 colored as mine could stand so sombre a headdress ; 
 what do you think of it, Francine ? " 
 
 Several similar remarks while this extraordinary 
 young woman was dressing, indicated the greatest 
 self-possession. Anyone listening to her would have 
 found it difficult to believe that a most momentous 
 crisis was approaching in which her life was the 
 stake. A dress of Indian muslin, rather short, and 
 clinging like damp linen, revealed the delicate out- 
 lines of her figure ; then she donned a red garment, 
 whose numerous folds, gradually lengthening as they 
 fell by her side, showed the graceful curves of the 
 Grecian tunic. That voluptuous garment of the 
 Pagan priestesses softened somewhat the immodesty 
 of the costume, which the fashions of that time 
 permitted women to wear. To soften it still 
 more, Marie covered with a gauze veil her white 
 shoulders, which the tunic left too much exposed. 
 She twisted her long locks in such a way as to 
 form behind her head the truncated cone which im- 
 parts such grace to the shape of some ancient statues 
 by the artificial lengthening of the head, and some 
 few curls fell on each side of her face in long glossy 
 ringlets. Thus arrayed, her head thus adorned, she 
 presented a striking resemblance to the most famous
 
 THE CHOUANS 355 
 
 masterpieces of Greek sculpture. When she had 
 bestowed her approbation, with a smile, upon her 
 headdress, whose most trifling details helped to bring 
 out the beauties of her face, she placed upon her 
 head the wreath of holly she had prepared, its 
 numerous bunches of bright red berries repeating 
 the color of the tunic most effectively in her hair. 
 After twisting a few leaves in order to obtain the 
 effect of the contrast between their face and back. 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil looked in the mirror to 
 pass judgment upon her appearance as a whole. 
 
 " I am ghastly this evening ! " she said, as if she 
 were surrounded by admirers. " I look like a statue 
 of Liberty." 
 
 She bestowed her dagger carefully in her corsage, 
 allowing the rubies in the handle to protrude, so that 
 their ruddy gleam might attract the eye to the treas- 
 ures her rival had so shamefully prostituted. Fran- 
 cine could not make up her mind to leave her mis- 
 tress. When she saw that she was ready to go, 
 she easily found excuses for accompanying her, in 
 all the obstacles women have to encounter, who at- 
 tend a fete in a small town of Lower Bretagne. 
 Must she not take Mademoiselle de Verneuil's cloak, 
 her overshoes, which the mud and filth in the street 
 compelled her to wear although gravel had been 
 spread about, and the gauze veil behind which 
 she concealed her face from the gaze of the Chouans 
 who were attracted by curiosity to the house where 
 the party was to take place ? The crowd was so 
 great that they walked between two lines of Chouans.
 
 356 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Francine made no further attempt to detain her mis- 
 tress ; but after rendering the last services demanded 
 by a toilet whose merit consisted in its being per- 
 fectly fresh, she remained in the courtyard in order 
 not to abandon her to the hazards of her destiny 
 without being at hand to fly to her succor, for the 
 poor Breton girl anticipated nothing but disaster.
 
 * 
 
 A strange scene took place in the Marquis de 
 Montauran's apartment just as Marie was on iier 
 way to the ball. The young marquis was finishing 
 his toilet and adjusting the broad red ribbon that 
 would serve to identify him as the most important 
 person in the assemblage, when Abbe Gudin en- 
 tered the room with an anxious face. 
 
 "Come quickly, monsieur le marquis," he said. 
 *' You alone can calm the storm that has arisen, I 
 don't know on what subject, among the leaders. 
 They are talking of leaving the king's service. I 
 believe that devil of a Rifoel is at the bottom of the 
 whole trouble. These quarrels are always caused 
 by some foolish trifle. Madame du Gua reproached 
 him, so I am told, for coming to the ball very ill- 
 dressed." 
 
 " That woman must be mad," cried the marquis, 
 "to try—" 
 
 " The Chevalier du Vissard," continued the abbe, 
 interrupting him, " replied that, if you had given 
 him the money promised in the king's name — " 
 
 " Enough, enough, monsieur I'abbe, I understand 
 
 it all now ! This scene was arranged beforehand, 
 
 wasn't it ? and you are the ambassador — " 
 
 " I, monsieur le marquis ! " rejoined the abbe, 
 
 (357)
 
 358 THE CHOUANS 
 
 interrupting again, " I propose to support you vigor- 
 ously, and you will, I trust, do me the justice to 
 believe that the re-establishment of our altars in 
 France, and the restoration of our king to the throne 
 of his fathers are much more powerful incentives to 
 my humble labors than the bishopric of Rennes 
 which you — " 
 
 The abbe did not dare continue, for, at those 
 words, the marquis smiled bitterly. But the young 
 chief instantly repressed his gloomy reflections, his 
 face assumed a stern expression, and he followed 
 Abbe Gudin to a room from which a tremendous up- 
 roar proceeded. 
 
 "I recognize no man's authority here!" cried 
 Rifoel, with an inflamed glance at all who stood 
 about him, and putting his hand to his sword hilt. 
 
 " Do you recognize the authority of common 
 sense .■* " demanded the marquis, coldly. 
 
 The young Chevalier du Vissard, better known 
 by his patronymic Rifoel, held his peace before the 
 general of the Catholic forces. 
 
 " What is the matter, messieurs ? " said the 
 young leader, scrutinizing all their faces. 
 
 " The matter is this, monsieur le marquis," re- 
 plied a famous smuggler, evidently embarrassed like 
 a man of the people who remains at first under the 
 yoke of prejudice in presence of a great nobleman, but 
 who recognizes no boundary when he has crossed 
 the barrier that separates them, because he then 
 sees in the nobleman only an equal; "the matter 
 is that you come in the nick of time, 1 don't know
 
 THE CHOUANS 359 
 
 how to use flowery words, so I'll say what I mean 
 bluntly. 1 commanded five hundred men all through 
 the last war. Since we took up arms again, I have 
 succeeded in finding a thousand heads as hard as 
 my own, to serve the king. For seven years I've 
 risked my life for the good cause, and — 1 don't mean 
 to reproach you — but all hard work deserves pay. 
 Now, to begin with, 1 want to be called Monsieur de 
 Cottereau ; I want to be recognized as a colonel ; if 
 not, I'll make a bargain with the First Consul to lay 
 down my arms. You see, monsieur le marquis, my 
 men and I have a devilish persistent creditor and we 
 have to keep satisfying him ! — There he is ! " he 
 added, striking his stomach. 
 
 "Have the violins come.?" the marquis asked 
 Madame du Gua in a contemptuous tone. 
 
 But the subject discussed by the smuggler with 
 such brutal frankness was too important, and those 
 minds, no less calculating than ambitious, had been 
 too long in suspense as to what they might hope 
 from the king, to allow the marquis's disdain to put 
 an end to the scene. The youthful and hot headed 
 Chevalier du Vissard stepped hastily in front of 
 Montauran and took his hand to compel him to 
 remain. 
 
 "Beware, monsieur le marquis," he said, "you 
 treat too lightly men who have some claim to the 
 gratitude of him you represent here. We know 
 that His Majesty has given you full power to put a 
 price upon our services, which ought to find their 
 reward in this world or the other, for scaffolds are
 
 36o THE CHOUANS 
 
 erected every day for us. For my own part I know- 
 that the rank of field-marshal — " 
 
 " You mean colonel, do you not ? " 
 
 " No, monsieur le marquis. Charette appointed 
 me a colonel. As my claim to the rank I speak of 
 cannot be contested, I am not pleading at this mo- 
 ment for myself, but for my intrepid brothers in 
 arms, whose services need to be made known. 
 Your signature and your promises will be enough 
 for them to-day; and," he said in an undertone, 
 " I admit that they are easily satisfied. But," he 
 continued, raising his voice once more, " when the 
 sun shall rise in the chateau of Versailles to shed 
 light upon the happy days of the monarchy, 
 will the faithful, who have aided the king to con- 
 quer France, in France, be able to obtain favors 
 readily for their families, pensions for the widows, 
 and restitution of the property that has been so 
 inopportunely confiscated ? I doubt it. And so, 
 monsieur le marquis, the proofs of services rendered 
 will not be amiss at that time. I shall never dis- 
 trust the king, but I distrust exceedingly his cor- 
 morants of ministers and courtiers who will fill his 
 ears full of considerations touching the public wel- 
 fare, the honor of France, the interest of the crown 
 and endless quantities of like trash. Then they 
 will turn up their noses at a loyal Vendean or gal- 
 lant Chouan, because he is old, and because the 
 sword he drew for the good cause gets caught be- 
 tween his legs, that are wasted by privation. — Do 
 you think we are wrong ? "
 
 THE CHOUANS 361 
 
 ** You speak admirably well, Monsieur du Vissard, 
 but a little too soon," replied the marquis, 
 
 " Hark ye, marquis," said the Comte de Bauvan 
 in an undertone, " Rifoel said some very good 
 things, on my word. You see, you are sure of al- 
 ways having the king's ear ; but we fellows shall 
 only see the master at long intervals ; and I confess 
 that, unless you gave me your word of honor that 
 you would obtain for me in due time the office of 
 Grand Master of Rivers and Forests, deuce take me 
 if I would risk my neck. To conquer Normandie 
 for the king is no trifling task, and I hope to have 
 the Order for it. — But," he added, blushing, "we 
 have time enough to think of that. God forbid that 
 I should imitate these poor devils and harass you. 
 You will mention me to the king and it will be all 
 right." 
 
 Each of the leaders succeeded in signifying to the 
 marquis, by more or less ingenious means, the ex- 
 aggerated reward that he expected for his services. 
 One modestly asked for the government of Bretagne, 
 another for a barony, this one for a commission in 
 the army, that one for a high office ; and they all 
 wanted pensions. 
 
 "Well, baron," said the marquis to Monsieur du 
 Guenic, " is there nothing that you want ? " 
 
 " Faith, marquis, these gentlemen leave nothing 
 for me but the crown of France, but I could do very 
 well with that." 
 
 "Consider, messieurs," interposed Abbe Gudin 
 in a voice of thunder, " that, if you are so insistent,
 
 362 THE CHOUANS 
 
 you will spoil everything on the day of victory. 
 Will not the king be obliged to make concessions to 
 the revolutionists ? " 
 
 " To the Jacobins ! " cried the smuggler. " Ah ! 
 if the king will let me have my way, I will agree to 
 employ my thousand men in hanging them and we 
 shall soon be rid of them." 
 
 " Monsieur ^^ Cottereau," said the marquis, "I 
 see certain persons coming, who were invited to at- 
 tend this meeting. We must vie with one another 
 in zealous attentions in order to induce them to join 
 in our sanctified undertaking, and you will under- 
 stand that this is not the time to consider your de- 
 mands, however just they may be." 
 
 As he spoke, the marquis walked toward the door, 
 as if to go and meet some of the provincial nobles 
 whom he had seen approaching ; but the bold smug- 
 gler barred the way with a submissive and respect- 
 ful demeanor. 
 
 "No, no, monsieur le marquis; excuse me, but 
 the Jacobins taught us too well, in 1793, that he 
 who sows the crop, doesn't eat the cake. Just sign 
 this slip of paper and to-morrow I bring you fifteen 
 hundred gars ; if not, 1 make terms with the First 
 Consul." 
 
 Casting a haughty glance about the room, the 
 marquis saw that the old partisan's boldness and his 
 determined bearing were not displeasing to a single 
 one of the witnesses of the discussion. There was 
 but one man who, sitting apart in a corner, seemed 
 to take no interest in the scene, but busied himself
 
 THE CHOUANS 363 
 
 filling a clay pipe with tobacco. The disdainful ex- 
 pression with which he regarded the orators, his 
 modest attitude and the sympathetic glances that 
 the marquis met from his eyes, led him to examine 
 more closely this generous-minded adherent, whom 
 he recognized as Major Brigaut. The marquis sud- 
 denly walked up to him. 
 
 "And you," said he, "what have you to ask 
 for ? " 
 
 " Oh ! monsieur le marquis, if the king returns, I 
 am content." 
 
 " But for yourself ? " 
 
 " Oh ! for myself. — Monseigneur is jesting." 
 
 The marquis pressed the Breton's callous hand 
 and said to Madame du Gua, as he stepped to her 
 side : 
 
 " I may die, madame, before 1 have had time to 
 make a faithful report to the king concerning the 
 Catholic armies of Bretagne. If you live to see the 
 Restoration, do not forget yonder gallant man or the 
 Baron du Guenic. There is more real devotion in 
 them than in all these people." 
 
 And he pointed to the others who were waiting 
 with evident impatience for the marquis to comply 
 with their demands. One and all held folded papers 
 in their hands, wherein doubtless their services in 
 the preceding wars were certified by the Royalist 
 generals, and they all began to murmur. In the 
 midst of them Abbe Gudin, the Comte de Bauvan 
 and the Baron du Guenic were consulting as to the 
 best means of assisting the marquis to repel such
 
 364 THE CHOUANS 
 
 exaggerated demands, for tliey saw that their young 
 leader was in a very delicate position. 
 
 Suddenly the marquis flashed his blue eyes, 
 gleaming with irony, over the assemblage, and said 
 in a distinct voice : 
 
 "Messieurs, I do not know whether the powers 
 the king has deigned to confer upon me are suffi- 
 ciently extensive to enable me to satisfy your de- 
 mands. He may not have foreseen such zeal, such 
 devotion. You shall yourselves be the judges of 
 my duty and perhaps I shall be able to fulfil it." 
 
 He disappeared and returned at once, holding in 
 his hand a folded document, bearing the royal seal 
 and signature. 
 
 " Here are the letters patent by virtue of which 
 it is your duty to obey me," he said. "They au- 
 thorize me to act as governor of Bretagne, Norman- 
 die, Maine and Anjou in the king's name, and to 
 recognize the services of those officers who shall 
 distinguish themselves in his armies." 
 
 There was a general movement of satisfaction 
 throughout the assemblage. The Chouans walked 
 toward the marquis and respectfully formed a circle 
 about him. All eyes were fixed on the king's signa- 
 ture. The young chieftain, who was standing in 
 front of the fireplace, threw the document into the 
 fire, where it was consumed in the twinkling of an eye. 
 
 " Henceforth, I propose to command only those 
 who see in the king a king, and not a victim to be 
 devoured," cried the young man. " You are at 
 liberty to abandon me, messieurs."
 
 THE CHOUANS 365 
 
 Madame du Gua, Abbe Gudin, Major Brigaut, the 
 Chevalier du Vissard, the Comte de Bauvan, and 
 the Baron du Guenic enthusiastically shouted 
 l^ive le roi! Although the other leaders hesitated 
 for a moment to echo the shout, ere long, carried 
 away by the marquis's noble act, they implored 
 him to forget what had happened, assuring him 
 that he should still be their leader, even without the 
 letters-patent. 
 
 " Let us go and dance," cried the Comte de Bau- 
 van, "and let come what come may! After all," 
 he added gayly, " it's much better, my friends, to 
 address our prayers to God than to his saints. Let 
 us fight first, and then we will see what comes 
 next." 
 
 " Ah ! that is very true ! With due respect, 
 monsieur le baron," said Brigaut in an undertone, 
 addressing the loyal Du Guenic, " I have never 
 heard of such a thing as demanding the day's wages 
 early in the morning." 
 
 The party adjourned to the salons where some 
 few persons were already assembled. The marquis 
 tried in vain to put away the gloomy expression that 
 his face wore, and the leaders readily perceived the 
 discouraging impression that scene had produced 
 upon a man whose devotion was still attended by 
 the fair illusions of youth, and they were ashamed. 
 
 Symptoms of delirious joy were manifest in that 
 assemblage composed of the most fanatical adherents 
 of the Royalist party, who, having never had an 
 opportunity to realize, in the heart of a rebellious
 
 366 THE CHOUANS 
 
 province, the real progress made by the Revolu- 
 tion, were quick to accept the most hypothetical 
 hopes for realities. The bold operations begun by 
 Montauran, his name, his fortune, his capacity, 
 aroused the courage of all, and caused that political 
 excitement, the most dangerous of all forms of 
 excitement, because it is allayed only by torrents 
 of blood, almost always uselessly shed. To all 
 those present, the Revolution was simply a temporary 
 disturbance in the kingdom of France, where, in 
 their eyes, nothing was changed. The fields about 
 them still belonged to the house of Bourbon. The 
 Royalists were so absolutely supreme there that 
 Hoche, four years before, obtained an armistice 
 rather than peace. Therefore the nobles spoke of 
 the Revolutionists in very slighting terms : to them 
 Bonaparte was simply a Marceau, more fortunate 
 than his predecessor. And so the women were in 
 the best of spirits as they prepared for the dance. 
 Only those of the leaders who had met the Blues in 
 battle realized the gravity of the present crisis, and 
 knowing that they would not be understood, if they 
 should speak to their benighted compatriots of the 
 First Consul and his great power, they talked 
 among themselves, glancing at the ladies with an 
 indifference for which these took their revenge by 
 criticizing them. Madame du Gua, who took upon 
 herself to do the honors of the ball, tried to soothe 
 the impatience of the fair dancers by addressing to 
 each in turn the customary compliments. The 
 shrill tones of the instruments being put in tune were
 
 THE CHOUANS 367 
 
 beginning to be heard, when Madame du Gua spied 
 the marquis, whose features still retained a melan- 
 choly expression. She walked swiftly to his side. 
 
 " I venture to hope that it is not the very com- 
 monplace scene that you had with those clowns that 
 has depressed you so ? " she said. 
 
 She obtained no reply ; the marquis, absorbed in 
 his reverie, fancied that he was listening to some 
 of the arguments that Marie, with prophetic voice, 
 had urged upon him amid those same men, at La 
 Viveti^re, to induce him to abandon the conflict of 
 kings against nations. But the young man had too 
 much nobility of soul, too much pride, too much 
 sincere conviction, perhaps, to lay aside the work 
 he had begun, and he determined at that moment to 
 go on with it courageously, despite all obstacles. 
 He proudly raised his head, and then he understood 
 what Madame du Gua was saying to him. 
 
 " Your mind is at Fougeres, doubtless ! " she said 
 with a bitterness that revealed the fruitlessness of 
 the efforts she had made to distract the marquis. 
 **Ah ! monsieur, I would give my blood to put 
 her into your hands, and to see you happy with 
 her." 
 
 " In that case, why did you fire at her with such 
 careful aim ? " 
 
 "Because I wanted her to be dead or in your 
 arms. Yes, monsieur, I could have loved the Mar- 
 quis de Montauran on the day that I thought I saw a 
 hero in him. Now, I have no other feeling for him 
 than a sort of compassionate friendship, for 1 see him
 
 368 THE CHOUANS 
 
 shut out from a glorious career by the wandering 
 heart of a ballet-dancer." 
 
 "So far as love is concerned," retorted the mar- 
 quis ironically, "you judge me very poorly! If I 
 loved that girl, madame, I should desire her less — 
 and, except for you, perhaps, I should have ceased 
 to think of her before this." 
 
 " Here she is ! " said Madame du Gua abruptly. 
 
 The precipitate haste with which the marquis 
 turned his head wounded the poor woman to the 
 quick ; but, as the bright light of the candles enabled 
 her to note the slightest change in the features of the 
 man she loved so fiercely, she fancied that she 
 could discover therein some hope of returning affec- 
 tion, when he turned his face toward her once more, 
 smiling at her woman's stratagem. 
 
 "What are you laughing at .-' " queried the Comte 
 de Bauvan. 
 
 " At a soap-bubble that has just burst ! " replied 
 Madame du Gua joyously. " The marquis, if his 
 word is to be believed, was much astonished just 
 now to find that his heart beat fast for an instant at 
 the thought of that creature who called herself 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil. Do you know her ? " 
 
 "That creature .■* " rejoined the count in a re- 
 proachful tone. " Madame, it is for the author of a 
 wrong to repair it, and I give you my word of honor 
 that she is really the daughter of the Due de Ver- 
 neuil." 
 
 " Monsieur le comte," said the marquis in a voice 
 expressive of deep emotion, "which of your two
 
 THE CHOUANS 369 
 
 statements am 1 to believe, that at La Vivetiere or 
 that at Saint- James ? " 
 
 A loud voice announced Mademoiselle de Verneuil. 
 The count darted to the door, offered his hand to 
 the lovely stranger with every token of the most 
 profound respect, and as he led her through the 
 gaping crowd to present her to the marquis and Ma- 
 dame du Gua, he answered the confounded young 
 chief's question : 
 
 " Believe only my statement of to-day ! " 
 Madame du Gua turned pale at sight of that ill- 
 omened woman, who stood still for a moment glanc- 
 ing haughtily over the assemblage in search of 
 those who had been of the party at La Vivetiere. 
 She awaited the perfunctory salutation of her rival, 
 and, without looking at the marquis, allowed the 
 count to lead her to a place of honor, beside Ma- 
 dame du Gua, upon v/hom she bestowed a slight, 
 patronizing bow, but who, with the keen instinct of 
 a woman, restrained her anger and at once assumed 
 an affable and smiling demeanor. Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil's extraordinary costume and her beauty 
 caused a momentary murmur of admiration. When 
 the marquis and Madame du Gua turned their eyes 
 upon those who had been guests at La Vivetiere, 
 they found them in a respectful attitude that did not 
 seem to be feigned, each of them apparently seeking 
 some method of reinstating himself in the favor of 
 the maltreated young Parisian. The enemies were 
 face to face. 
 
 " Why, this is witchcraft, mademoiselle ! No one 
 24
 
 370 THE CHOUANS 
 
 on earth but you could so surprise your friends. 
 Have you come all alone ? " said Madame du Gua. 
 
 " All alone," echoed Mademoiselle de Verneuil ; 
 " so, madame, you have nobody but myself to 
 slaughter to-night." 
 
 "Be a little indulgent," rejoined Madame du 
 Gua. " I can not express the pleasure I feel at see- 
 ing you again. Really I was crushed by the thought 
 of the v/rong I had done you, and 1 was seeking an 
 opportunity to atone for it," 
 
 " As for the wrong done, madame, I readily for- 
 give all that you have done me : but I have on my 
 heart the death of the Blues you murdered. I might 
 perhaps complain also of the rigidity of your cor- 
 respondence. However, I overlook everything in 
 view of the service you have rendered me." 
 
 Madame du Gua lost countenance when she felt 
 her fair rival press her hand and saw her insulting 
 smile. The marquis had not moved, but at that 
 moment he seized the count's arm in a strong grasp. 
 
 "You deceived me shamefully," he said, " and 
 you compromised my honor ; I am not a Geronte, 
 and I must have your life or you mine." 
 
 "Marquis," replied the count haughtily, "I am 
 ready to give you whatever explanations you 
 desire." 
 
 And they went toward the adjoining room. 
 Those persons who understood the scene least began 
 to realize its interest, so that, when the violins gave 
 the signal for the dancing to begin, no one moved. 
 
 " Pray, mademoiselle, what service have I had
 
 THE CHOUANS 371 
 
 the honor of rendering you, to deserve — ? " began 
 Madame du Gua, pressing her lips together in a sort 
 of frenzy. 
 
 "Why, madame, did you not enlighten me as to 
 the Marquis de Montauran's real character ? With 
 what indifference that man allowed me to go to my 
 death ! I abandon him to you with all my heart." 
 
 "Then why have you come here?" said Ma- 
 dame du Gua eagerly. 
 
 "To recover the esteem and consideration that 
 you stole from me at La Vivetiere, madame. As 
 for anything more than that, have no fear. Even if 
 the marquis should return to me, you must know 
 that a return of that sort is never love." 
 
 Thereupon Madame du Gua took Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil's hand with the effusiveness that women 
 display so freely among themselves, especially in 
 the presence of men. 
 
 " Ah ! well, my poor girl, I am delighted to find 
 you so reasonable. If the service I rendered you 
 was somewhat rough at first," she said, pressing 
 the hand she held, although she longed to tear it 
 with her nails when she felt its velvety softness, 
 " it shall at least be complete. Listen, I am well 
 acquainted with the Gars's character," she added 
 with a perfidious smile; "well, he would have de- 
 ceived you, he does not intend to, he cannot marry 
 anyone." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "Yes, mademoiselle; he accepted his dangerous 
 mission only to earn the hand of Mademoiselle
 
 372 THE CHOUANS 
 
 d'Uxelles, an alliance in procuring which His Majesty 
 has promised him his warmest support." 
 
 "Aha!" 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil did not add a word to 
 that mocking exclamation. The young and comely 
 Chevalier du Vissard, eager to obtain forgiveness 
 for the jest that had given the signal for the insults 
 at La Vivetiere, approached her and respectfully 
 invited her to dance ; she gave him her hand and 
 they joined the quadrille in which Madame du Gua 
 had taken her place. The appearance of the ladies 
 present, whose costumes recalled the fashions of 
 the exiled court, their hair being powdered or tightly 
 curled, seemed absurd when compared with the re- 
 fined, rich, yet severely simple costume which the 
 prevailing fashion justified Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 in wearing — a costume that was condemned aloud 
 but inwardly envied by the ladies. The men did 
 not grow weary of admiring the beauty of her 
 natural headdress, and the details of a toilet whose 
 charm consisted in the noble proportions it revealed. 
 
 At that moment the marquis and the count re- 
 turned to the ball-room and stood behind Mademoi- 
 selle de Verneuil, who did not turn. If a mirror 
 that she was facing had not informed her of the 
 marquis's presence, she would have guessed it from 
 the countenance of Madame du Gua, whose appar- 
 ently indifferent expression ill concealed the im- 
 patience with which she awaited the conflict that 
 was certain to break out, sooner or later, between 
 the two lovers. Although the marquis was engaged
 
 THE CHOUANS 373 
 
 in conversation with the count and two other persons, 
 he could none the less hear the remarks of the 
 dancers, who, in executing the figures of the contra- 
 dance, occupied momentarily the place of Mademoi- 
 selle de Verneuil and her neighbors. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, yes, madame, she came alone," said 
 one. 
 
 " She must be very bold," replied his partner. 
 
 "Why, if 1 were dressed like that, I should feel 
 as if I were naked," said another lady. 
 
 " Oh ! it's not a decent costume," replied her 
 cavalier, " but she is so lovely and it is so becoming 
 to her ! " 
 
 " Upon my word, I am ashamed for her, she 
 dances so perfectly. Don't you think that she has 
 every appearance of being a dancer at the Opera ? " 
 said the jealous lady. 
 
 " Do you suppose she has come here to negotiate 
 for peace in the name of the First Consul ? " queried 
 a third female. 
 
 " What nonsense ! " rejoined her partner. 
 
 "She will hardly bring her husband innocence 
 for her dowry," laughed the lady. 
 
 The Gars turned abruptly to look at the person 
 who indulged in that epigram, whereupon Madame 
 du Gua's eyes met his with an expression that 
 plainly said : " You see what people think of her ! " 
 
 " Madame," said the count laughingly, to Marie's 
 enemy, " it's only the ladies as yet who have robbed 
 her of it." 
 
 The marquis inwardly forgave the count all his
 
 374 THE CHOUANS 
 
 sins. When he ventured to glance at his mistress, 
 whose charms, like those of almost all women, were 
 enhanced by the light of the candles, she turned her 
 back on him as she returned to her place, and began 
 to talk with her partner, allowing the sweetest tones 
 of which her voice was capable to reach the mar- 
 quis's ear. 
 
 " The First Consul sends us very dangerous am- 
 bassadors ! " said her partner. 
 
 " That has already been said at La Vivetiere, 
 monsieur," she replied. 
 
 " Why, your memory is as good as the king's ! " 
 retorted the chevalier, annoyed at his misstep. 
 
 " One must have a good memory in order to for- 
 give insults," she rejoined quickly, extricating him 
 from his embarrassment by a smile. 
 
 " Are we all included in that amnesty ? " queried 
 the marquis. 
 
 But she plunged into the dance with childish ex- 
 citement, leaving him abashed and without a reply ; 
 he gazed at her with a cold and melancholy air, she 
 noticed it, and thereupon she inclined her head with 
 one of the coquettish movements that the graceful 
 proportions of her neck made possible for her, and 
 certainly forgot none of the motions calculated to 
 display the rare perfection of her figure. Marie 
 fascinated like hope, she eluded pursuit like a fleet- 
 ing memory. To see her thus was to be determined 
 to possess her at any cost. She knew it, and her 
 very consciousness of her beauty gave an inexpres- 
 sible charm to her features. The marquis felt a
 
 THE CHOUANS 375 
 
 hurricane of love, of frenzy and madness rising in 
 his heart ; he wrung the count's hand violently and 
 left the room. 
 
 "So he has gone, has he?" said Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil, returning to her place. 
 
 The count, with a significant gesture to his pro- 
 tegee, darted into the adjoining room, and returned 
 with the Gars. 
 
 " He is mine," she said to herself, as she scruti- 
 nized in the mirror the marquis's agitated face, which 
 was beaming with hope. 
 
 She received the young leader with a pouting 
 face and without a word, but she left him with a 
 smile ; she realized his superiority so fully that she 
 was proud to be able to tyrannize over him, and she 
 determined to make him pay dearly for a few soft 
 words, in order to teach him their value, following 
 an instinctive impulse to which all women yield 
 more or less. When the contra-dance was at an 
 end, all the gentlemen from La Vivetiere crowded 
 about Marie, and each one of them implored her for- 
 giveness for his error, with compliments more or 
 less gracefully turned ; but he whom she longed to 
 see at her feet did not approach the group where 
 she held court. 
 
 " He thinks that I love him still," she said to her- 
 self, "he does not choose to be confounded with 
 those who are indifferent to me." 
 
 She declined to dance. Then, as if the function 
 had been given for her, she went from quadrille to 
 quadrille, leaning on the arm of the Comte de
 
 3/6 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Bauvan, whom she was pleased to treat with some 
 degree of familiarity. The episode of La Vivetiere, 
 even to its most trifling details, was by this time 
 known to the whole assemblage, thanks to the 
 efforts of Madame du Gua, who hoped, by calling 
 attention to Mademoiselle de Verneuil and the mar- 
 quis, to place an additional obstacle in the way of 
 their reunion ; so that the two disunited lovers had 
 become the objects of general attention. Montauran 
 did not dare approach his mistress, for his realiza- 
 tion of the wrong he had done her and the violence 
 of his rekindled passion made her almost terrible to 
 him ; and, on her side, the young woman, while 
 pretending to look at the dancing, kept close watch 
 upon his deceitfully calm face. 
 
 " It's horribly warm here," she said to her cava- 
 lier. " I see that Monsieur de Montauran's fore- 
 head is all wet. Take me to the other side of the 
 room so that 1 can breathe — 1 am stifling." 
 
 With a motion of her head, she indicated to the 
 count the adjoining salon, where some few of the 
 guests were playing cards. The marquis followed 
 his mistress thither, having divined her words from 
 the movement of her lips. He dared to hope that 
 she had left the crowd only for the purpose of seeing 
 him, and that assumed favor increased his passion 
 beyond words ; for his love had waxed greater with 
 all the efforts to crush it he had thought it his duty 
 to make during the last few days. Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil took pleasure in tormenting the young 
 nobleman, and her glance, which had been so sweet
 
 THE CHOUANS 377 
 
 and velvety for the count, became stern and forbid- 
 ding when she chanced to meet the marquis's eyes. 
 Montauran seemed to make a painful effort to re- 
 strain his feelings, and said in a hollow voice : 
 
 " Will you never forgive me ? " 
 
 " Love," she replied coldly, "forgives nothing or 
 forgives everything. But," she added, as he made 
 a joyful gesture, " one must love." 
 
 She had taken the count's arm once more and 
 walked quickly to a boudoir adjoining the card room. 
 The marquis followed her. 
 
 " You must listen to me ! " he cried. 
 
 "You will cause it to be thought, monsieur," she 
 replied, " that I came here on your account and not 
 from respect for myself. If you do not cease this 
 hateful pursuit, I will retire." 
 
 " Very well," he said, remembering one of the 
 maddest freaks of the last Due de Lorraine, " let me 
 speak to you while I can hold this piece of charcoal 
 in my hand." 
 
 He stooped to the hearth, seized a burning brand 
 and grasped it tightly. Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 blushed, quickly released her arm from the count's 
 and gazed at the marquis in amazement. The count 
 softly withdrew and left the lovers alone. Such an 
 insane act made Marie's heart waver, for nothing is 
 more persuasive in love than courageous folly. 
 
 " You prove to me," she said, trying to make him 
 throw down the burning wood, " that you are will- 
 ing to subject me to the most cruel of all punish- 
 ments. You go to extremes in everything. On the
 
 378 THE CHOUANS 
 
 word of a fooi and the slander of a woman, you sus- 
 pected her who had just saved your life, of being 
 capable of selling you ! " 
 
 " Yes," he said, smiling, "I was cruel to you; 
 but forget it, for I shall never forget it. Listen to 
 me — 1 have been shamefully deceived, but so many 
 circumstances combined against you on that fatal 
 day—" 
 
 " And those circumstances were sufficient to ex- 
 tinguish your love ? " 
 
 He hesitated to reply, whereupon she made a dis- 
 dainful gesture and rose. 
 
 "Oh! Marie, now I will never believe that 
 you — " 
 
 " Throw away that fire ! You are mad. Open 
 your hand — I wish you to ! " 
 
 He playfully offered some slight resistance to his 
 mistress's gentle efforts, in order to prolong the keen 
 pleasure that he felt in the strong pressure of her 
 soft, slender fingers ; but she succeeded at last in 
 opening his hand, which she longed to kiss. The 
 blood had extinguished the flame. 
 
 " Well, what good did that do you ? " said she. 
 
 She tore her handkerchief into strips and bound 
 up the slight wound, which the marquis soon covered 
 with his glove. Madame du Gua stole into the card 
 room on tiptoe and cast furtive glances at the two 
 lovers, skilfully avoiding their eyes by leaning back 
 at their slightest movement ; but it was very diffi- 
 cult for her to make out what they were saying from 
 what she saw them doing.
 
 THE CHOUANS 379 
 
 " If everything that they told you about me 
 had been true, you must admit that I should be 
 amply avenged now ! " said Marie with a malevolent 
 expression that made the marquis turn pale. 
 
 " What motive was it, pray, that brought you 
 here ? " 
 
 " Why, my dear child, you are a very great fool. 
 Do you imagine that you can treat a woman like me 
 with contempt, and go unpunished ? — I came here 
 both on your account and on my own," she con- 
 tinued after a pause, putting her hand upon the 
 cluster of rubies at her breast and pointing to the 
 blade of her dagger. 
 
 " What does all that mean ? " thought Madame 
 du Gua. 
 
 " But," continued Marie, " you love me still. At 
 all events, you desire me still ; and the foolish thing 
 you have just done, "she added, taking his hand," has 
 proved it to me. I have become once more what 1 
 longed to be, and I go from here a happy woman. 
 The man who loves us is always absolved. As for 
 myself, I have the love, I have recovered the esteem 
 of the man who, in my eyes, represents the whole 
 world : I am ready to die." 
 
 " Then you still love me ? " said the marquis. 
 
 " Have I said that ? " she retorted mockingly, fol- 
 lowing with glee the progress of the frightful torture 
 she had compelled the marquis to undergo from the 
 moment of her arrival. " Was I not compelled to 
 make sacrifices in order to come here ? I saved 
 Monsieur de Bauvan from death, and he, more grate-
 
 38o THE CHOUANS 
 
 ful than you, offered me, in exchange for my protec- 
 tion, his fortune and his name. You never thought 
 of that." 
 
 The marquis, dazed by her last words, repressed 
 the most violent wrath that he had yet experienced, 
 believing that he had been duped by the count, and 
 made no reply. 
 
 " Ah ! you are reflecting ? " she continued with a 
 bitter smile. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," rejoined the young man, " your 
 suspicion justifies mine." *. 
 
 " Monsieur, let us go away from here ! " cried 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, as she caught sight of a 
 corner of Madame du Gua's dress. 
 
 She rose. But her longing to drive her rival 
 to despair made her hesitate about taking her 
 leave. 
 
 " Do you really wish to plunge me into hell .? " 
 demanded the marquis, taking her hand and squeez- 
 ing it violently. 
 
 " Didn't you do just that to me five days ago .? 
 At this very moment, do you not leave me in the 
 most cruel uncertainty concerning the sincerity of 
 your love ? " 
 
 " How do I know that you will not carry your 
 vengeance so far as to take possession of my whole 
 life, in order to cast shame upon it, instead of trying 
 to compass my death ? " 
 
 " Ah ! you don't love me : you think of yourself, 
 not of me ! " she exclaimed wildly, shedding a few 
 tears.
 
 THE CHOUANS 38 1 
 
 Well the coquette knew the power of her eyes 
 when they were swimming in tears. 
 
 " Oh ! take my life, " he said, beside himself with 
 passion, " but dry your eyes." 
 
 " O my love," she cried in a stifled voice, "those 
 are the words, the tone and the glance I have waited 
 for, before preferring your happiness to my own ! — 
 But, monsieur," she continued, " I demand one last 
 proof of your affection which, you say, is so great, 
 I can stay here only so long as is necessary to let it 
 be known that you are mine. I would not take so 
 much as a glass of water in the house where a 
 woman lives who has twice tried to kill me, who, 
 for aught I know, is still plotting some treachery 
 against us, and who, at this moment, is listening to 
 us," she added, pointing out to the marquis the 
 waving folds of Madame du Gua's dress. 
 
 Then she wiped her eyes, put her mouth to the 
 young man's ear, who shuddered as he felt the soft 
 moisture of her breath caressing him. 
 
 " Make everything ready for our departure," she 
 said; "you must escort me back to Fougeres, and 
 not till then will you know whether I love you ! 
 For the second time, 1 trust myself to you. Will 
 you trust yourself to me a second time ? " 
 
 " Ah ! Marie, you have brought me to the point 
 where I no longer know what I am doing ! 1 am in- 
 toxicated by your words, by your glances, by you, 
 in a word, and I am ready to do anything to gratify 
 you." 
 
 " Very well, make me, for a moment, as happy
 
 382 THE CHOUANS 
 
 as a queen ! Let me enjoy the only triumph 1 have 
 craved. I long to breathe freely in the life I have 
 dreamed of living, and to feed upon my illusions 
 before they vanish. So come and dance with me." 
 
 They returned together to the ball-room, and 
 although Mademoiselle de Verneuil was as completely 
 gratified in her heart and in her vanity as a woman 
 can be, the impenetrable sweetness of her eyes, 
 the pleased smile upon her lips, the rapid move- 
 ments of an animated dance, kept the secret of her 
 thoughts as the sea keeps that of a criminal who en- 
 trusts a heavy body to it. Nevertheless, a murmur 
 of admiration arose on all sides when she threw her- 
 self into her lover's arms to waltz, and they glided 
 over the floor in a voluptuous embrace, with lan- 
 guishing eyes and drooping heads, pressing each 
 other close in a sort of frenzy and revealing all the 
 pleasure that they anticipated from a more intimate 
 union. 
 
 "Count," said Madame du Gua to Monsieur de 
 Bauvan, " go and ascertain if Pille-Miche is in the 
 camp ; bring him to me ; and be assured that you 
 may demand from me, for that trifling service, what- 
 ever you wish, even my hand. — My revenge will 
 cost me dear," she said to herself as she watched 
 him move away; "but this time I shall not miss 
 it."
 
 A few moments after this scene, Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil and tlie marquis were on the back seat of a 
 berlin drawn by four strong horses. Surprised to 
 see those two supposed enemies hand in hand and 
 to find them in such perfect accord, Francine was 
 speechless, not daring to ask herself if it was perfidy 
 or love in her mistress's case. Thanks to her silence 
 and the darkness of the night, the marquis did not 
 notice Mademoiselle de Verneuil's agitation as they 
 approached Fougeres. In the first rays of dawn, 
 they espied the tower of Saint-Leonard in the dis- 
 tance. At that moment Marie said to herself : 
 
 " I am going to die ! " 
 
 At the first hill the two lovers had the same 
 thought: they alighted from the carriage and 
 climbed the hill on foot, as if in memory of their 
 first meeting. When Marie had taken the young 
 man's arm and walked a few steps, she thanked 
 him with a smile for having respected her silence ; 
 and when they reached the summit of the plateau 
 from which they could see Fougeres, she emerged 
 altogether from her reverie. 
 
 " Go no farther," she said; "my power would 
 not save you from the Blues to-day." 
 
 Montauran manifested some surprise ; she smiled 
 
 (383)
 
 384 THE CHOUANS 
 
 sadly, pointed to a block of granite as if to command 
 him to be seated, and she herself remained standing 
 in a melancholy attitude. The heart-rending emo- 
 tions by which she was torn made it impossible for 
 her to resort longer to the artifices of which she had 
 been so lavish. At that moment she would have 
 knelt upon burning coals, feeling them no more than 
 the marquis had felt the brand he seized to attest 
 the violence of his passion. After gazing long at her 
 lover Vk'ith an expression instinct with the most pro- 
 found grief, she uttered these frightful words : 
 
 " All that you suspected of me is true ! " 
 
 The marquis made a gesture. 
 
 "Ah! in pity's name," she said, clasping her 
 hands, "listen to me without interrupting me. — 1 
 am really," she continued in a voice trembling with 
 emotion, "the daughter of the Due de Verneuil, but 
 a natural daughter. My mother, a Mademoiselle de 
 Casteran, who took the veil to escape the tortures 
 that were being made ready for her in her family, 
 expiated her fault by fifteen years of weeping, and 
 died at Seez. Not until she was on her deathbed 
 did the pious abbess implore help for me from the 
 man who had deserted her ; for she knew that I was 
 without friends, without means, without prospects. 
 — That man, always remembered under the roof of 
 Francine's mother, in whose care I had been placed, 
 had forgotten his child. Nevertheless the duke was 
 glad to receive me, and acknowledged me, because I 
 was beautiful and perhaps because I reminded him 
 of his own youth. He was one of those noblemen
 
 THE CHOUANS 385 
 
 who, under the last reign, gloried in showing how 
 easily a man can obtain forgiveness for a crime by 
 committing it gracefully. I will say no more ; he 
 was my father ! Let me explain to you, however, 
 how well adapted my life in Paris was to corrupt my 
 heart. The Due de Verneuil's social circle and that 
 to which he introduced me were saturated with the 
 sneering philosophy which aroused France to en- 
 thusiasm because its doctrines were always put for- 
 ward with abundance of wit. The brilliant conver- 
 sation that delighted my ears attracted me by the 
 keenness of the rapid sketches of men and things or 
 by a disdain cleverly expressed for whatever was 
 devout and true. The men, sneering at the 
 sentiments, described them better in that they 
 did not feel them ; and they charmed me as 
 much by their epigrammatic expressions as by the 
 easy grace with which they could describe a whole 
 adventure in a single word ; but they often sinned 
 by having too much wit, and fatigued the women 
 by making love an art rather than an affair of the 
 heart. I made a feeble resistance to the torrent. 
 My heart however — pardon my pride — was passion- 
 ate enough to feel that wit had withered all their 
 hearts ; but the life I led resulted in establishing a 
 perpetual struggle between my natural impulses and 
 the vicious habits 1 had contracted there. Some 
 superior minds had amused themselves by develop- 
 ing in me that freedom of thought, that contempt for 
 public opinion which deprive a woman of a certain 
 modesty of mind without which she loses her charm. 
 25
 
 386 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Alas ! misfortune could not overcome the defects 
 that opulence bred in me. — My father," she con- 
 tinued, after pausing to utter a sigh, "the Due de 
 Verneuil, died after acknowledging me as his daugh- 
 ter and providing for me by a will which consider- 
 ably diminished the fortune of my brother, his 
 legitimate son. I found myself one morning without 
 shelter or protector. My brother attacked the will 
 that enriched me. Three years passed with a 
 wealthy family had developed my vanity. By 
 gratifying all my whims, my father had created in 
 me a need of luxurious living and habits of which 
 my mind, still young and innocent, did not pause to 
 consider the dangers or the tyranny, A friend of 
 my father, the Marechal Due de Lenoncourt, a man 
 of seventy, offered to be my guardian. 1 accepted 
 his offer ; a few days after the beginning of that 
 hateful lawsuit, I found myself once more in a fine 
 house where I enjoyed all the advantages that a 
 brother's cruelty denied me at our father's coffin. 
 Every evening the old marshal passed a few hours 
 with me, and during those hours I never heard aught 
 but gentle and comforting words from him. His 
 white hair and all the touching proofs he gave me of 
 a paternal affection, led me to pour out upon his 
 heart the sentiments of my own, and 1 took pleasure 
 in imagining myself his daughter. I accepted the 
 gifts he offered and I concealed none of my whims 
 from him when I saw how pleased he was to gratify 
 them. One evening 1 learned that all Paris believed 
 that I was that poor old man's mistress. They
 
 THE CHOUANS 387 
 
 proved to me that it was out of my power to recover 
 a reputation for innocence which every one gratui- 
 tously denied me. The man who had abused my 
 inexperience could not be my lover and would not 
 be my husband. During the week in which I made 
 this horrible discovery, on the eve of the day fixed 
 for my union with him whose name I had demanded 
 that he confer upon me as the only reparation he 
 could offer me, he started for Coblentz. I was 
 driven away in disgrace from the house in which 
 the marshal had placed me and which did not belong 
 to him. Thus far I have told you the whole truth 
 as if I were before God ; but now, do not ask an 
 unfortunate girl to revive sorrows that are buried in 
 her memory. One day, monsieur, I found myself 
 married to Danton. Some days later the tempest 
 uprooted the great oak around which I had wound 
 my arms. Finding myself plunged once more into 
 the most profound destitution, I resolved that time 
 to die. I cannot say whether love of life, the hope 
 of tiring out misfortune and of finding, at the bottom 
 of that bottomless abyss, the happiness that eluded 
 me, advised me without my knowledge, or whether 
 I was seduced by the arguments of a young man 
 from Vendome who attached himself to me two 
 years ago, like a serpent to a tree, thinking, I have 
 no doubt, that some supreme disaster may throw 
 me into his arms ; at all events, I accepted — I know 
 not how I could have done it — the degrading mission 
 of winning the love of a stranger and betraying him 
 to the authorities, for which I was to receive three
 
 388 THE CHOUANS 
 
 hundred thousand francs. I saw you, monsieur, 
 and 1 recognized you at once by one of those pre- 
 sentiments which never deceive us ; however, 1 pre- 
 ferred to doubt, for the more 1 loved you the more 
 the certainty terrified me. When I saved you from 
 Commandant Hulot's hands, I abjured my role and 
 resolved to deceive the executioners instead of de- 
 ceiving their victim. I was wrong to make play- 
 things thus of men, of their lives and their designs, 
 and of myself, with the recklessness of a girl who 
 sees naught but sentiment in the world. I believed 
 that you loved me and 1 gave way to the hope of 
 beginning my life anew ; but everything, even to 
 myself perhaps, tended to betray my past disorders, 
 for you must have been suspicious of a v/oman so 
 passionate as I. Alas ! who would not forgive both 
 my love and my dissimulation .-* Yes, monsieur, it 
 seemed to me as if I had had a horrible dream, and 
 on awakening I found myself sixteen years old once 
 more. Was I not in Alencon where the pure, chaste 
 memories of my childhood came back to me? I was 
 mad and simple enough to believe that love would 
 baptize me with innocence. For a moment I thought 
 that I was still a virgin, as I had never loved before. 
 But last night your passion seemed to me to be 
 genuine, and a voice cried out to me : ' Why deceive 
 him ? ' Understand then, monsieur le marquis," 
 she continued, in a hoarse voice that haughtily in- 
 vited reproach, '* understand that I am a dishonored 
 creature, unworthy of you. From this moment I 
 resume my role of profligate, worn out as I am by
 
 THE CHOUANS 389 
 
 playing the part of a woman to whom you have 
 restored all the sanctity of love. Virtue weighs 
 upon me. I should despise you if you were weak 
 enough to marry me. It is a folly that a Comte de 
 Bauvan might commit ; but do you, monsieur, be 
 worthy of your future and part from me without 
 regret. The courtesan, you see, would be too ex- 
 acting ; she would love you in a different way from 
 the simple, artless girl, who has felt for a moment 
 in her heart the hope of being able to be your com- 
 panion, of making you happy all your life, of doing 
 you honor, of becoming a grand, noble-hearted wife, 
 and who has derived from that hope the courage to 
 reanimate her evil nature, tainted with vice and 
 infamy, in order to place an everlasting barrier be- 
 tween you and herself. I sacrifice honor and fortune 
 to you. The pride I feel in this sacrifice will sustain 
 me in my misery, and destiny may deal with me at 
 its pleasure. I will never betray you. I return to 
 Paris. There your name will be to me like another 
 myself and the renown with which you will sur- 
 round it will console me for all my sorrows. As for 
 you, you are a man, you will forget me. — Adieu." 
 She darted away in the direction of the valley of 
 Saint-Sulpice, and disappeared before the marquis 
 had risen to detain her ; but she retraced her steps, 
 hid in a cavity among the rocks, raised her head, 
 scrutinized the marquis with an expression of in- 
 terest mingled with doubt, and saw him walk away 
 like one overwhelmed, as if he had no idea where 
 he was going.
 
 390 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Can it be that he is weak ? " she said to herself 
 when he disappeared, and she felt that she was 
 parted from him. " Will he understand me ? " 
 
 She shuddered. Suddenly she started off alone at 
 a swift pace toward Foug^res, as if she feared that 
 the marquis would follow her to that town, where 
 he would have found death awaiting him. 
 
 " Well, Francine, what did he say to you ? " she 
 asked the faithful Breton girl, when they were to- 
 gether once more. 
 
 "Alas! Marie, I pitied him. You great ladies 
 stab a man with your tongues." 
 
 " How did he seem when he spoke to you ? " 
 
 " Do you think he saw me ? — O Marie, he loves 
 you!" 
 
 " Oh ! he loves me or he does not love me ! " she 
 replied, " paradise or hell for me. Between those 
 two extremes 1 see no place where 1 can put my 
 foot." 
 
 Having thus accomplished her terrible destiny, 
 Marie could abandon herself freely to her grief, and 
 her features, thus far steadied by so many diverse 
 sentiments, changed so rapidly that, after a day 
 during which she had fluctuated constantly between 
 a foreshadowing of happiness and dire despair, her 
 beauty lost its brilliancy and freshness, the source 
 of which is found in the absence of all passion or in 
 the intoxication of joy. Curious to learn the result 
 of her rash undertaking, Hulot and Corentin called 
 upon Marie a short time after her return : she re- 
 ceived them with a smiling face.
 
 THE CHOUANS 391 
 
 "Well," she said to the commandant, whose 
 thoughtful features wore a very inquisitive expres- 
 sion, " the fox is returning within gunshot and you 
 will soon win a glorious victory." 
 
 "What has happened?" asked Corentin care- 
 lessly, bestowing upon Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 one of the sidelong glances by which diplomatists of 
 his class spy upon the mind. 
 
 "Ah!" she replied, "the Gars is more than 
 ever enamored of my person and I compelled him to 
 accompany us to the gates of Fougeres." 
 
 "It seems that your power ceased there," re- 
 joined Corentin, " and that the ci-devant' s fear still 
 surpasses the love you have inspired in him." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil cast a scornful glance at 
 Corentin. 
 
 " You judge him by yourself," she retorted. 
 
 "Well, then," said he, unmoved, "why didn't 
 you bring him here to your apartments .'' " 
 
 " If he really loved me, commandant," she said 
 to Hulot, with a mischievous glance at him, " would 
 you blame me much for saving him by taking him 
 away from France ? " 
 
 The old soldier walked quickly to her and took 
 her hand to kiss it with something very like 
 enthusiasm ; then he gazed fixedly at her and said 
 with a sombre expression : 
 
 "You forget my two friends and my sixty-three 
 men!" 
 
 " Ah ! commandant," she said with all the art- 
 lessness of passion, " he is not accountable for them,
 
 392 THE CHOUANS 
 
 he was deceived by a vile woman, Charette's mis- 
 tress, who would drink the blood of a Blue, 1 verily 
 believe." 
 
 "Come, Marie," interposed Corentin, "don't 
 make fun of the commandant, he's not used to your 
 pleasantry." 
 
 "Be quiet," she replied, "and remember that 
 the day on which you annoy me a little too much 
 will have no to-morrow for you." 
 
 " 1 see, mademoiselle," said Hulot without bitter- 
 ness, " that 1 must get ready to fight." 
 
 "You are not in condition to do it, my dear 
 colonel. I saw more than six thousand men at 
 Saint- James, regular troops, artillery and English 
 officers. But what would become of these people 
 without him ? I believe with Fouche that his head 
 is everything." 
 
 " Well, shall we have him ? " demanded Corentin 
 impatiently. 
 
 " I don't know," she replied with assumed in- 
 difference. 
 
 "Englishmen!" cried Hulot indignantly, "he 
 needed only that to be a finished brigand ! Ah ! I'll 
 give you Englishmen ! It seems, citizen diplomat, 
 that you allow yourself to be routed periodically by 
 that young woman," said Hulot to Corentin, when 
 they were a few steps from the house, 
 
 " It is quite natural, citizen commandant," rejoined 
 Corentin pensively, "that in all that she has said 
 to us, you should see nothing but fire. You soldiers 
 are not aware that there are several ways of making
 
 THE CHOUANS 393 
 
 war. To make skilful use of the passions of men or 
 women as of springs which one works to the advan- 
 tage of the State, to put all the parts of the great 
 machine we call government in their proper places, 
 and to amuse one's self by attaching thereto the 
 most unconquerable sentiments like hair-triggers 
 which it is exciting to watch — is not that to create, 
 and, like God, to take one's place in the centre of 
 the universe ? " 
 
 "You will permit me to prefer my trade to 
 yours," rejoined the soldier dryly. "You can do 
 what you please with your machinery ; but I know 
 no other superior than the minister of war ; I have 
 my orders, I am going to take the field with com- 
 rades who don't hang back, and who attack the 
 enemy in front that you want to seize from behind." 
 
 " Oh ! you can make ready to march," said Co- 
 rentin. " From what that girl allowed me to gather 
 from her talk, however impenetrable she seems to 
 you, you are going to have a skirmish, and I will 
 obtain for you before long the pleasure of a tete-a-tete 
 with the leader of these brigands." 
 
 " How so ? " queried Hulot, stepping back in 
 order to have a better view of that extraordinary 
 personage. 
 
 '•' Mademoiselle de Verneuil loves the Gars," Co- 
 rentin replied in a hollow voice, "and it may be 
 that he loves her ! A marquis, with the red ribbon, 
 young and clever, and still rich, for aught we know. 
 — what a combination of te-mptations ! She would 
 be a great fool not to act on her own account, and
 
 394 THE CHOUANS 
 
 try to marry him instead of betraying him to us ! 
 She is trying to fool us. But I read in her eyes 
 some hesitation. The lovers will probably arrange 
 a meeting, and perhaps it is already arranged. Well, 
 to-morrow, I shall have my man by both ears. 
 Until now he was only the enemy of the Republic, 
 but he has become my private enemy within a few 
 moments ; now, they who have undertai<en to put 
 themselves between that young woman and myself 
 have all died on the scaffold." 
 
 With that Corentin relapsed into such deep thought 
 that he did not see the profound disgust depicted 
 on the loyal soldier's features when he discovered 
 the full depth of the intrigue and the mechanism of 
 the springs worked by Fouche. He determined to 
 foil Corentin in everything that would not essen- 
 tially interfere with the aims and the success of the 
 government, and to afford the enemy of the Repub- 
 lic the means of meeting death honorably, arms in 
 hand, instead of falling a victim to the executioner 
 whose purveyor this hired assassin of the secret 
 police acknowledged that he was. 
 
 " If the First Consul would listen to me," he said, 
 turning his back on Corentin, " he would leave 
 these foxes to fight the aristocrats — they are worthy 
 of each other — and would employ his soldiers on 
 other business." 
 
 Corentin glanced coldly at the soldier, whose face 
 was lighted up by that thought, and his eyes took 
 on an ironical expression that made manifest the 
 superior shrewdness of this subordinate Machiavelli.
 
 THE CHOUANS 395 
 
 " Give these creatures three ells of blue cloth and 
 hang a bit of steel at their side," he said to himself, 
 " and they fancy that even in politics men are to be 
 killed in only one way." 
 
 He walked along slowly for a few moments, then 
 suddenly said to himself : 
 
 "Yes, the time has come, that woman shall be 
 mine ! For five years the circle I have drawn about 
 her has insensibly narrowed, I have her now, and 
 with her I shall rise as high in the government as 
 Fouche. Yes, if she destroys the only man she has 
 ever loved, grief will deliver her to me, body and 
 soul. All I have to do is to watch night and day 
 until I discover her secret." 
 
 A moment later an observer would have dis- 
 tinguished his pale face through the window of a 
 house from which he could see everybody who en- 
 tered the blind alley formed by the row of houses 
 parallel to Saint-Leonard's church. With the pa- 
 tience of a cat watching a mouse, Corentin was 
 still there the next morning, quick to notice the 
 slightest noise and busily occupied in subjecting 
 every passer-by to the severest scrutiny. The day 
 just beginning was a market-day. Although, in 
 those calamitous times, the peasants rarely ventured 
 to visit the town, Corentin saw one man with low- 
 ering face, dressed in goatskin, who carried on his 
 arm a small, round, flat basket, walking toward 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil's house, after glancing 
 about with apparent indifference. Corentin went 
 down, intending to wait for the peasant to come out ;
 
 396 THE CHOUANS 
 
 but it suddenly occurred to him that, if he could come 
 upon Mademoiselle de Verneuil unexpectedly, he 
 might surprise at a single glance the secrets hidden 
 in the messenger's basket. Moreover he knew from 
 common report that it was almost impossible to con- 
 tend successfully with the impenetrable responses 
 of Bretons and Normans. 
 
 " Galope-Chopine ! " cried Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil when Francine ushered in the Chouan. " Can 
 it be that he loves me in spite of all ? " she said to 
 herself in a low voice. 
 
 An instinctive hope caused her cheeks to flush 
 brilliantly and a wave of joy to flow through her 
 heart. Galope-Chopine looked from the mistress 
 of the house to Francine, eyeing the latter with sus- 
 picion ; but a gesture from Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 reassured him. 
 
 "Madame," he said, *' he will be at my house 
 about two o'clock and will wait for you there." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil's emotion permitted her 
 to make no other reply than an inclination of the 
 head, but a Samoy^de would have understood her 
 meaning. At that moment Corentin's steps were 
 heard in the salon. Galope-Chopine was not dis- 
 turbed in the slightest degree when Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil's expression as well as the sudden start she 
 gave, warned him of danger, and as soon as the spy 
 showed his crafty face, the Chouan raised his voice 
 to an ear-splitting pitch. 
 
 " Aha ! " he said to Francine, "there's Bretagne 
 butter and Bretagne butter. You want it from Gi-
 
 THE CHOUANS 397 
 
 barry and you won't give but eleven sous a pound, 
 eh ? then you needn't have sent for me ! It's good 
 butter, that," he said, uncovering his basket to show 
 two little pats of butter of Barbette's make. — " Fair 
 play, my good lady, come, put on another sou." 
 
 His cavernous voice betrayed no emotion, and his 
 green eyes, shaded by great grizzled eyebrows, 
 sustained Corentin's piercing glance without falter- 
 ing. 
 
 " Nonsense, hold your tongue, goodman, you 
 didn't come here to sell butter, for you're dealing 
 with a woman who never haggled about the price of 
 anything in her life. The trade you're following, 
 old fellow, will make you a head shorter than you 
 are, some day." 
 
 He added, putting his hand amicably on his 
 shoulder : 
 
 "You can't be both a Chouan and a Blue very 
 long, you know." 
 
 Galope-Chopine needed all his presence of mind 
 to restrain his rage and not repel that accusation, to 
 which his avarice made him fairly liable. He con- 
 tented himself with this reply : 
 
 " Monsieur is making fun of me." 
 
 Corentin had turned his back on the Chouan ; 
 but as he saluted Mademoiselle de Verneuil, whose 
 heart sank within her, he could readily watch him 
 in the mirror. Galope-Chopine, who thought that 
 the spy's eye was no longer upon him, consulted 
 Francine with a glance, and Francine pointed to the 
 door, saying :
 
 398 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Come with me, goodman, and we will arrange 
 it." 
 
 Nothing had escaped Corentin, neither the con- 
 traction of the features, which Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil's smile ill disguised, nor the flush on her cheeks 
 and her changed expression, nor the Chouan's dis- 
 quietude, nor Francine's gesture — he had noticed 
 everything. Convinced that Galope-Chopine was 
 an emissary of the marquis, he caught him by the 
 long hairs of his goatskin just as he was leaving the 
 room, turned him around until they were face to 
 face, and gazed fixedly at him, saying : 
 
 ** Where do you live, my dear friend? 1 need 
 some butter — " 
 
 "My good monsieur," the Chouan replied, "all 
 Fougeres knows where I live, 1 am almost — " 
 
 " Corentin ! " exclaimed Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil, interrupting Galope-Chopine's reply, "you 
 are very insolent to come to my apartments at this 
 hour and surprise me in this way ! I am hardly 
 dressed. Let that peasant alone, he doesn't under- 
 stand your cunning any more than 1 understand its 
 motive. — Go on, my good man ! " 
 
 Galope-Chopine hesitated a moment before going. 
 The natural or feigned indecision of a poor devil who 
 did not know whom to obey, was beginning to im- 
 pose upon Corentin, when the Chouan, at an 
 imperative gesture from the young woman, left the 
 room with heavy steps. Thereupon Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil and Corentin gazed at each other in 
 silence. But Marie's limpid eyes could not sustain
 
 THE CHOUANS 399 
 
 the fiery gleam distilled by the man's look. The 
 resolute air with which the spy forced his way into 
 her room, the, to Marie, unfamiliar expression on 
 his face, the deadened sound of his shrill voice, his 
 bearing, everything combined to terrify her : she 
 realized that a secret conflict was about to begin be- 
 tween them, and that he would put forth against her 
 all the powers of his sinister influence ; but, although 
 she had at that moment a distinct and complete view 
 of the abyss into which she was plunging, she 
 gathered strength from her love to shake off the 
 glacial chill of her presentiments. 
 
 " Corentin," she said, with an attempt at gayety 
 of manner, " I trust that you will allow me to make 
 my toilet." 
 
 " Marie," said he — " yes, allow me to call you by 
 that name — you do not know me yet ! Look you, a 
 less keen-sighted man than 1 am would have discov- 
 ered before now your love for the Marquis de Mon- 
 tauran. I have offered you several times both my 
 heart and my hand. You have not deemed me 
 worthy of you, and perhaps you are right ; but if 
 you think that you are of too high rank, too beauti- 
 ful or too grand for me, I shall find a way to bring 
 you down to my level. My ambition and my 
 maxims have given you little esteem for me ; and, 
 frankly, you are wrong. Men are not worth what 
 I value them at, and that is almost nothing. I shall 
 certainly reach a high position, the honors attaching 
 to which will flatter your vanity. Who will be 
 better able to love you, who will leave you more
 
 400 THE CHOUANS 
 
 absolutely mistress of yourself than the man who 
 has loved you for five years past ? Although ! run 
 the risk of causing you to form an unfavorable idea 
 of me, for you cannot conceive that a man may re- 
 nounce through excess of love the woman he idol- 
 izes, I propose to give you the measure of the unself- 
 ishness of my adoration of you. Don't shake your 
 pretty head in that way. If the marquis loves you, 
 marry him ; but, in the first place, be very sure of 
 his sincerity. I should be in despair to know that 
 you were deceived, for 1 prefer your happiness to 
 my own. My resolution may surprise you, but you 
 must attribute it to the prudence of a man who is 
 not foolish enough to want to possess a woman in 
 spite of her. And so 1 blame myself, not you, for 
 the uselessness of my efforts. I have hoped to 
 conquer you by my submissiveness and devotion, 
 for I have been trying for a long time, as you know, 
 to make you happy according to my lights ; but you 
 have refused to reward me for anything I have done." 
 
 " I have endured you near me," she said haugh- 
 tily. 
 
 " Say further that you repent it." 
 
 " After the infamous undertaking in which you 
 have involved me, ought I still to thank you ? " 
 
 " When I suggested to you an enterprise that was 
 not without drawbacks to timorous minds," he re- 
 plied audaciously, "I had only your interests in 
 view. For my own part, whether I succeed or fail, 
 I shall be able now to make any result contribute to 
 the success of my plans. If you were to marry
 
 THE CHOUANS 4OI 
 
 Montauran, 1 should be delighted to make myself of 
 use to the cause of the Bourbons, in Paris, where I 
 am a member of the Clichy Club. Now, any cir- 
 cumstance that should put me in correspondence with 
 the princes would induce me to abandon the interests 
 of a Republic which is marching fast to its ruin. 
 General Bonaparte is too clever a man not to feel 
 that it is impossible for him to be at one and the 
 same time in Germany, in Italy, and here, where 
 the Revolution is going to pieces. He brought about 
 the i8th Brumaire, I have no doubt, in order to ob- 
 tain better terms from the Bourbons when negotia- 
 ting with them concerning France, for he is a very 
 shrewd fellow and doesn't lack breadth of vision ; 
 but clever politicians ought to obtain the start of him 
 in the road he has taken. To betray France is one 
 of the scruples that we superior men leave to fools. 
 1 do not conceal from you that I have the necessary 
 powers to enter into negotiations with the leaders of 
 the Chouans as well as to put them to death ; for 
 Fouche, my principal, is a deep man, he has always 
 played a double game ; during the Terror, he was 
 for both Robespierre and Danton — " 
 
 '• Whom you abandoned like a coward ! " she in- 
 terposed. 
 
 " Nonsense," rejoined Corentin ; " he is dead, 
 forget him. Come, speak frankly to me, 1 set you 
 the example. This demi-brigade commander is more 
 cunning than he seems, and if you want to evade 
 his watchfulness, I could be of some use to you. 
 Remember that he has filled the valleys with con- 
 26
 
 402 THE CHOUANS 
 
 tre-Chouans and would very soon discover your 
 meetings. If you remain here, under his eyes, you 
 are at the mercy of his police. See how quickly he 
 learned that that Chouan was at your house ! Must 
 not his military sagacity suggest to him that your 
 slightest movements will indicate those of the mar- 
 quis, if he loves you ? " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil had never heard a voice 
 so soft and affectionate ; Corentin was all good faith, 
 and seemed to trust her completely. The poor girl's 
 heart was so ready to receive generous impressions, 
 that she was on the point of disclosing her secret to 
 the serpent that was enveloping her in its folds ; 
 she reflected, however, that she had no proof of the 
 sincerity of his artificial words, so she had no scruple 
 about deceiving her spy. 
 
 "Well," she replied, "you have guessed the 
 truth, Corentin. Yes, I love the marquis ; but he 
 does not love me I at least, I fear so ; and so the 
 appointment he has made with me seems to me to 
 conceal some snare." 
 
 " But you told us yesterday," rejoined Corentin, 
 *' that he came with you as far as Fougeres. If he 
 had chosen to use force upon you, you would not be 
 here." 
 
 " Your heart is withered, Corentin. You can 
 devise shrewd combinations upon the incidents of 
 human life, but not upon those of a passion. That 
 perhaps is the explanation of the constant repugnance 
 you inspire in me. As you are so clear-sighted, try 
 to understand how a man from whom I tore myself
 
 THE CHOUANS 403 
 
 away on the day before yesterday will be waiting 
 impatiently for me to-day, toward evening, in a 
 house at Florigny on the Mayenne road." 
 
 At that avowal, which seemed to have escaped 
 the outspoken, passionate creature in a natural out- 
 burst of feeling, Corentin blushed, for he was still 
 young ; but he cast upon her, by stealth, one of 
 those piercing glances that seek to read the mind. 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil's naivete was so well 
 played that she deceived the' spy, and he answered 
 with assumed good humor : 
 
 " Would you like me to follow you at a distance ? 
 1 should have some soldiers with me in disguise, and 
 we would be ready to do your bidding." 
 
 " I agree," said she ; " but promise me upon 
 your honor — Oh ! no, I don't trust that ! — by your 
 salvation, but you don't believe in God ! — by your 
 soul, but perhaps you haven't one ! What assurance 
 can you give me of your fidelity ? And yet I trust 
 myself to you, and I place in your hands more than 
 my life — either my love or my revenge ! " 
 
 The slight smile that played over Corentin's pale 
 face afforded Mademoiselle de Verneuil a glimpse of 
 the peril she had avoided. The spy, whose nostrils 
 contracted instead of dilating, took his victim's hand, 
 kissed it with marks of the most profound respect, 
 and left her with a salute that was not devoid of 
 grace. 
 
 Three hours after this scene. Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil, fearing that Corentin might return, left 
 the town secretly by Porte Saint-Leonard, and found
 
 404 THE CHOUANS 
 
 her way to the narrow path leading from the Nid- 
 aux-Crocs to the valley of the Nanfon. She be- 
 lieved that she was safe, walking without witnesses 
 through the labyrinth of paths that led to Galope- 
 Chopine's hovel, whither she bent her steps joy- 
 ously, guided by the hope of finding happiness at 
 last and by the desire to save her lover from the 
 fate by which he was threatened. 
 
 Meanwhile Corentin was in search of the com- 
 mandant. He had some difficulty in recognizing 
 Hulot when he found him on a small square where 
 he was attending to some military preparations. In 
 fact, the gallant veteran had made a sacrifice, the ex- 
 tent of which will hardly be appreciated. His cue 
 and his moustaches were cut, and his hair, having 
 been subjected to the ecclesiastical regime, had a 
 touch of powder. With clumsy hob-nailed shoes on 
 his feet, his old blue uniform and his sword ex- 
 changed for a suit of goatskin, armed with a heavy 
 carbine and with pistols in his belt, he was review- 
 ing two hundred natives of Foug^res, whose 
 costumes might have deceived the eye of the most 
 experienced Chouan. The warlike spirit of the little 
 town and the Breton character were alike displayed 
 in this scene, which was not an unusual one. Here 
 and there a mother or a sister brought her son or her 
 brother a flask of eau-de-vie, or a pair of pistols he 
 had forgotten. Several old men were investigating 
 the number and quality of the cartridges of these 
 National Guardsmen disguised as contre-Chouans, 
 whose high spirits indicated that they were bound
 
 THE CHOUANS 405 
 
 for a hunting party rather than a perilous expedi- 
 tion. To their minds the engagements with the 
 Chouans, in which the Bretons of the towns fought 
 with the Bretons of the country, replaced the 
 tournaments of the days of chivalry. It may be 
 that their patriotic enthusiasm was based upon some 
 investments in national property. Nevertheless the 
 benefits of the Revolution, which were better appre- 
 ciated in the towns, party spirit, a certain national 
 fondness for war, were also the moving causes of 
 this ardor in many instances. 
 
 Hulot, wondering greatly, passed through the 
 ranks, asking information of Gudin, to whom he had 
 transferred all the friendly feeling he had formerly 
 bestowed upon Merle and Gerard. A large number 
 of the inhabitants were watching the preparations 
 for the expedition, comparing the set-up of their 
 noisy compatriots to that of a company of Hulot's 
 demi-brigade. Standing motionless and silent, in 
 perfect order, the Blues, under the orders of their 
 officers, awaited the commandant's word, while 
 every soldier's eye followed him from group to group. 
 As he approached the old officer, Corentin could not 
 help smiling at the change in his face. He had the 
 effect of a portrait that does not resemble its sub- 
 ject. 
 
 " What is there new ? " Corentin asked. 
 
 " Come and take a shot with us and you'll find 
 out," replied the commandant. 
 
 " Oh ! I'm not a Fougeres man," rejoined Coren- 
 tin.
 
 406 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " That's easy to see, citizen," said Gudin. 
 
 Some mocking laughter arose from all the neigh- 
 boring groups. 
 
 "Do you think," retorted Corentin, "that the 
 only way to serve France is with bayonets ? " 
 
 Then he turned his back on the scoffers and ap- 
 plied to a woman to ascertain the purpose and desti- 
 nation of the expedition. 
 
 " Alas ! goodman, the Chouans are already at Flo- 
 rigny ! They say there are more than three thousand 
 of them and they're coming to take Fougeres." 
 
 " Florigny ! " exclaimed Corentin, turning pale. — 
 " The appointment wasn't there ! Do you mean 
 Florigny on the Mayenne road ? " he continued. 
 
 " There's only one Florigny," replied the woman, 
 pointing to the road that ended on the summit of La 
 Pelerine. 
 
 "Are you after the Marquis de Montauran .? " 
 Corentin asked the commandant. 
 
 " Partly," replied Hulot roughly. 
 
 " He is not at Florigny," rejoined Corentin. 
 " Direct your battalion and the National Guard upon 
 that point ; but keep some of your contre-Chouans 
 with you and wait for me." 
 
 " He's too cunning to be a fool ! " exclaimed the 
 commandant, as he watched Corentin striding away. 
 " He's the king of spies ! " 
 
 The next moment he gave the order for his bat- 
 talion to move. The Republican troops marched 
 silently, without drums, through the narrow suburb 
 leading to the Mayenne road, making a long red and
 
 THE CHOUANS 407 
 
 blue line among the trees and houses ; the disguised 
 National Guardsmen followed them ; but Hulot re- 
 mained on the little square with Gudin and a score 
 of the most intelligent young men of the town, 
 awaiting Corentin, whose mysterious manner had 
 aroused his curiosity. 
 
 Francine herself informed the quick-witted spy of 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil's departure, whereupon, 
 all his suspicions changed to certainty, and he 
 set out at once to gather information concerning a 
 flight which he looked upon, and with good reason, 
 as highly suspicious. Being informed by the 
 soldiers on guard at the Saint-Leonard post, of the 
 fair stranger's leaving the town by way of the Nid- 
 aux-Crocs, Corentin hurried to the Promenade, 
 and arrived there unfortunately just in time to 
 watch Marie's every movement. Athough she had 
 put on a green dress and capote in order to be seen 
 less readily, her almost insane antics made it an 
 easy matter to distinguish' the point toward which 
 her steps were bent, through the leafless hedges 
 white with hoar-frost. 
 
 " Aha ! " he cried, " you were to go to Florigny 
 and you are going down into the Val de Gibarry ! 
 — 1 am a mere booby, she fooled me completely. 
 But patience, I keep my lamp lighted by day as well 
 as by night." 
 
 Thereupon, almost certain of the place at which 
 the lovers were to meet, Corentin hurried back to 
 the square just as Hulot was on the point of leaving 
 it to overtake his troops.
 
 408 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Halt, general ! " he cried to the commandant, 
 who at once turned. 
 
 In an instant Corentin informed Hulot of the 
 events, whose woof, although hidden, allowed some 
 of its threads to be seen ; and Hulot, impressed by 
 the diplomat's sagacity, grasped his arm : 
 
 "A thousand devils! you are right, inquisitive 
 citizen. The brigands are making a false attack 
 over yonder ! The two flying columns that I sent out 
 to investigate the neighborhood, between the Antrain 
 and Vitre roads haven't yet returned ; so we shall 
 find reinforcements in the fields who will be useful 
 to us, I doubt not, for the Gars isn't fool enough to 
 risk a fight unless he has his cursed screech-owls 
 with him. — Gudin," he said to the young Fougerais, 
 " run and tell Captain Lebrun that he can do with- 
 out me at Florigny to have a brush with the 
 brigands there, and come back as fast as you can. 
 You know the paths ; I will wait for you before 
 starting out to hunt the ci-devant and avenge the 
 murders at La Viveti^re. — Tonjurre de Dieu! how 
 he runs ! " he added, looking after Gudin, who dis- 
 appeared as if by magic. " How Gerard would 
 have liked that fellow ! "
 
 On his return, Gudin found Hulot's little troop 
 increased by some few men taken from the different 
 posts in the town. The commandant bade the 
 young Fougerais select a dozen of his fellows, those 
 most expert in the difficult trade of contre-Chouan, 
 and to leave the town by Porte Saint-Leonard, in 
 order to skirt the rear slope of the mountains of Saint- 
 Sulpice, which overlooks the main valley of Coues- 
 non, and upon which Galope-Chopine's cabin was 
 situated ; then he put himself at the head of the rest 
 of his troop and marched out through Porte Saint- 
 Sulpice, the most direct route to the summit of the 
 mountains, where, according to his reckoning, he 
 should fmd Beau-Pied's detachment, whom he pro- 
 posed to employ to strengthen a cordon of sentinels 
 so posted as to guard the cliffs from Faubourg Saint- 
 Sulpice to the Nid-aux-Crocs. 
 
 Corentin, assured that he had committed the fate 
 of the leader of the Chouans to the hands of his 
 most implacable foes, speedily betook himself to the 
 Promenade the better to grasp Hulot's military dis- 
 positions in their entirety. He soon descried Gudin's 
 little squad debouching through the valley of the 
 Nangon and following the cliffs in the direction of 
 
 the broad valley of Couesnon, while Hulot, skirting 
 
 (409)
 
 410 THE CHOUANS 
 
 the chateau of Foug^res, climbed the perilous path 
 leading to the summit of the mountains of Saint- 
 Sulpice. Thus the two detachments advanced on 
 parallel lines. All the trees and shrubs, decorated 
 by the hoar-frost with rich arabesques, cast a white 
 reflection, which enabled one to see distinctly the 
 two tiny army corps moving along like gray lines. 
 When he reached the plateau, Hulot detached from 
 his troop all the soldiers in uniform, and Corentin 
 saw them, in obedience to the shrewd commandant, 
 form a line of sentinels at convenient distances, the 
 first of whom was within speaking distance of Gudin 
 and the last, of Hulot, so that no bush could elude 
 the bayonets of those three moving lines, which 
 were about to follow the scent of the Gars across 
 the mountains and fields. 
 
 " The old guard-house wolf is a crafty fellow ! " 
 cried Corentin, as he lost sight of the last musket 
 barrels gleaming among the clumps of broom ; " the 
 Gars is done for. If Marie had betrayed the damned 
 marquis, she and I would have been united by the 
 strongest of bonds, an infamous action — But she 
 shall be mine ! " 
 
 The twelve young Fougerais, commanded by sub- 
 lieutenant Gudin, soon reached the slope formed by 
 the cliffs of Saint-Sulpice as they fall away in a suc- 
 cession of smaller hills to the Val de Gibarry. 
 Gudin himself left the road and leaped lightly over 
 the brushwood fence of the first field of broom he 
 came to, followed by six of his compatriots ; the 
 other six, by his orders, took to the fields on the
 
 THE CHOUANS 411 
 
 right, so that the search might cover both sides of 
 the road. Gudin darted toward an apple-tree that 
 stood in the midst of the clumps of broom. At the 
 noise made by the six contre-Chouanswhom he was 
 leading through the forest of broom, trying not to 
 stir the silvery-white clumps, seven or eight men, 
 headed by Beau-Pied, concealed themselves behind 
 some chestnut-trees which grew on top of the hedge 
 surrounding the field. Despite the white reflection 
 that lighted up the ground and despite their trained 
 eyesight, the Fougerais did not at first perceive the 
 Blues, who had made a rampart of the trees. 
 
 " Hush ! here they are," said Beau-Pied, who 
 was the first to raise his head. " The brigands 
 have tired us out, but as we've got them at the 
 muzzles of our guns, let's not miss them, or, by 
 heaven ! we're not fit to be the Pope's soldiers ! " 
 
 Meanwhile, Gudin's keen eyes had at last dis- 
 covered the muskets aimed at his little band. At 
 that moment, as if in bitter mockery, eight loud 
 voices shouted : Qtii vive ? and eight musket shots 
 rang out. The bullets whistled about the contre- 
 Chouans. One of them received one in the arm 
 and another fell. The five Fougerais who were 
 unhurt retorted with a volley as they answered : 
 Friends ! Then they rushed rapidly upon their sup- 
 posed enemies, in order to fall upon them before 
 they had reloaded their weapons. 
 
 " We didn't know we were speaking the truth ! " 
 cried the young sub-lieutenant as he recognized the 
 uniforms and the old hats of the demi-brigade. We
 
 412 THE CHOUANS 
 
 acted like true Bretons and fought before we knew 
 what we were doing." 
 
 The eight soldiers were struck dumb when they 
 recognized Gudin. 
 
 "Bless me, lieutenant, who the devil wouldn't 
 take you for Chouans in your goatskins? " cried 
 Beau-Pied in a grieved tone. 
 
 ** It's a misfortune and we are all innocent of 
 blame, as you were not notified that we contre- 
 Chouans were to make a sortie. But what are you 
 doing ? " asked Gudin. 
 
 " We are looking for a dozen or more Chouans, 
 lieutenant, who are amusing themselves by tiring 
 us out. We have been running like poisoned rats ; 
 but, by dint of leaping fences and hedges, confo-und 
 them, our joints were getting rusty, so we were 
 resting. I think the brigands must now be in the 
 neighborhood of that old barrack that you see the 
 smoke coming from." 
 
 "Good!" cried Gudin. "You," he said to 
 Beau-Pied and his eight men, " will fall back on the 
 rocks of Saint-Sulpice, across the fields, and support 
 the line of sentinels that the commandant has posted 
 there. You must not stay with us, as you're in 
 uniform. We mean to have it out with these dogs, 
 deuce take me ! for the Gars is with them ! Your 
 comrades will tell you more about it than I can. 
 File right and don't fire at six of our goatskins 
 whom you may meet. You will recognize our 
 contre-Chouans by their cravats, which are twisted 
 into a cord without a knot."
 
 THE CHOUANS 413 
 
 Gudin left his two wounded men under the apple- 
 tree and marched toward Galope-Chopine's house, 
 which Beau-Pied had just pointed out to him, the 
 column of smoke serving as a compass. While the 
 young officer was put upon the track of the Chouans 
 as the result of a meeting far from uncommon in 
 that war, and which might well have had a more 
 disastrous termination, the little detachment com- 
 manded by Hulot had reached a point in its line of 
 operations opposite to that reached by Gudin in his. 
 The old soldier, at the head of his contre-Chouans, 
 crept silently along the hedges with all the ardor of 
 a young man, he leaped the gates with agility, 
 casting his keen eyes upon all the elevated points 
 and pricking up his ears, like a hunter, at the 
 slightest noise. In the third field he entered, he 
 spied a woman of some thirty years, busily engaged 
 in hoeing, bent almost double and working vigor- 
 ously, while a small boy of seven or eight, armed 
 with a sickle, shook the frost from the broom plants 
 that grew here and there, cut them and piled them. 
 At the noise made by Hulot as he landed heavily on 
 their side of the fence, the boy and his mother raised 
 their heads. Hulot not unnaturally mistook the 
 young woman for an old one. Her brow and the 
 skin of her neck were furrowed by premature 
 wrinkles ; she was so grotesquely clad in a worn 
 goatskin that, except for a dirty, yellow cotton skirt, 
 the distinctive mark of her sex, Hulot would not 
 have known to which sex she belonged, for her long 
 hair was hidden under a red woollen cap. The
 
 414 THE CHOUANS 
 
 rags with which the little boy was hardly covered 
 afforded frequent glimpses of his skin. 
 
 " Hey ! old woman," said Hulot in a low tone as 
 he approached her, " whcre's the Gars ? " 
 
 At that moment the twenty contre-Chouans who 
 followed Hulot, clambered over the hedge of the 
 field. 
 
 " Ah ! to find the Gars you must go back where 
 you came from," replied the woman, with a sus- 
 picious glance at the detachment. 
 
 "Did I ask you the way from the Faubourg du 
 Gars to Fougeres, old carcass ? " retorted Hulot 
 roughly. " By Sainte Anne d'Auray ! have you 
 seen the Gars pass ? " 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," the woman re- 
 plied, bending over to resume her work. 
 
 " You damned shrew, do you want us to be swal- 
 lowed by the Blues who are on our track ? " cried 
 Hulot. 
 
 At that the woman raised her head and glanced 
 again distrustfully at the contre-Chouans as she 
 answered : 
 
 " How can the Blues be on your tracks ? I just 
 saw seven or eight going back to Fougeres by the 
 road over yonder." 
 
 "Wouldn't one think she was going to bite us 
 with her nose ? " rejoined Hulot. " Here, look, old 
 nanny-goat ! " 
 
 And the commandant pointed to three or four of 
 his sentries some fifty yards behind, whose hats 
 and uniforms and guns were easily recognized.
 
 THE CHOUANS 415 
 
 " Do you mean to let them shoot down the men 
 Marche-a-Terre sends to the assistance of the Gars, 
 whom the Fougerais are trying to capture ? " he 
 continued angrily. 
 
 "Oh! forgive me," replied the woman; "but 
 it's so easy to be deceived ! What parish are you 
 from ? " she asked. 
 
 "From Saint-Georges," cried two or three of 
 the Fougerais in Bas-Breton, "and we're dying of 
 hunger." 
 
 " Well, look, do you see that smoke yonder ? " 
 said the woman ; " that's my house. If you follow 
 the paths to the right, you'll come on it from above. 
 Perhaps you'll meet my man on the way. Galope- 
 Chopine should be on the watch to warn the Gars, 
 as you know that he's coming to our house to-day," 
 she added proudly. 
 
 "Thanks, my good woman," replied Hulot. — 
 "Forward, you fellows, tonnerre de Dieu!" he 
 added to his men, " we have him ! " 
 
 At the word, the detachment moved rapidly away 
 on the heels of the commandant, who plunged into 
 the path pointed out to him. Galope-Chopine's 
 wife turned pale when she heard the un-Catholic 
 oath of the self-styled Chouan. She looked at the 
 gaiters and goatskins worn by the young Fougerais, 
 sat down on the ground, took her child in her arms 
 and said : 
 
 " May the holy virgin of Auray and blessed Saint- 
 Labre have pity on us ! I don't believe those are 
 our people, their shoes have no nails. Run by the
 
 4l6 THE CHOUANS 
 
 lower road and warn your father, his head's in 
 danger ! " she said to the boy, who disappeared like 
 a deer among the furze bushes and broom. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mademoiselle de Verneuil had met 
 neither Blues nor Chouans on her road ; they were 
 hunting each other in the labyrinth of fields that lay 
 around Galope-Chopine's hovel. As she spied a 
 column of bluish smoke rising from the half-ruined 
 chimney of that dreary abode, her heart beat so 
 violently that the blood seemed to rush in waves 
 to her neck with hurried, resonant throbs. She 
 stopped, rested her hand on the branch of a tree 
 and gazed at the smoke which would serve as a 
 beacon to the friends and enemies alike of the 
 young leader. She had never before felt such over- 
 powering emotion. 
 
 " Ah ! I love him too dearly ! " she said to herself 
 with a sort of despair; "to-day I may not be mis- 
 tress of myself." 
 
 Suddenly she traversed the space that separated 
 her from the hovel and found herself in the yard, 
 where the mud had been hardened by the frost. 
 The great dog darted at her again, barking loudly ; 
 but at a single word from Galope-Chopine, he 
 wagged his tail and was silent. As she entered the 
 cabin, Marie cast about her one of those glances 
 which nothing escapes. The marquis was not 
 there. She breathed more freely. She noticed 
 with pleasure that the Chouan had exerted himself 
 to produce something like neatness in the single 
 filthy room of his kennel. Galope-Chopine seized
 
 THE CHOUANS 417 
 
 his fowling-piece, saluted his guest silently and went 
 out with his dog ; she followed him as far as the 
 door and saw him take the path that led away from 
 his cabin to the right, the entrance to which was 
 protected by a huge rotten tree-trunk, forming an 
 almost ruined echalier. From where she stood, she 
 could see a succession of fields, whose eihaliers pro- 
 duced the impression of a long row of gates, for the 
 nakedness of the trees and hedges made it possible 
 to see clearly every detail of the landscape. When 
 Galope-Chopine's broad-brimmed hat had altogether 
 disappeared, Mademoiselle de Verneuil turned to the 
 left to look for the church of Fougeres ; but the shed 
 entirely hid it from her. She turned her eyes on 
 the valley of Couesnon, which looked like a vast 
 sheet of muslin, whose whiteness lent added gloom 
 to the gray, snow-laden sky. It was one of those 
 days when nature seems dumb and when the noises 
 are absorbed by the atmosphere. And so, although 
 the Blues and their contre-Chouans were marching 
 across the country in three lines, forming a triangle 
 and closing in as they drew near the cabin, the 
 silence was so profound that Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil was deeply moved by the circumstance, which 
 added to her distress of mind a sort of physical dis- 
 tress. There was disaster in the air. At last, at 
 the spot where a little fringe of forest broke the 
 continuity of the row of barriers, she saw a young 
 man leaping them like a squirrel and running with 
 astonishing speed. 
 
 ** It is he ! " she said to herself. 
 27
 
 4l8 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Dressed simply, in Chouan costume, the Gars 
 carried his gun slung over his shoulder behind his 
 goatskin, and, except for the grace of his move- 
 ments, he u'ould have been unrecognizable. Marie 
 retired hastily into the cabin, obeying one of those 
 instinctive impulses as difficult of explanation as 
 fear ; but soon the young nobleman was standing 
 within two paces of her in front of the hearth on 
 which a bright fire was crackling. They were both 
 voiceless, afraid to look at each other or to move. 
 The same hope united their thoughts, the same 
 doubt kept them apart ; it was agony, it was ec- 
 stasy. 
 
 "Monsieur," said Marie at last in a trembling 
 voice, " solicitude for your safety alone has brought 
 me here." 
 
 " My safety ? " he demanded bitterly. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " so long as I remain at Fou- 
 g^res, your life is in danger and I love you too well 
 not to leave the place to-night ; do not look for me 
 there henceforth." 
 
 " Leave the place, dear angel ! — I will go with 
 you." 
 
 " Go with me ! Can you dream of such a thing? 
 —What of the Blues ?" 
 
 " Ah ! my dear Marie, what is there in common 
 between the Blues and our love ? " 
 
 " Why, it seems to me that it would be very diffi- 
 cult for you to remain in France with me and more 
 difficult still for you to go away from France with 
 me."
 
 THE CHOUANS 419 
 
 " Is anything impossible to him who loves well? " 
 
 " Ah ! yes, I believe that anything is possible. 
 Did I not have the courage to renounce you for your 
 own sake ? " 
 
 " What ! you gave yourself to a frightful creature 
 whom you did not love, and you will not consent to 
 make a man happy who adores you, whose whole 
 life you are and who swears that he will never be- 
 long to anybody but you ? — Tell me, Marie, do you 
 love me ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said. 
 
 " Then be mine." 
 
 " Have you forgotten that I have resumed the in- 
 famous role of a courtesan, and that it is you who 
 must be mine ? If I seek to avoid you, it is in order 
 that I may not let fall on your head the contempt I 
 might incur ; except for that dread, perhaps — " 
 
 " But suppose that I dread nothing ? " 
 
 "Who will assure me of it? I am suspicious. 
 In my position, who would not be ? — If the love we 
 inspire does not last, it should at least be complete 
 and enable us to endure with joy the injustice of the 
 world. What have you done for me ? You desire 
 me. Do you think that you have thereby raised 
 yourself much above the level of those who have 
 seen me hitherto ? Have you, for an hour's pleas- 
 ure, risked the lives of your Chouans, without giv- 
 ing more thought to them than I gave to the Blues 
 who were massacred when everything looked so 
 black for me ? And suppose I bade you renounce 
 all your ideas, all your hopes, your king, who stands
 
 420 THE CHOUANS 
 
 in my light, and who, perhaps, will laugh at you 
 when you have died for him, while 1 would die for 
 you with respectful veneration ? Or suppose I 
 wished you to forward your submission to the First 
 Consul, so that you could go with me to Paris ? — 
 Suppose I should demand that we go to America to 
 live far from a world where all is vanity, in order to 
 find out whether you really love me for myself, as 
 I at this moment love you? To say it all in a word, 
 suppose that I, instead of rising to your level, wished 
 to pull you down to mine, what would you do ? " 
 
 " Hush, Marie, do not slander yourself. Poor 
 child, I have guessed your secret ! As truly as my 
 first desire became passion, my passion has become 
 love. Dear heart of my heart, I know that you are 
 as noble as your name, as great as you are beauti- 
 ful ; 1 am noble enough and feel that I am great 
 enough to make society accept you. Is it because I 
 foresee in you incredible, incessant joy ? is it be- 
 cause I believe I have found in your heart those 
 precious qualities which make us always love the 
 same woman ? 1 know not the cause, but my love 
 is without bounds and it seems to me that 1 cannot 
 live longer without you. Yes, my life would be 
 distasteful if you were not always near me." 
 
 " Near you ? " 
 
 " O Marie, can you not read your Alphonse ? " 
 
 " Ah ! do you think that you flatter me greatly 
 by offering me your name and your hand ? " she 
 said with apparent disdain, but gazing steadfastly at 
 the marquis in order to detect his slightest thought.
 
 THE CHOUANS 421 
 
 " And do you know whether you would love me six 
 months hence, and if not, what would my future 
 be ? — No, a mistress is the only woman who is sure 
 of a man's feeling for her ; for duty, the laws, 
 society, the interests of children, are not its deplor- 
 able auxiliaries, and if her power is lasting, she 
 finds flattery therein and a happiness that enable 
 her to submit to the greatest imaginable mortifica- 
 tions. To be your wife and to run the risk of being 
 a burden to you some day ! — To that dread I prefer 
 an ephemeral but genuine passion, even if misery 
 and death are at the end of it. Yes, I could be a 
 devoted wife, a virtuous mother, better than most 
 women ; but to nourish such sentiments in a wom- 
 an's heart, a man must not marry her in a frenzy 
 of passion. Furthermore, do I know myself that I 
 shall care for you to-morrow ? No, I do not choose 
 to bring disaster upon you, I am about to leave Bre- 
 tagne," she said, noticing some hesitation in his 
 glance, " and return to Paris, and you will not seek 
 me there." 
 
 " Very good, on the day after to-morrow, if you see 
 smoke on the rocks of Saint-Sulpice in the morning, 
 I shall be with you in the evening, husband, lover, 
 whatever you want me to be. I shall have defied 
 everything ! " 
 
 "But, Alphonse, do you really love me," she 
 said wildly, "to risk your life thus before giving it 
 to me ? " 
 
 He did not reply, but simply looked at her and 
 she lowered her eyes ; but he read upon his mis-
 
 422 THE CHOUANS 
 
 tress's glowing face an intensity of passion equal to 
 his own, and he put out his arms. Impelled by a 
 sort of frenzy, Marie fell softly on his breast, resolved 
 to abandon herself to him in order to make of that 
 sin the greatest of joys by risking therein all her 
 prospects for the future which she would make more 
 certain if she emerged victorious from this supreme 
 test. But her head was hardly upon her lover's 
 shoulder when there was a slight noise outside. She 
 tore herself from his arms as if she had just awak- 
 ened and darted out of the hovel. She succeeded 
 in recovering her self-possession somewhat and v/as 
 able to reflect upon her situation. 
 
 " Perhaps he would have taken me and then 
 made sport of me," she said to herself. " Ah ! if I 
 could think that I would kill him. — Not yet, though," 
 she added as she caught sight of Beau-Pied, to whom 
 she made a sign which the soldier understood per- 
 fectly. 
 
 The poor fellow turned sharply on his heel, pre- 
 tending that he had seen nothing. Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil returned abruptly to the room, motioning 
 to the marquis to maintain absolute silence by pres- 
 sing her right forefinger against her lips. 
 
 " They are there ! " she exclaimed in dismay and 
 in a low voice. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "The Blues." 
 
 " Ah ! I shall not die without having — ? " 
 
 " No, take—" 
 
 He seized her, cold and unresisting, and took from
 
 THE CHOUANS 423 
 
 her lips a kiss full of horror and of joy, for it might 
 be the last as well as the first. Then they walked 
 together to the door, putting their faces to it in such 
 a way as to see everything without being seen. 
 The marquis saw Gudin at the head of a dozen men 
 who were holding the lower end of the valley of 
 Couesnon. He turned in the direction of the row 
 of gates — the great rotten tree trunk was guarded 
 by seven soldiers. He mounted the cask of cider 
 and broke through the shingled roof, intending to 
 make his way to the cliff behind the house ; but he 
 hurriedly withdrew his head from the hole he had 
 made : Hulot was in possession of the cliff and cut 
 off his retreat to Fougeres. At that moment he 
 glanced at his mistress, who uttered a despairing 
 exclamation : she heard the footsteps of the three 
 detachments that had met at the house. 
 
 " Go out first," said he, " you shall save me." 
 At those words, which to her mind were sublime, 
 she joyfully took her place in front of the door 
 while the marquis was loading his blunderbuss. 
 Having measured with his eye the space between 
 the door and the tree trunk, the Gars rushed at the 
 seven Blues, riddled them with his broadside and 
 broke out a path through the midst of them. The 
 three squads rushed together at the echalier, which 
 the young man had leaped, and saw him running 
 across the field with incredible swiftness. 
 
 "Fire, fire, ten thousand devils! You're no 
 Frenchmen ! Fire, you hounds ! " cried Hulot in a 
 voice of thunder.
 
 424 THE CHOUANS 
 
 As he shouted these words from the top of the 
 cliff, his men and Gudin's delivered a genera! dis- 
 charge, which luckily was badly aimed. The mar- 
 quis had already reached the echalier at the end of 
 the first field ; but just as he was leaping into the 
 second, he was almost overtaken by Gudin, who 
 had darted swiftly in pursuit. Hearing that re- 
 doubtable adversary only a few yards away, the 
 Gars redoubled his speed. Nevertheless Gudin and 
 the marquis arrived at the echalier at almost the 
 same moment ; but Montauran threw his blunder- 
 buss at Gudin's head with such accurate aim that he 
 struck him and checked his progress. 
 
 It is impossible to describe Marie's anxiety, and 
 the interest manifested in the spectacle by Hulot and 
 his command. Unconsciously they all repeated the 
 gestures of the two runners without speaking. The 
 Gars and Gudin were almost side by side when they 
 reached the white curtain of hoar-frost formed by 
 the little wood ; but the lieutenant suddenly fell back 
 and took shelter behind an apple tree. A score or 
 more of Chouans, who had refrained from firing for 
 fear of injuring their leader, now showed themselves 
 and riddled the tree with bullets. The whole of 
 Hulot's little band dashed forward to rescue Gudin, 
 who, being unarmed, was dodging from apple tree 
 to apple tree, seizing the moment when the King's 
 Chasseurs were reloading, to run from one to an- 
 other. His danger was of short duration. The 
 contre-Chouans and Blues together, with Hulot 
 at their head, met him at the spot where the
 
 THE CHOUANS 425 
 
 marquis had thrown his blunderbuss at him. 
 Just then Gudin spied his adversary, tlioroughly ex- 
 hausted, sitting under one of the trees in the little 
 thicket ; he left his comrades exchanging shots with 
 the Chouans who were intrenched behind the side 
 wall of the field, turned their position and darted to- 
 ward the marquis with the speed of a deer. Ob- 
 serving that manoeuvre, the King's Chasseurs 
 shouted at the tops of their voices to warn their 
 leader ; then, firing on the contre-Chouans with the 
 accurate marksmanship of poachers, they tried to 
 hold them in check ; but the Republicans coura- 
 geously scaled the hedge that their enemies were using 
 as a rampart and wreaked a bloody vengeance upon 
 them. The Chouans thereupon retreated to the 
 road that skirted the field in which this engagement 
 had taken place, and took possession of the heights 
 which Hulot had made the tactical mistake of aban- 
 doning. Before the Blues had had time to look 
 about them, the Chouans had intrenched themselves 
 in the hollows formed by the crests of the cliffs, 
 under cover of which they could fire without risk 
 upon Hulot's men if they should show signs of in- 
 tending to give them battle. 
 
 While Hulot, accompanied by some few soldiers, 
 was walking toward the little wood in search of 
 Gudin, the Fougerais remained behind to despoil the 
 dead Chouans and finish the wounded who were 
 still alive. In that ghastly war neither party made 
 any prisoners. The marquis having escaped, the 
 Blues and the Chouans recognized the strength of
 
 426 THE CHOUANS 
 
 their respective positions and the uselessness of 
 further fighting, so that both thought only of retir- 
 ing. 
 
 " If I lose that young man," cried Hulot, gazing 
 earnestly at the wood, " I will never make another 
 friend ! " 
 
 " Aha ! " exclaimed one of the young Fougerais, 
 who was busily engaged despoiling the dead, " here's 
 a bird with yellow feathers." 
 
 And he showed his companions a purse full of gold 
 pieces he had just found in the pocket of a stout man 
 dressed in black. 
 
 "But what's he got there ?" said another, pro- 
 ducing a breviary from the dead man's coat. " It's 
 consecrated bread, he's a priest ! " he cried, throwing 
 the breviary on the ground. 
 
 "The thief, he'll make us bankrupt!" said a 
 third, finding only twelve francs in the pockets of 
 the Chouan he was disrobing. 
 
 " Yes, but he has a fine pair of shoes," replied a 
 soldier, who set about removing them. 
 
 "You shall have them if they fall to your lot," 
 retorted one of the Fougerais, snatching them from 
 the dead man's feet and tossing them on the pile of 
 effects already collected. 
 
 A fourth contre-Chouan took charge of the money, 
 in order to divide it when all those taking part in the 
 expedition should have assembled. When Hulot 
 returned with the young officer whose last attempt 
 to overtake the Gars had proved to be as perilous as 
 it was useless, he found about twenty of his troops
 
 THE CHOUANS 427 
 
 and thirty contre-Chouans surrounding eleven dead 
 bodies which had been thrown into a trench dug at 
 the foot of the wall. 
 
 " Soldiers," cried Hulot sternly, " 1 forbid you to 
 share those rags. Fall in, and look sharp ! " 
 
 ** Commandant," said a soldier, pointing to his 
 shoes from which his five toes protruded, " I don't 
 care for the money ; but those shoes," he added, 
 pointing with the butt of his musket to the pair of 
 hob-nailed shoes, " would fit me like a glove." 
 
 "You want English shoes on your feet ! " retorted 
 Hulot. 
 
 " But we have always divided the booty since the 
 war began," said one of the Fougerais respectfully. 
 
 " I don't interfere with your following your usual 
 customs," said Hulot roughly, interrupting him. 
 
 " See Gudin, there's a purse that contains a good 
 lot of louis ; you've done a good deal and your com- 
 mandant won't object to your taking it," said one of 
 his former comrades. 
 
 Hulot glanced askance at Gudin and saw that he 
 turned pale. 
 
 " It's my uncle's purse ! " he cried. 
 
 Exhausted as he was by his exertions, he took a 
 few steps toward the heap of corpses, and the first 
 body on which his eyes fell was his uncle's ; but he 
 no sooner saw the florid face marked with bluish 
 bands, the stiffened arms and the wound made by 
 the musket ball, than he uttered a stifled cry and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Let us be off, commandant ! "
 
 428 THE CHOUANS 
 
 The troop of Blues moved away, Hulot offering 
 his arm to his young friend. 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dieu! that's nothing," said the old 
 soldier. 
 
 " But he is dead ! " replied Gudin, " dead ! He 
 was my only relation, and, although he cursed me, 
 he loved me. If the king returned, and the whole 
 province had wanted my head, he would have con- 
 cealed me under his cassock." 
 
 " What a fool he is ! " said the National Guards- 
 men who remained behind to divide the spoils ; 
 "the goodman was rich and, going off like that, he 
 didn't have time to make a will and disinherit 
 him." 
 
 The division made, the contre-Chouans overtook 
 the little battalion of Blues and followed it at a dis- 
 tance. 
 
 A horrible feeling of anxiety made its way, toward 
 night, into Galope-Chopine's hovel, where life 
 hitherto had been so innocent and free from care. 
 Barbette and her little boy, bearing upon their backs, 
 the one her heavy load of furze, the other a supply of 
 grass for the cattle, returned at the hour when the 
 family usually took their evening meal. As they 
 entered the house, the mother and the son looked in 
 vain for Galope-Chopine ; and never before had the 
 wretched room seemed to them so large as in its 
 present emptiness. The fireless hearth, the dark- 
 ness, the silence, everything was ominous of 
 disaster. When it was dark, Barbette made haste to 
 light a bright fire and two orihus, the name given to
 
 THE CHOUANS 429 
 
 candles made of pitch, in the district included between 
 the banks of the Armorique and the Loire, and still 
 used in the country districts of Vendomois beyond 
 Amboise. Barbette made these preparations with 
 the moderation that characterizes our actions when 
 we are under the influence of some profound 
 emotion ; she listened to the slightest sound ; but, 
 being frequently deceived by the whistling of the 
 wind, she would go to the door of the wretched 
 hovel and return more melancholy than ever. She 
 cleaned two jugs, filled them with cider and placed 
 them on the long walnut table. Again and again 
 she glanced at her boy, who was watching the buck- 
 wheat cakes, but was unable to speak to him. At 
 one time the little fellow's eyes rested on the two 
 nails upon which his father's fowling-piece usually 
 hung, and Barbette shuddered when she noticed, as 
 he had done, that the space was bare. The silence 
 was interrupted only by the lowing of the cows or 
 by the regular dripping of the cider from the bung- 
 hole of the cask. The poor woman sighed heavily 
 as she made ready a sort of soup made of milk, 
 bread cut into small pieces and boiled chestnuts, 
 with which she filled three brown earthenware 
 bowls. 
 
 " They fought in the field that belongs to La Be- 
 raudi^re," said the boy. 
 
 " Go and see," the mother replied. 
 
 The boy ran out, saw the pile of bodies in the 
 moonlight ; failed to find his father among them, 
 and returned joyously to the house, whistling ; he
 
 430 THE CHOUANS 
 
 had picked up a number of hundred-sou pieces 
 which had been trodden into the mud by the victors 
 and overlooked by them. He found his mother sit- 
 ting on a stool by the hearth, spinning hemp. He 
 shook his head in answer to a questioning glance 
 from Barbette, who dared not believe in any good 
 fortune ; then, as ten o'clock struck at Saint-Leo- 
 nard's, the little fellow went to bed, after lisping a 
 prayer to the blessed virgin of Auray. At day- 
 break, Barbette, who had not slept, uttered a cry of 
 joy as she heard in the distance the tramp of a pair 
 of stout hob-nailed shoes, which she recognized, and 
 Galope-Chopine soon showed his sullen counte- 
 nance. 
 
 " Thanks to Saint-Labre, to whom I have prom- 
 ised a fine candle, the Gars is safe ! Don't forget 
 that we owe the saint three candles now." 
 
 Thereupon Galope-Chopine seized a jug and 
 swallowed its contents at a draught, without taking 
 breath. When his wife had poured out his soup 
 and relieved him of his fowling-piece, and he was 
 seated on the walnut bench, he said, as he drew near 
 the fire : 
 
 " How did the Blues and contre-Chouans happen 
 to come here ? They were fighting at Florigny. 
 What devil could have told them that the Gars was 
 at our house .-' for he and his pretty garce and we 
 two were the only ones that knew it." 
 
 The woman turned pale. 
 
 " The contre-Chouans made me believe they 
 were gars from Saint-Georges," she replied, trem-
 
 THE CHOUANS 43 1 
 
 bling, " and I was the one who told them where the 
 Gars was." 
 
 Galope-Chopine turned pale in his turn, and left 
 his bowl on the edge of the table. 
 
 " I sent our boy to tell you," continued the terri- 
 fied Barbette, " but he couldn't find you." 
 
 The Chouan rose and struck his wife so violently 
 that she fell half dead on the bed. 
 
 " You cursed garce, you have done for me ! " he 
 said. 
 
 But, in a moment, terror-stricken, he took his 
 wife in his arms. 
 
 " Barbette ! " he cried, " Barbette !— Holy Virgin ! 
 my hand was too heavy ! " 
 
 " Do you think Marche-a-Terre knows it ? " she 
 said, opening her eyes. 
 
 "The Gars," the Chouan replied, "has given 
 orders to find out the traitor." 
 
 " Did he tell Marche-a-Terre that .? " 
 
 " Pille-Miche and Marche-a-Terre were at Flo- 
 rigny." 
 
 Barbette breathed more freely. 
 
 " If they touch a single hair of your head," cried 
 she, " I'll rinse their glasses in vinegar." 
 
 " Ah ! I'm not hungry any longer ! " cried 
 Galope-Chopine sadly. 
 
 His wife pushed another full jug in front of him 
 but he paid no attention to it. Two great tears 
 ploughed their way down Barbette's cheeks and 
 moistened the wrinkles on her faded face. 
 
 " Listen, wife, to-morrow morning we must make
 
 432 THE CHOUANS 
 
 a pile of brushwood on the rocks of Saint-Sulpice to 
 the right of Saint-Leonard, and set fire to it. It's 
 the signal agreed upon between the Gars and the 
 old priest at Saint-Georges, who is coming to say 
 mass." 
 
 " Then he is going to Foug^res ? " 
 
 " Yes, to his lovely garce. I've got a deal of run- 
 ning to do on her account ! I believe he's going to 
 marry her and carry her off, for he told me to 
 hire horses and take them out on the Saint-Malo 
 road." 
 
 Thereupon Galope-Chopine, being tired out, went 
 to bed for a few hours ; then went out again about 
 his duties. On the following morning he returned, 
 having faithfully performed the commissions that 
 the marquis had entrusted to him. When he 
 learned that Pille-Miche and Marche-a-Terre had 
 not made their appearance, he soothed his wife's 
 fears, and she, almost reassured, started for the 
 rocks of Saint-Sulpice, where she had prepared, the 
 night before, on the shoulder facing Saint-Leonard, 
 a heap of brushwood covered with rime. She led 
 by the hand her little boy, who carried burning coals 
 in a broken shoe. His wife and son had hardly 
 disappeared behind the shed when Galope-Chopine 
 heard two men leaping the last of the row of echa- 
 liers, and two angular figures came slowly into view 
 like indistinct shadows through the thick mist. 
 
 " It's Pille-Miche and Marche-a-Terre ! " he said 
 to himself. 
 
 And he shuddered. The two Chouans appeared
 
 THE CHOUANS 433 
 
 in the little yard, their lowering faces, beneath their 
 shabby broad-brimmed hats, resembling the faces 
 engravers introduce in their landscapes. 
 
 "Good-day, Galope-Chopine," said Marche-a- 
 Terre gravely. 
 
 " Good-day, Monsieur Marche-a-Terre," replied 
 Barbette's husband humbly. "Will you come in 
 and empty a jug or two ? I have some cold cakes 
 and fresh butter." 
 
 " We can't refuse that, cousin," said Pille-Miche. 
 
 The two Chouans entered the cabin. There was 
 nothing m this beginning to alarm Galope-Chopine, 
 who went at once to his great cask and filled three 
 jugs, while Marche-a-Terre and Pille-Miche, sitting 
 one on each side of the long table on the polished 
 benches, cut off pieces of cake and spread them 
 with thick yellow butter which, under the pressure 
 of the knife, exuded drops of milk. Galope-Cho- 
 pine placed the jugs, filled with foaming cider, in 
 front of his guests, and the three Chouans began to 
 eat ; but from time to time the master of the house 
 cast a sidelong glance at Marche-a-Terre, while 
 taking pains to satisfy his thirst. 
 
 " Give me your snuff-box," said Marche-a-Terre 
 to Pille-Miche, 
 
 And after shaking several pinches into the hollow 
 of his hand, the Breton inhaled the snuff like a man 
 who is preparing for some serious proceeding. 
 
 " It's cold," said Pille-Miche, rising to close the 
 
 upper part of the door. 
 
 The daylight, dimmed by the mist, now found its 
 28
 
 434 THE CHOUANS 
 
 way into the room only through the small window, 
 and lighted but feebly the table and the two 
 benches ; the fire, however, gave forth a reddish 
 gleam. At that moment Galope-Chopine, having 
 replenished his guests' jugs, replaced them in front 
 of them ; but they refused to drink, removed their 
 broad-brimmed hats and suddenly assumed a very 
 solemn air. Their gestures and the glances with 
 which they consulted each other made Galope-Cho- 
 pine shudder, and he fancied he could see blood 
 under the red woollen caps they wore." 
 
 " Bring us your axe," said Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 " Why, what are you going to do with it, Mon- 
 sieur Marche-a-Terre ? " 
 
 " Go on, cousin, you know very well," said Pille- 
 Miche, putting away his snuff-box, which Marche- 
 a-Terre returned to him; "you have been tried." 
 
 The two Chouans rose slowly and seized their 
 guns. 
 
 "Monsieur Marche-a-Terre, I didn't say a word 
 about the Gars — " 
 
 " I told you to go and get your axe," rejoined the 
 Chouan. 
 
 The unfortunate Galope-Chopine stumbled 
 against the rough wooden frame of his son's cot, 
 and three hundred-sou pieces rolled on the floor : 
 Pille-Miche picked them up. 
 
 " Oho ! the Blues gave you new pieces ! " cried 
 Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 " As true as that is Saint-Labre's image," replied 
 Galope-Chopine, "I didn't say a word. Barbette
 
 THE CHOUANS 435 
 
 took the contre-Chouans for the gars from Saint- 
 Georges, that's the whole of it." 
 
 " Why do you talk business with your wife ? " 
 retorted Marche-a-Terre brutally. 
 
 " Besides, cousin, we're not asking you for ex- 
 planations, but for your axe. You have been tried." 
 
 At a sign from his companion, Pille-Miche assisted 
 him to seize their victim. When he felt the hands 
 of the two Chouans upon him, Galope-Chopine lost 
 all his strength, fell on his knees, and raised his 
 hands despairingly to his executioners : 
 
 " My good friends, my cousin, what do you think 
 will become of my little boy ? " 
 
 " I'll take care of him," said Marche-a-Terre. 
 
 " My dear comrades," continued Galope-Chopine, 
 as pale as death, " I am in no condition to die. Will 
 you let me go without confession ? You have a 
 right to take my life, but not to destroy my chances 
 of eternal salvation." 
 
 " That's true," said Marche-a-Terre, glancing at 
 Pille-Marche. 
 
 The two Chouans stood for a moment in the 
 utmost embarrassment, unable to decide that 
 question of conscience. Galope-Chopine listened 
 intently to the slightest sound caused by the wind, 
 as if he still retained some hope. The sound made 
 by the drops of cider falling at regular intervals from 
 the cask, caused him to glance mechanically at the 
 huge vessel, and heave a deep sigh. Suddenly 
 Pille-Miche seized the victim by the arm, led him 
 into a corner and said :
 
 436 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Confess all your sins to me and I'll repeat them 
 to a priest of the true Church ; he'll give me absolu- 
 tion, and if there are any penances to be done, I'll 
 do them for you." 
 
 Galope-Chopine obtained a short respite by his 
 manner of detailing his sins ; but, despite their 
 number and the minute details he gave, he reached 
 the end of the list. 
 
 " Alas ! " he said as he concluded, " after all, 
 cousin, as I am talking to you as to a confessor, 1 
 assure you, by God's holy name, that I have hardly 
 anything to reproach myself with except having but- 
 tered my bread a little too thick now and then, and 
 I call Saint-Labre over the fire-place there to witness 
 that I didn't say anything about the Gars. No, my 
 good friends, I didn't betray him." 
 
 " That's all right, cousin, get up ; you can settle 
 all that with the good Lord at one time as well as 
 another." 
 
 " But let me just say good-bye to Bar — " 
 
 "Come, come," interposed Marche-a-Terre, "if 
 you don't want people to think any worse of you 
 than they must, act like a Breton, and die de- 
 cently." 
 
 Once more the two Chouans seized Galope- 
 Chopine, laid him out on the bench, where he gave 
 no other sign of resistance than the convulsive 
 movements due to the animal instinct ; at the last he 
 uttered one or two low groans which ceased as soon 
 as the dull thud of the axe was heard. His head 
 was severed at a single blow. Marche-a-Terre took
 
 THE CHOUANS 437 
 
 the head by a tuft of hair, left the hovel, sought 
 and found a large nail in the rough door-frame, 
 twisted the hair around it and left the bleeding head 
 hanging there, not even closing the eyes. The two 
 Chouans washed their hands, without haste, in a 
 great bowl full of water, replaced their hats, took their 
 guns and leaped the eihalier, whistling the air of the 
 ballad called Le Capitaine. At the end of the field 
 Pille-Miche roared in a hoarse voice, stanzas taken 
 at random from that artless ballad, the simple 
 cadences being borne away by the wind : 
 
 The first town they gain, 
 She's arrayed by her swain 
 In gleaming satin white ; 
 
 The next town they gain, 
 She's arrayed by her swain 
 In gold and silver bright. 
 
 She was so passing fair, 
 That veils were spread for her 
 Throughout the regiment. 
 
 The notes insensibly blended together as the 
 Chouans moved away ; but the silence was so pro- 
 found that some strains reached the ears of Barbette, 
 who was returning to her house, leading her little 
 boy by the hand. A peasant woman never hears 
 without emotion that song, so popular in the west of 
 France ; and Barbette involuntarily began to sing 
 the first stanzas :
 
 438 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Come, my love, let's go, 
 Let us go to the war. 
 Let us go, 'tis time. 
 
 O captain bold, 
 
 Grieve not, it must be told. 
 
 My child is not for thee. 
 
 Not thine on land to be. 
 Nor thine on rolling sea. 
 Unless by treachery gained. 
 
 The father grasps his child. 
 
 And in a frenzy wild. 
 
 Strips and casts her to the deep. 
 
 The captain wiser, brave, 
 Swift cleaves the yielding wave 
 And swims with her to shore. 
 
 Come, my love, let's go. 
 Let us go to the war. 
 Let us go, 'tis time. 
 
 The first town they gain, etc. 
 
 Just as Barbette reached that point in the ballad 
 at which Pille-Miche had begun, she stepped into 
 her yard : her tongue froze, she stopped short, and 
 a terrible cry, suddenly checked, burst from her 
 gaping mouth. 
 
 " What's the matter, dear mamma ? " asked the 
 child. 
 
 " Go an alone," cried Barbette hoarsely, with-
 
 THE CHOUANS 439 
 
 drawing her hand from his and pushing him forward 
 with incredible violence ; " you have neither father 
 nor mother." 
 
 The child, who was rubbing his shoulder and 
 crying, saw the head fastened to the nail ; his fresh 
 young face retained the nervous convulsion caused 
 by weeping, but he wept no more. He opened his 
 eyes to their widest extent and gazed long at his 
 father's head with a stupid expression that betrayed 
 no emotion ; then his face, rendered brutish by ig- 
 norance, began to express a savage curiosity. Sud- 
 denly Barbette seized the child's hand again, 
 squeezed it fiercely, and led him rapidly into the 
 house. While Pille-Miche and March-a-Terre were 
 laying Galope-Chopine on the bench, one of his 
 shoes had fallen under his neck in such a position 
 that it was filled with blood, and it was the first 
 object his widow saw. 
 
 " Take off your shoe," she said to her son. 
 " Now put your foot in this one. Good. Always 
 remember your father's shoe," she cried in a lugu- 
 brious tone, "and never put one of them on your 
 foot without remembering the one that was full of 
 blood shed by the Chuins, and kill the Chums!" 
 
 As she spoke, she shook her head convulsively 
 and the locks of black hair fell down over her neck, 
 giving a sinister expression to her face. 
 
 " I call Saint Labre to witness," she continued, 
 "that I devote you to the service of the Blues. 
 You shall be a soldier to avenge your father. Kill 
 the Chuins, kill them, and do as I do. Ah ! they
 
 440 THE CHOUANS 
 
 took my man's head, and I'll give the Gars's head to 
 the Blues." 
 
 She leaped upon the bed, took a little bag of 
 money from a hiding-place, seized her wondering 
 child by the hand once more, dragged him away 
 without giving him time to put on his shoe, and they 
 hurried away toward Foug^res, neither of them once 
 turning back to look at the hovel they abandoned. 
 When they reached the summit of the rocks of 
 Saint-Sulpice, Barbette stirred up the fire and her 
 son helped her to cover it with thorn-broom loaded 
 with hoar-frost, to make the smoke more dense. 
 
 " That will last longer than your father, longer 
 than me, longer than the Gars!" said Barbette 
 fiercely, pointing to the fire.
 
 * 
 
 While, with a gloomy expression that bespoke re- 
 venge and curiosity, Galope-Chopine's widow and 
 her son with the blood-stained foot were watching 
 the smoke roll upward. Mademoiselle de Verneuil's 
 eyes were fixed upon that rock, and she was trying, 
 but in vain, to discover the signal described by the 
 marquis. The mist, which had gradually grown 
 more dense, buried the whole country beneath a 
 veil, whose gray tints concealed the details of the 
 landscape nearest the town. She looked anxiously, 
 one after another, at the cliffs, the chateau, and the 
 buildings, which resembled streaks of blacker mist. 
 A few trees near her window stood out against the 
 bluish background like the coral reefs of which the 
 sea affords glimpses when it is calm. The sun gave 
 to the sky the pallid hue of tarnished silver, its 
 beams tinged with a doubtful flush the bare branches 
 of the trees on which a few last leaves still fluttered 
 in the breeze. But Marie's heart was filled with 
 sensations too blissful for her to see aught of evil 
 augury in the spectacle, or aught out of harmony 
 with the happiness upon which her heart was feed- 
 ing in anticipation. Within the last two days, her 
 
 ideas had undergone a strange modification. The 
 
 (441)
 
 442 THE CHOUANS 
 
 bitter, unruly outbursts of her passions had slowly 
 yielded to the influence of the even temperature 
 that true love gives to life. The certainty of being 
 loved, which she had gone in search of through so 
 many dangers, had given birth within her to a desire 
 to return to the social conditions which give sanc- 
 tion to bliss, and which she had turned her back 
 upon only through despair. To love but for a single 
 moment seemed to her like impotence. She imag- 
 ined herself suddenly transported from the social 
 depths to which her misfortunes had consigned her, 
 to the lofty position in which her father had for a 
 moment placed her. Her vanity, held in check by 
 the cruel vicissitudes of a passion that alternated be- 
 tween hope and despair, awoke and showed her all 
 the advantages of exalted rank. As she was, in a 
 certain sense, born a marchioness, to marry Mon- 
 tauran, was it not to live and act in the sphere to 
 which she belonged ? After experiencing all the 
 hazards of an adventurous life, she could appreciate 
 better than any other woman the grandeur of the 
 sentiments that make the family. Moreover mar- 
 riage, maternity and its cares were to her not so 
 much a task as repose. She loved the calm and 
 virtuous life of which she had caught a glimpse in 
 this last storm, as a woman, weary of virtue, might 
 cast a covetous glance upon an illicit passion. Virtue 
 was to her a new form of seduction. 
 
 " Perhaps," she said, turning away from the 
 window without having seen any signs of fire on 
 the rocks of Saint-Sulpice, " I have played the flirt
 
 THE CHOUANS 443 
 
 too much with him. But I did not know how dearly 
 he loved me ! — Francine, it is no longer a dream, 
 to-night I shall be Marquise de Montauran ! What 
 have I done to deserve such perfect happiness ? 
 Oh ! I love him, and love alone can reward love. 
 Nevertheless God intends, I doubt not, to reward 
 me for having preserved so much heart despite so 
 much wretchedness, and to make me forget my 
 suffering ; for, as you know, my child, I have suf- 
 fered horribly ! " 
 
 "Marquise de Montauran to-night, you, Marie.'* 
 Oh ! until it's an accomplished fact, I shall think I 
 am dreaming. Who, pray, has told him all your 
 noble qualities ? " 
 
 " Why, my dear child, he hasn't fine eyes simply, 
 he has a heart. If you had seen him, as I did, in 
 danger ! Oh ! he must know how to love, he is so 
 brave ! " 
 
 " If you love him so much, why do you allow 
 him to come to Foug^res ? " 
 
 " Had we time to say more than a word to 
 each other when we were surprised ? Besides, isn't 
 it a proof of love, and can one ever have enough of 
 them ? — Meanwhile, dress my hair." 
 
 But she threw into confusion a hundred times, as 
 if she were strung on electric wires, the charming 
 arrangement of her hair, mingling thoughts that 
 were not as yet thoroughly calm with all the wiles 
 of coquetry. As she twisted a curl or smoothed her 
 glossy tresses, she asked herself, with a last rem- 
 nant of suspicion, if the marquis were not deceiving
 
 444 THE CHOUANS 
 
 her, but the next moment she thought that such 
 villainy would be inexplicable as he would expose 
 himself most audaciously to immediate vengeance 
 by coming to her at Foug^res. As she studied mis- 
 chievously, in her mirror, the effect of a sidelong 
 glance, of a smile, of a slight wrinkle on the fore- 
 head, of an expression of anger, of love or of dis- 
 dain, she tried to invent some woman's stratagem 
 to enable her to probe the young Royalist's heart up 
 to the very last. 
 
 "You are right, Francine," she said; "I wish, 
 as you do, that the marriage were a fact. This day 
 is the last of my nebulous days, it is big with my 
 death or with our happiness. This mist is hateful," 
 she added, looking out again toward the summit of 
 Saint-Sulpice, which was still hidden. 
 
 She set about arranging the silk and muslin cur- 
 tains that hung at the window, amusing herself by 
 shutting out the light in such a way as to produce a 
 voluptuous chiaroscuro in the room. 
 
 "Francine," said she, "take away those gew- 
 gaws with which the mantel-shelf is crowded, and 
 leave only the clock and the two Saxony vases, in 
 which I will myself arrange the winter flowers 
 Corentin found for me. — Take away all the chairs, 
 I want only a couch and an armchair. When you 
 have done that, my child, brush the carpet so as to 
 brighten up the colors ; then put candles in the 
 chimney sconces and in the candlesticks." 
 
 Marie gazed long and earnestly at the old tapes- 
 try with which the walls of the room were hung.
 
 THE CHOUANS 445 
 
 Guided by inborn good taste, she was able to find 
 among the brilliant shades in the high warp, the tints 
 which would serve to connect that antique decoration 
 with the furniture and accessories of the boudoir, 
 either by harmony of coloring, or by the charm of 
 contrast. The same idea guided her arrangement 
 of the flowers in the twisted vases that decorated 
 the room. The couch was placed near the fireplace. 
 On each side of the bed, which stood against the 
 wall opposite the fireplace, she placed, on two small 
 gilded tables, large Saxony vases filled with flowers 
 and foliage that exhaled the most delicate odors. 
 She started more than once as she arranged the un- 
 dulating folds of the green damask above the bed 
 and noticed the graceful fall of the flowered drapery 
 beneath which she concealed it. 
 
 Such preparations are always accompanied by an 
 indefinable secret bliss, and cause such delectable 
 emotion that a woman often forgets all her doubts 
 in such pleasurable employment, as Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil forgot hers. Is there not a touch of 
 religious feeling in this infinitude of pains taken for 
 the pleasure of a loved one who is not present to 
 see and to reward them, but who will pay for them 
 later with the approving smile that these flattering 
 preparations, always so well understood, call forth ? 
 Women at such times abandon themselves in antici- 
 pation, so to speak, to their love, and there is not 
 one who does not say to herself, as Mademoiselle 
 de Verneuil thought : " To-night, I shall be very 
 happy ! " The most innocent of them inscribes
 
 446 THE CHOUANS 
 
 that grateful hope on the least prominent folds of 
 the silk or muslin ; then, insensibly, the harmony 
 she establishes about her imparts to everything a 
 countenance on which love glows. In the centre of 
 that sphere, so full of voluptuous meaning to her, 
 things become beings, witnesses ; and she at once 
 makes them accessories to all her future joys. 
 With every movement, with every thought, she 
 orathers courage to rob the future. Soon she ceases 
 to expect, she ceases to hope, she upbraids the 
 silence and the slightest sound seems ominous to 
 her ; at last, doubt places its hooked fingers on her 
 heart, she burns, she trembles, she writhes in the 
 grasp of a thought that takes the form of a purely 
 physical force ; it is alternately a triumph and a 
 torture, which, except for the hope of pleasure to 
 come, she could not endure. 
 
 Twenty times Mademoiselle de Verneuil had 
 drawn aside the curtains, in the hope of seeing a 
 column of smoke rising above the cliffs ; but the fog 
 seemed from moment to moment to take on a darker 
 tinge of gray, and her imagination finally discovered 
 presages of evil therein. At last, in a burst of im- 
 patience she dropped the curtain, vowing that she 
 would not raise it again. She looked discontentedly 
 about the room to which she had given a soul and a 
 voice, asking herself if it was to be all in vain, and 
 that thought reminded her of what was still to be 
 done. 
 
 " Here, little one," she said to Francine, beckon- 
 ing her into a dressing-room which adjoined her
 
 THE CHOUANS 447 
 
 bedroom and was lighted by a bull's-eye looking out 
 upon the dark corner where the fortifications of the 
 town joined the steep cliffs of the Promenade, " put 
 things to rights here, so that it will look as nice as 
 possible. As for the salon you may leave that in 
 disorder, if you choose," she added, accompanying 
 the words with one of those smiles that women 
 reserve for their private circle, and whose piquant 
 delicacy men can never understand. 
 
 "Oh! how pretty you are!" cried the little 
 Breton. 
 
 ** Ah ! mad as we all are, will not our lover al- 
 ways be our most beautiful ornament ? " 
 
 Francine left her lying languidly on the ottoman, 
 and withdrew step by step, divining that, whether 
 he loved her or not, her mistress would never be- 
 tray Montauran. 
 
 ** Are you sure of this that you tell me, old 
 woman ? " said Hulot to Barbette, whom he recog- 
 nized when she entered Foug^res. 
 
 " Have you a pair of eyes ? Just look at the 
 rocks of Saint-Sulpice, good man, to the right of 
 Saint-Leonard." 
 
 Corentin turned his eyes toward the summit in 
 the direction indicated by Barbette's finger ; and as 
 the mist was beginning to fade away, he could see 
 distinctly the column of whitish smoke mentioned 
 by Galope-Chopine's widow. 
 
 ** But when will he come, eh, old woman ? This 
 evening or to-night ? "
 
 448 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " I don't know anythin<^ about that, goodman," 
 was Barbette's reply. 
 
 " Why do you betray your party ? " said Hulot 
 hastily, leading the peasant a few steps away from 
 Corentin. 
 
 " Ah ! Monseigneur le general, look at my boy's 
 foot ! It is soaked in the blood of my man who was 
 killed by the chuins, saving your presence, like a 
 calf, to punish him for the three words you got out 
 of me, day before yesterday, when I was working 
 in the field. Take my boy, as long as you've taken 
 his father and mother from him, but make a true 
 Blue of him, goodman, and let him kill lots of 
 chuins! See, here's two hundred crowns, keep 
 them for him ; if they're used carefully, they'll 
 carry him a long way, for his father was twelve 
 years saving them." 
 
 Hulot gazed in amazement at the pale, wrinkled 
 peasant, whose eyes were dry. 
 
 " But what's going to become of you, mother? " 
 he said. " It's better for you to keep the money." 
 
 " Oh ! as for me," she said, shaking her head 
 sadly, "1 don't need anything now! You might 
 lock me up in the deepest part of the Tour de Melu- 
 sine " — and she pointed to one of the towers of the 
 chateau — "the chtdns would find a way to get in 
 and kill me!" 
 
 She kissed her son with a sombre expression of 
 grief, looked earnestly at him, shed a tear or two, 
 looked at him again and disappeared. 
 
 "Commandant," said Corentin, "this is one of
 
 THE CHOUANS 449 
 
 those opportunities which, in order to be turned to 
 the greatest advantage, demand two good heads 
 rather than one. We know everything and we 
 know nothing. To have Mademoiselle de Verneuil's 
 house surrounded at once would be to turn her 
 against us. You and I, your contre-Chouans and 
 your two battalions aren't strong enough to contend 
 with that girl if she takes it into her head to save 
 her ci-devant. The fellow is a courtier and conse- 
 quently cunning ; he's a young man and a man of 
 heart. We shall never be able to take him when he 
 first comes to Foug^res. Indeed, perhaps he's here 
 already. Should we make domiciliary visits ? An 
 absurd idea ! It does no good, it gives the alarm, 
 and it angers the inhabitants." 
 
 " I am going," said Hulot testily, "to order the 
 sentry at Saint-Leonard post to extend his beat 
 three paces ; that will bring him opposite Mademoi- 
 selle de Verneuil's house. I shall agree on a signal 
 with every sentry, I shall remain at the guard-house, 
 and when I am informed of the entrance of any 
 young man whatsoever, I shall take a corporal and 
 four men and — " 
 
 " And," exclaimed Corentin, interrupting the im- 
 petuous soldier, " if the young man isn't the mar- 
 quis, if the marquis doesn't come in at the gate, if 
 he's already at Mademoiselle de Verneuil's, if — 
 if—.? " 
 
 Thereupon he looked at the commandant with an 
 
 air of superiority in which there was something so 
 
 insulting that the old officer cried : 
 29
 
 450 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Ten thousand thunders ! go about your business, 
 citizen of hell ! Isn't this my concern ? If that 
 cockchafer falls into one of my guard-houses, I must 
 have him shot; if I learn that he's in a house, I 
 must have the house surrounded, catch him and 
 shoot him ! But deuce take me if I propose to 
 cudgel my brains in order to throw mud on my uni- 
 form." 
 
 " Commandant, the letter of the three ministers 
 orders you to obey Mademoiselle de Verneuil." 
 
 "Citizen, let her come herself, and I shall see 
 what I have to do." 
 
 " Very good, citizen," rejoined Corentin haughtily, 
 " she won't be long. She will tell you herself the 
 hour and the moment when the ci-devant will be in 
 the town. Perhaps she won't be easy until she has 
 seen you posting sentinels and surrounding her 
 house ! " 
 
 " The devil has turned man ! " said the old chef 
 de demi-hrigade to himself in a grieved tone, as he 
 watched Corentin hurrying up the Queen's Stair- 
 case, near which this scene had taken place, and 
 thence to Porte Saint-Leonard. — " He will put Citi- 
 zen Montauran in my hands, bound hand and foot," 
 continued Hulot, still speaking to himself, "and I 
 shall find myself in a scrape with a court-martial to 
 preside over. — After all," he added, shrugging his 
 shoulders, "the Gars is an enemy of the Republic, 
 he killed my poor Gerard, and it will be one noble 
 less. Deuce take them all ! " 
 
 He turned quickly on his heel and made a tour of
 
 THE CHOUANS 45 1 
 
 inspection of all the posts in town, whistling La Mar- 
 seillaise. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil was absorbed in one of 
 those meditations whose mysteries remain buried in 
 the depths of the mind, and whose innumerable con- 
 tradictory sentiments have often proved to those 
 who have fallen victims to them that one may live a 
 tempestuous and passionate life within four walls, 
 without even leaving the ottoman upon which one's 
 existence wears itself away. As she approached 
 the catastrophe of the drama she had come in search 
 of, the girl passed in review one by one the scenes 
 of love and wrath which had added such zest to her 
 life during the ten days that had elapsed since her 
 first meeting with the marquis. At that moment 
 she heard a man's footsteps in the salon adjoining 
 her bedroom ; she started ; the door opened, she 
 turned her head hastily and saw Corentin. 
 
 "Little trickster!" said the superior agent of 
 police, with a laugh, "so you are still possessed by 
 the desire to deceive me, eh .? Ah ! Marie ! Marie ! 
 you are playing a very dangerous game in not let- 
 ting me into the secret, in deciding on your plays 
 without consulting me. If the marquis has escaped 
 his fate — " 
 
 "It hasn't been your fault, has it ?" retorted 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil with profound irony. 
 " Monsieur," she continued in a serious tone, " by 
 what right do you intrude upon me again ? " 
 
 " Intrude upon you ? " he asked bitterly. 
 
 "You remind me," she replied with noble pride,
 
 452 THE CHOUANS 
 
 "that I am not in my own home. It may be that 
 you selected this house designedly in order to com- 
 mit your murders with greater security, I am going 
 from here ; I would go and live in a desert to avoid 
 seeing — " 
 
 "Spies, say the word!" interposed Corentin. 
 " But this house is neither yours nor mine, it belongs 
 to the government ; and, as for leaving it, you will 
 do nothing of the sort," he added, with a diabolical 
 glance at her. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil rose indignantly and 
 walked forward a few steps ; but she suddenly 
 stopped as she saw Corentin raise the curtain and 
 smile as he beckoned to her to come. 
 
 " Do you see that column of smoke ? " he said 
 with the profoundly calm expression that he knew 
 how to maintain upon his sallow face, however deep 
 his emotions might be. 
 
 "What connection can there be between my 
 going away and a lot of wretched weeds which some 
 one has set on fire ? " she asked. 
 
 "Why is your voice so .changed.?" retorted 
 Corentin. "My poor little girl," he added in an 
 undertone, " I know all ! The marquis is coming 
 to Fougeres to-day, and it is not with the idea of 
 betraying him to us that you have arranged your 
 boudoir, these flowers and these candles so vo- 
 luptuously." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil turned pale when she 
 read the marquis's death written in the eyes of that 
 tiger with human face, and she was conscious of a
 
 THE CHOUANS 453 
 
 love for her lover that approached delirium. Each 
 hair on her head caused her such atrocious pain that 
 she could not endure it, and she fell back on the 
 couch. Corentin stood for a moment with his arms 
 folded across his chest, half content to inflict torture 
 which avenged all the sarcasms and disdain which 
 that woman had heaped upon him, half grieved to 
 see a creature suffer whose yoke was always 
 pleasant to him, however heavy it might be. 
 
 " She loves him ! " he said in a hollow voice. 
 
 "Love him!" she cried, "oh! what does that 
 word mean ? — Corentin, he is my life, my soul, my 
 breath ! " 
 
 She threw herself at the man's feet, for his calm- 
 ness terrified her. 
 
 "Soul of clay," she said, "I would rather degrade 
 myself to save his life, than degrade myself to 
 take it from him ! I will save him at the price of all 
 my blood. Speak, what do you demand .-' " 
 
 Corentin started. 
 
 "■ I came to receive your orders, Marie," he said 
 in a gentle tone, raising her with graceful courtesy. 
 "Yes, Marie, your insults will not prevent my 
 being entirely at your service, provided that you 
 deceive me no more. You know, Marie, that no 
 one ever makes a fool of me with impunity." 
 
 " Ah ! if you want me to love you, Corentin, help 
 me to save him." 
 
 " Very good, at what hour is the marquis com- 
 ing .? " he said, forcing himself to ask the question 
 in a calm tone.
 
 454 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Alas ! I don't know at all." 
 
 They looked at each other in silence. 
 
 "I am lost," said Mademoiselle de Verneuil to 
 herself. 
 
 "She is deceiving me," thought Corentin. — 
 " Marie," he continued, " I have two maxims ; one 
 is never to believe a word of what women say, that 
 is the way to avoid being their dupe ; the other is 
 always to inquire if they haven't some interest in 
 doing the opposite of what they have said, and in 
 reversing the actions of which they are good enough 
 to entrust the secret to us. I think we understand 
 each other now ? " 
 
 "Perfectly," rejoined Mademoiselle de Verneuil. 
 
 "You wish for proofs of my good faith, but I 
 reserve them for the moment when you have given 
 me proofs of yours." 
 
 " Adieu, mademoiselle," said Corentin dryly. 
 
 " Come, come," said the young woman with a 
 smile, " sit down there and don't sulk, or I shall 
 fmd a way to save the marquis without your help. 
 As for the three hundred thousand francs that you 
 always see spread out before you, I can place them 
 on yonder mantel for you, in gold, the instant that 
 the marquis is in safety." 
 
 Corentin rose, recoiled a few steps and gazed 
 earnestly at Mademoiselle de Verneuil. 
 
 " You have become rich in a very short time ! " 
 he said in a tone whose bitterness was but ill dis- 
 guised. 
 
 " Montauran," said Marie, smiling compassion-
 
 THE CHOUANS 455 
 
 ately, " will himself offer you a much greater sum 
 for his ransom. So prove to me that you have the 
 means to protect him from all danger, and — " 
 
 " Can you not," cried Corentin suddenly, " assist 
 him to escape at the very moment of his arrival, as 
 Hulot does not know the hour, and — " 
 
 He checked himself as if apprehensive that he 
 had said too much. 
 
 " Why, is it really you who ask me to resort to 
 strategy ? " he continued, smiling in the most natural 
 way. " Look you, Marie, I am certain of your 
 loyalty. Promise me to make up to me for all I lose 
 in serving you, and 1 will put that blockhead of a 
 commandant to sleep so thoroughly that the marquis 
 will be as free at Fougeres as at Saint- James." 
 
 " I promise," replied the girl solemnly. 
 
 "Not that way," said he. "Swear by your 
 mother ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil trembled ; raising a 
 shaking hand, she took the oath demanded by the 
 spy, whose manner had suddenly undergone a 
 change. 
 
 " I am at your service," said Corentin. "Do not 
 deceive me and this evening you will bless me." 
 
 "I believe you, Corentin," cried Marie, deeply 
 moved. 
 
 She moved her head slightly by way of farewell, 
 and smiled upon him with mingled kindliness and 
 surprise when she saw the affectionate, melancholy 
 expression upon his face. 
 
 " What a ravishing creature ! " cried Corentin as
 
 456 THE CHOUANS 
 
 he left the house. "Shall I never possess her, to 
 make of her at once the instrument of my fortune 
 and the source of my pleasure ? — Throw herself at 
 my feet, she ! — Ah ! yes, the marquis must die. 
 And if I can't obtain the woman except by plunging 
 her into a mud hole, why, I'll do it. — However," he 
 said to himself, as he reached the square, whither 
 his steps were bent unconsciously, " it may be that 
 she is not suspicious of me now. A hundred thou- 
 sand crowns on the spot ! She thinks I'm a miser. 
 That was a trick, or else she has married him 
 already." 
 
 Corentin, lost in thought, dared not decide upon 
 any course. The mist, which the sun had scattered 
 about midday, gradually settled down once more 
 and became so dense, that he could no longer see 
 the trees, except those near at hand. 
 
 " Here's a fresh misfortune," he said to himself, 
 as he returned slowly to his apartments. " It is 
 impossible to see six feet ahead. The weather pro- 
 tects our lovers. The idea of watching a house that 
 is guarded by such a fog ! — Who's that ? " he cried, 
 seizing the arm of a stranger who had apparently 
 climbed up to the Promenade over the most danger- 
 ous rocks. 
 
 "It's me," was the artless reply in a childish 
 voice. 
 
 "Ah! it's the little fellow with the red foot. 
 Don't you want to revenge your father ? " queried 
 Corentin. 
 
 " Yes ! " said the child.
 
 THE CHOUANS 457 
 
 " Good. Do you know the Gars ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Better still. Well, don't leave me ; be quick 
 about whatever I tell you to do, and you shall finish 
 your mother's work and earn some big sous. Do 
 you like big sous ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You like big sous and you want to kill the Gars ; 
 1 will take care of you. — Well, Marie," he mused, 
 " you shall surrender him to us yourself ! She is too 
 hot-tempered to stop to reason about the blow I pro- 
 pose to deal her ; besides, passion never reflects. 
 She doesn't know the marquis's writing ; this is the 
 moment to lay the snare into which her disposition 
 will cause her to fall headlong. But Hulot is a 
 necessary factor in the success of my scheme and I 
 must go at once to see him." 
 
 At that moment. Mademoiselle de Verneuil and 
 Francine were deliberating as to the means of rescu- 
 ing the marquis from the suspicious generosity of 
 Corentin and Hulot's bayonets. 
 
 " I will go and warn him," cried the little Breton. 
 
 " Fool, do you know where he is ? Even I, as- 
 sisted by all the instincts of my heart, might seek 
 him a long while without finding him." 
 
 After considering a goodly number of such insane 
 projects, so easy of execution in the chimney cor- 
 ner. Mademoiselle de Verneuil cried : 
 
 " When I see him, his danger will inspire me ! " 
 
 Thereupon she determined, like all ardent spirits, 
 to postpone her decision until the last moment,
 
 458 THE CHOUANS 
 
 trusting to her star or to the instinctive adroitness 
 that rarely abandons women. Never, perhaps, had 
 her heart been so tortured. At times she sat as if 
 stupefied, with staring eyes, and again, at the 
 slightest noise, she shivered violently like a tree 
 almost uprooted, which the woodcutter jerks with 
 a rope to hasten its fall. Suddenly, a loud report, 
 produced by the discharge of a dozen muskets, rang 
 out in the distance. Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 turned pale, seized Francine's hand and exclaimed : 
 
 " I shall die — they have killed him ! " 
 
 The heavy footfall of a soldier was heard in the 
 salon. The terrified Francine rose and ushered in a 
 corporal. Having executed a military salute to 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, the Republican handed 
 her several letters, the paper being far from clean. 
 Receiving no reply from the young woman, he said 
 to her as he withdrew : 
 
 " From the commandant, madame." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, oppressed by sinister 
 forebodings, read the following letter, written ap- 
 parently in haste by Hulot : 
 
 " Mademoiselle, my contre-Chouans have seized one of the 
 Gars's messengers, who has been shot. The letter which I 
 transmit herewith, found among those intercepted, may be of 
 some use to you ; etc." 
 
 " Thank Heaven, it wasn't he that they killed ! " 
 she cried, throwing the letter into the fire. 
 
 She breathed more freely and proceeded to read 
 with avidity the note enclosed ; it was from the
 
 THE CHOUANS 459 
 
 marquis and seemed to be addressed to Madame du 
 Gua : 
 
 " No, my angel, I shall not go to La Vivetiere to-night. 
 To-night you will lose your wager with the count, and I shall 
 triumph over the Republic in the person of that seductive 
 creature, who is certainly worth one night, you must agree. 
 That will be the only real advantage I shall win in this cam- 
 paign, for La Vendee is about to make submission. There is 
 nothing more to be done in France, and we will go to England 
 together of course. But business to-morrow ! " 
 
 The note dropped from her hands, she closed her 
 eyes, said not a word, but sat with her head thrown 
 back against a cushion. After a long pause she 
 looked up at the clock ; it was four o'clock. 
 
 "And monsieur keeps me waiting!" she said 
 with cruel irony. 
 
 "Oh! suppose he could not come!" cried Fran- 
 cine. 
 
 " If he should not come," said Marie in a hollow 
 voice, " I would go to meet him ! But no, he 
 cannot be long now. Francine, am I very lovely.? " 
 
 " You are very pale ! " 
 
 "Look about you!" continued Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil, " see this perfumed chamber, these flow- 
 ers, these lights, this intoxicating vapor ; is it all 
 adapted to convey the idea of a celestial life to the 
 man whom I propose to plunge to-night into the de- 
 lights of love.? " 
 
 " What is the matter, mademoiselle? " 
 
 " I am betrayed, deceived, abused, fooled, gulled, 
 lost, and 1 propose to kill him, to tear him to pieces I
 
 46o THE CHOUANS 
 
 — Yes, there was always in his manner a disdain that 
 he concealed but poorly, and that I chose not to see ! 
 Oh ! it will kill me ! — Fool that I am ! " she added, 
 with a laugh ; " he is coming, and I have the night 
 before me to teach him that, married or not, a man 
 who has once possessed me cannot give me up. I 
 will apportion the vengeance to the insult, and he 
 shall die in despair. 1 believed that he had some 
 greatness of soul, but he is evidently the son of a 
 lackey ! Certainly he has deceived me most 
 adroitly, for it is hard to believe that a man capable 
 of giving me over without pity to the tender mercies 
 of Pille-Miche, can descend to trickery worthy of 
 Scapin. It is so easy to make a fool of a woman who 
 loves you, that it is the most dastardly cowardice. 
 Let him kill me, well and good ; but to lie, he, whom 
 I had imagined to be so great ! To the scaffold 1 to 
 the scaffold ! Ah ! I would like to see him guil- 
 lotined. Am I really so cruel ? He will go to his 
 death covered with kisses and caresses that will 
 have been worth twenty years of life to him." 
 
 " Marie," said Francine with angelic sweetness, 
 " be your lover's victim, as so many women have 
 been, but do not be either his mistress or his execu- 
 tioner. Keep his image in the depths of your heart, 
 without doing anything to make it a cruel reminder 
 to yourself. If there were no pleasure in a hopeless 
 love, what would become of us, poor creatures that 
 we are? That God of whom you never think, 
 Marie, will reward us for having followed our calling 
 on earth : to love and to suffer ! "
 
 THE CHOUANS 46 1 
 
 " Little dear," replied Mademoiselle de Verneuil, 
 patting Francine's hand, " your voice is very sweet 
 and very seductive ! Reason has many attractions 
 in your person ! I would like to obey you — " 
 
 " You will forgive him, you won't betray him? " 
 
 '• Hush, don't mention that man again. Compared 
 with him, Corentin is a noble creature. Do you 
 understand me ? " 
 
 She rose, concealing beneath a face of ghastly 
 calmness, the frenzy of her mind and an inextin- 
 guishable thirst for vengeance. Her slow and meas- 
 ured gait indicated that her resolution was irrevo- 
 cable. Abandoned to her thoughts, devouring the 
 outrage inflicted upon her and too proud to avow the 
 most trivial of her torments, she went to the guard- 
 house at Porte Saint-Leonard to ask where the com- 
 mandant lived. She had no sooner left the house 
 than Corentin entered. 
 
 " Oh ! Monsieur Corentin," cried Francine, " if 
 you take any interest in that young man, save him ! 
 Mademoiselle means to betray him. This wretched 
 paper destroyed everything." 
 
 Corentin carelessly took the letter from her hand, 
 asking : 
 
 " Where has she gone ? " 
 
 "1 don't know." 
 
 *' I will go and save her from her own despair," 
 he said. 
 
 He disappeared, still holding the letter, hurried 
 from the house, and said to the little gars, who was 
 playing in front of the door :
 
 462 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Which way did the lady go who has just come 
 out of the house ? " 
 
 Galope-Chopine's son walked a few steps with 
 Corentin and pointed to the sloping street that led 
 to Porte Saint-Leonard. 
 
 "She went that way," he said without hesita- 
 tion, obeying the idea of vengeance which his 
 mother had breathed into his heart. 
 
 At that moment, four men in disguise entered 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil's house, unseen by the 
 boy or by Corentin. 
 
 " Return to your post," said the spy. " Pretend 
 to amuse yourself playing with the latches of the 
 blinds, but keep a good lookout everywhere, even 
 on the roofs." 
 
 Corentin darted swiftly away in the direction in- 
 dicated by the little fellow, thought that he recog- 
 nized Mademoiselle de Verneuil in the fog, and did 
 in fact overtake her just as she reached the Saint- 
 Leonard post. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " he said, offering her 
 his arm. " You are pale, what has happened ? Is 
 it proper for you to go out thus all alone ? take my 
 arm." 
 
 " Where is the commandant ? " she asked. 
 
 The words were hardly out of her mouth when 
 she heard the steps of a reconnoitring party outside 
 the gate, and soon distinguished Hulot's loud voice 
 amid the tumult : 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dieu! " he cried, " I never knew it 
 harder work to see to make the rounds than it is
 
 THE CHOUANS 463 
 
 just now. That ci-devant must have ordered the 
 weather." 
 
 " What are you complaining about } " interposed 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil, grasping his arm, "this 
 fog will conceal revenge as well as perfidy. Com- 
 mandant," she added in a low tone, "you and I 
 must take such measures that the Gars can't es- 
 cape to-day." 
 
 "Is he at your house?" he asked in a voice 
 whose evident emotion betrayed his surprise. 
 
 "No," she replied, "but you must give me a 
 sure man and I will send him to warn you of the 
 marquis's arrival." 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " said Corentin 
 earnestly to Marie ; " a soldier in your house would 
 frighten him off, but a child, and 1 can find one, will 
 arouse no suspicion." 
 
 " Commandant," continued Mademoiselle de Ver- 
 neuil, " under cover of this fog, which you curse so, 
 you can surround my house at once. Station soldiers 
 everywhere. Place a detachment in Saint-Leonard's 
 church to make sure of the Esplanade, upon which 
 the windows of my salon open. Post men on the 
 Promenade ; for, although the window of my bed- 
 room is twenty feet from the ground, despair some- 
 times gives one courage to jump from a dangerous 
 height. Listen ! I shall probably send this gentle- 
 man out through the door ; therefore put none but a 
 very brave man on duty there ; for," she said with 
 a sigh, " no one can deny his gallantry, and he will 
 defend himself ! "
 
 464 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " Gudin ! " shouted the commandant. 
 
 The young Fougerais darted forward from the 
 troop that had returned with Hulot and had drawn 
 up at some little distance. 
 
 " Hark ye, my boy," said the old soldier in an 
 undertone, "this deuce of a girl is going to put the 
 Gars into our hands, I don't know why, and it's 
 none of our business. You will take ten men with 
 you and station yourselves so as to guard the cul-de- 
 sac at the end of which her house stands ; but ar- 
 range it so that neither you nor your men can be 
 
 seen." 
 
 " Yes, commandant, I know the place." 
 
 "Well, my boy," rejoined Hulot, "Beau-Pied 
 will come from me to tell you when the time has 
 come for you to play with the little fellow. Try to 
 reach the marquis yourself, and if you can kill him, 
 so that I won't have to order him shot judicially, 
 you shall be a lieutenant within a fortnight or my name 
 is not Hulot. — Here, mademoiselle, is a veteran who 
 won't sulk," he said to the young woman, pointing 
 to Gudin. " He will keep close watch in front of 
 your house, and if the ci-devant comes out or tries 
 to go in, he won't miss him." 
 
 Gudin marched away with ten soldiers. 
 
 " Do you know what you are doing .? " said 
 Corentin under his breath to Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil. 
 
 She made no reply but seemed to watch with a 
 sort of satisfaction the departure of the men, who 
 went to take their stations on the Promenade under
 
 THE CHOUANS 465 
 
 the orders of the sub-lieutenant, and those who, fol- 
 lowing Hulot's instructions, stationed themselves 
 along the dark sides of Saint-Leonard's church. 
 
 " There are some houses connected with mine," 
 she said to the commandant, " surround them also. 
 Let us not pave the way for repentance by neglect- 
 ing a single precaution." 
 
 " She is mad," thought Hulot. 
 
 "Am 1 not a prophet?" whispered Corentin in 
 his ear. " As for the child I propose to put in her 
 house, it's the little fellow with the bloody foot ; 
 
 so—" 
 
 He did not finish. Mademoiselle de Verneuil had 
 darted suddenly away in the direction of her house, 
 whither he followed her, whistling like a happy man ; 
 when he overtook her, she was just at her threshold, 
 where he again found Galope-Chopine's son. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he said, "take this little fellow 
 with you, you can have no more innocent or more 
 active messenger than he." Addressing the boy, 
 he added: "when you have seen the Gars come 
 into the house, run away, whatever anyone may 
 say to you, come to me at the guard-house and I 
 will give you enough to keep you in cakes for the 
 rest of your life." 
 
 Having, so to speak, breathed these words into 
 the boy's ear, Corentin was conscious of a strong 
 pressure of the hand from the young Breton, who 
 followed Mademoiselle de Verneuil. 
 
 " Now, my good friends, have all the explanations 
 you choose ! " cried Corentin when the door closed. 
 30
 
 466 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " If you make love, my little marquis, it will be on 
 your winding-sheet." 
 
 But, unable to make up his mind to lose sight of 
 the fatal house, he betook himself to the Promenade, 
 where he found the commandant busily issuing 
 orders. It soon grew dark. Two hours passed and 
 the various sentinels, stationed at equal distances, 
 had noticed nothing calculated to arouse a suspicion 
 that the marquis had passed through the triple cor- 
 don of watchful men in hiding, who surrounded the 
 three sides of the Tour du Papegaut on which it was 
 accessible. Twenty times had Corentin gone from 
 the Promenade to the guard-house, twenty times had 
 his expectations been disappointed, and his youthful 
 emissary had not yet come in search of him. Ab- 
 sorbed in thought, the spy walked slowly along the 
 Promenade, a prey to the martyrdom caused by the 
 clashing of three fierce passions : love, avarice, am- 
 bition. Eight o'clock struck on all the clocks. The 
 moon rose late. Therefore the fog and the darkness 
 enveloped in awesome obscurity the locality where 
 the drama conceived by him was about to be brought 
 to a close. The agent of police was able to impose 
 silence on his passions, he folded his arms resolutely 
 across his breast and did not remove his eyes from 
 the window that shone like a luminous phantom 
 above the tower. When his steps led him toward 
 the valleys at the foot of the precipitous cliffs, he 
 gazed mechanically at the fog streaked here and 
 there by the pale gleams of the few lights that shone 
 in the houses of the town or the suburbs, above and
 
 THE CHOUANS 467 
 
 below the ramparts. The profound silence that 
 reigned was broken only by the murmur of the Nan- 
 con, by the lugubrious strokes of the clock at regular 
 intervals, by the heavy tread of the sentinels, or by 
 the clash of weapons when the guards were relieved 
 from hour to hour. Everything had taken on an air 
 of solemnity, man and nature. 
 
 "It's as dark as it is in a wolf's mouth," said 
 Pille-Miche at that moment. 
 
 " Go ahead," replied Marche-a-Terre, " and keep 
 as quiet as a dead dog." 
 
 " I hardly dare to breathe," said the Chouan. 
 
 " If the man that has just let a stone roll down 
 wants his heart to be a sheath for my knife, he has 
 only to do it again ! " muttered Marche-a-Terre, in 
 a voice so low that it was drowned by the shivering 
 murmur of the waters of the Nanjon. 
 
 " Why, I did it," said Pille-Miche. 
 
 " Very well, old bag of sous," retorted the leader, 
 " crawl on your belly like an angle-worm, or we 
 shall leave our carcasses here before our time." 
 
 " I say, Marche-a-Terre," continued the incorri- 
 gible Pille-Miche, using his hands to assist him in 
 crawling up to his comrade, and speaking in his ear 
 in so low a tone that the Chouans behind them could 
 not hear a syllable : " I say, Marche-a-Terre, if we 
 can believe our grande garce, there must be some 
 rich plunder up yonder. Shall we two divide it } " 
 
 "Listen, Pille-Miche!" said Marche-a-Terre, 
 stopping short, flat on his belly. 
 
 The whole party imitated his movement, the
 
 468 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Chouans were so overdone by the difficulties en- 
 countered in climbing the precipice. 
 
 " 1 know you," continued Marche-a-Terre, " for 
 one of those honest John Grab-alls who like to give 
 blows quite as well as take them, when that's the 
 only choice. We haven't come here to put on dead 
 men's shoes, we are devils against devils, and woe 
 to those who have the shortest claws ! The grande 
 garce has sent us here to save the Gars. He's there, 
 see, lift up your dog-nose and look at that window 
 over the tower ! " 
 
 At that moment the clocks struck midnight. The 
 moon rose and gave to the fog the appearance of 
 white smoke. Pille-Miche seized Marche-a-Terre's 
 arm and pointed silently to the triangular blades of 
 divers gleaming bayonets ten feet above them. 
 
 " The Blues are there already," said Pille-iWiche ; 
 " we shan't be strong enough." 
 
 " Patience ! " replied Marche-a-Terre ; " if I 
 didn't make any mistake when I looked about this 
 morning, we ought to find, at the foot of the Tour du 
 Papegaut, between the ramparts and the Promenade, 
 a little space where they throw dung, and we can 
 let ourselves drop on that as if it was a bed." 
 
 " If Saint Labre would change the blood that is 
 going to flow, into good cider," said Pille-Miche, " the 
 Fougerais would have a good stock to-morrow." 
 
 Marche-a-Terre covered his friend's mouth with 
 his broad hand ; then a whispered word from him 
 ran from man to man till it reached the last Chouan 
 hanging in the air over the heather that grew among
 
 THE CHOUANS 469 
 
 the slaty rocks. In truth, Corentin's ear was too 
 quick not to have heard the rustling of the shrubs 
 as the Chouans brushed against them, or the faint 
 sound of stones falling to the foot of the precipice — 
 and he was at the edge of the esplanade. Marche-a- 
 Terre, who seemed to possess the gift of seeing in 
 the darkness, or whose senses, being continually on 
 the alert, had acquired the delicacy of those of 
 savages, had caught a glimpse of Corentin ; per- 
 haps, like a well-trained dog, he had scented him. 
 In vain did the police diplomatist listen in the silence 
 and gaze at the natural wall formed by the schist, he 
 could discover nothing. If the baffling whiteness of 
 the fog enabled him to see a Chouan or two, he took 
 them for fragments of rock, the human bodies so 
 closely resembled lifeless nature. 
 
 The danger of the band was of short duration. 
 Corentin's attention was attracted by a very dis 
 tinct noise at the other end of the Promenade, at the 
 point where the sustaining wall came to an end and 
 the steep slope of the cliff began. A path cut along 
 the edge of the schist and leading to the Queen's 
 Staircase ended just at that point of intersection. 
 Just as Corentin arrived there, he saw a figure rise 
 before him as if by magic, and when he put out his 
 hand to seize the creature, fantastic or real, whose 
 intentions he could not believe to be good from his 
 standpoint, he encountered the rounded, yielding 
 figure of a woman. 
 
 " The devil take you, my dear ! " he murmured. 
 ** If you hadn't fallen in with me, you might have
 
 470 THE CHOUANS 
 
 got a bullet through your head. But where are you 
 coming from and where are you going to, at this 
 time of night ? Are you dumb ? — Is it really a 
 woman after all ? " he said to himself. 
 
 As her silence was becoming suspicious, the un- 
 known replied in a voice that indicated great alarm : 
 
 "Oh ! good man, I'm just going home from a 
 wake." 
 
 " It's the marquis's pretended mother ! " said 
 Corentin to himself . "Let's see what she's going 
 to do. — Well, go this way, old lady," he continued, 
 aloud, pretending not to recognize her. " To the 
 left, if you don't want to be shot ! " 
 
 He stood still for a moment ; but when he saw 
 Madame du Gua going toward the Tour du Pape- 
 gaut, he followed her at a distance with devilish 
 adroitness. During that ill-fated meeting, the Chou- 
 ans had skilfully landed on the dung-heap to which 
 Marche-a-Terre had guided them. 
 
 " There's the grande garce ! " said Marche-a-Terre 
 to himself, drawing himself up against the tower as 
 a bear might have done. — " We are here," he said 
 to her. 
 
 " Good ! " replied Madame du Gua. " If you can 
 find a ladder in the house with the garden that 
 comes to within six feet of this pile, the Gars will 
 be saved. Do you see that bull's-eye window up 
 yonder ? it's in a dressing-room adjoining the bed- 
 room, and we must get there. The side of the 
 tower at the foot of which you are standing is the 
 only one that isn't surrounded. The horses are
 
 THE CHOUANS 471 
 
 ready, and, if you have kept the ford of the Nanjon 
 clear, we can take him out of danger in a quarter of 
 an hour, mad as he is. But if that hussy tries to go 
 with him, stab her ! " 
 
 Corentin, when he saw, moving cautiously about 
 in the shadow, some of the indistinct shapes he had 
 taken at first for rocks, went at once to the post 
 at Porte Saint-Leonard, where he found the com- 
 mandant asleep, fully dressed, on the camp bed. 
 
 "Let him alone!" said Beau-Pied roughly to 
 Corentin, " he's only just lain down." 
 
 " The Chouans are here ! " cried Corentin in 
 Hulot's ear, 
 
 " Impossible, but so much the better ! " said the 
 commandant, half asleep as he was; "at least we 
 shall have a fight ! " 
 
 When Hulot reached the Promenade, Corentin 
 pointed out to him the strange positions occupied by 
 the Chouans in the shadow of the tower. 
 
 " They must have fooled or strangled the sentinel 
 I posted between the Queen's Staircase and the 
 chateau," cried the commandant. "Ah! what an 
 infernal fog ! But, patience ! I'll send fifty men 
 under a lieutenant, to the foot of the cliff. We 
 mustn't attack them there, for the brutes are so 
 tough, that you could roll them down the precipice 
 like stones, without breaking a bone." 
 
 The cracked bell in the church tower struck two 
 as the commandant returned to the Promenade, after 
 taking the strictest military precautions, in order to 
 make sure of the Chouans commanded by Marche-a-
 
 472 THE CHOUANS 
 
 Terre. At that moment, all the posts having been 
 doubled, Mademoiselle de Verneuil's house had be- 
 come the centre of a small army. The commandant 
 found Corentin absorbed in the contemplation of the 
 window that overlooked the Tour du Papegaut. 
 
 "Citizen," said Hulot, "1 believe that the 
 ci-devant is making fools of us, for nothing has 
 stirred as yet." 
 
 " He is there ! " cried Corentin, pointing to the 
 window. " 1 saw a man's shadow on the curtains. 
 — I don't understand what has become of my little 
 gars : they must have killed him or bribed him. 
 Look, commandant, do you see } there's a man ! 
 let us go ! " 
 
 " I won't go and pull him out of bed, tonnerre de 
 Dieu! If he went in, he will come out; Gudin 
 won't miss him," replied Hulot, who had his rea- 
 sons for waiting. 
 
 " Commandant, I order you in the name of the 
 law to march upon that house at once." 
 
 " You're a pretty jackanapes to undertake to 
 make me do anything ! " 
 
 Unmoved by the commandant's wrath, Corentin 
 said coldly : 
 
 "You will obey me! Here is an order in due 
 form, signed by the Minister of War, which will 
 compel you to do it," he added, producing a docu- 
 ment from his pocket. " Do you suppose that we 
 are such fools as to let that girl act as she chooses ? 
 We are putting down civil war, and the magnitude 
 of the result justifies the paltriness of the means."
 
 THE CHOUANS 473 
 
 " I take the liberty, citizen, to tell you to go to — 
 Do you understand me ? Enough. Left foot first, 
 and leave me in peace — off you go ! " 
 
 " But read ! " said Corentin. 
 
 " Don't try to make a fool of me with your 
 functions," cried Hulot, indignant at receiving orders 
 from a creature he considered so contemptible. 
 
 At that moment Galope-Chopine's son appeared 
 among them like a rat coming out of his hole. 
 
 " The Gars is on the way ! " he cried. 
 
 "Which way ?" 
 
 " By Rue Saint-Leonard." 
 
 " Beau-Pied," said Hulot, in the ear of the 
 corporal who stood near by, " run and tell your lieu- 
 tenant to close in on the house and deliver a brisk 
 little fire, you understand ! — File left, forward to 
 the tower, you fellows ! " cried the commandant.
 
 To understand the final catastrophe clearly, it is 
 necessary to return with Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 to her house. 
 
 When the passions reach a climax, they subject 
 us to a form of intoxication much more powerful 
 than the paltry excitement caused by wine or opium. 
 The lucidity which then characterizes one's ideas, 
 and the delicate sensitiveness of the too highly- 
 strung senses, produce the strangest and most 
 unexpected effects. Finding themselves under the 
 tyranny of a single thought, some people perceive 
 clearly the least perceptible objects, while the 
 most palpable things are to them as if they 
 did not exist. Mademoiselle de Verneuil was 
 under the influence of this intoxication which 
 makes of real life a life similar to that of the som- 
 nambulist, when, after reading the marquis's letter, 
 she lost no time in so arranging everything that he 
 could not escape her vengeance, as, but a short time 
 be^re, she had prepared everything for the first 
 holiday of her love. But when she saw that her 
 house was carefully surrounded, at her command, 
 by a triple row of bayonets, a sudden light flashed 
 through her mind. She passed her own conduct in 
 review and realized with a sort of horror that she 
 
 (475)
 
 476 THE CHOUANS 
 
 had committed a crime. In the first impulse of anx- 
 iety, she darted hastily toward her door and stood 
 there a moment, motionless, trying hard to reflect, 
 but unable to arrive at any conclusion. She was so 
 utterly perplexed as to what she had been doing, 
 that she wondered why she was standing in her 
 vestibule, holding a strange child by the hand. 
 Thousands of sparks were floating in the air before 
 her like tongues of fire. She began to walk in order 
 to shake off the horrible torpor that enveloped her ; 
 but, like one who is sleeping, no object appeared to 
 her in its true form or colors. She grasped the little 
 fellow's hand with a force that was not usual with 
 her, and dragged him along so fast that she seemed 
 to possess the activity of a madman. She saw noth- 
 ing at all in the salon as she passed through, and yet 
 she was saluted by three men who stood aside to 
 allow her to pass. 
 
 " Here she comes ! " said one of them. 
 
 " She is very beautiful ! " cried the priest. 
 
 " Yes," assented the first speaker ; " but how 
 pale and excited she is ! " 
 
 "And absent-minded!" added the third, "she 
 doesn't see us." 
 
 At her bedroom, Marie perceived Francine's sweet 
 face beaming with joy. 
 
 " He is here, Marie," she whispered. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil came to herself, recov- 
 ered her power of reflection, looked at the child, 
 whose hand she held, recognized him and said to 
 Francine :
 
 THE CHOUANS 477 
 
 " Lock this boy up, and if you value my life, be 
 sure to not let him escape." 
 
 As she pronounced those words slowly, she had 
 fixed her eyes upon the door of her bedroom, upon 
 which they remained fastened with such ghastly im- 
 mobility, that one would have said she could see her 
 victim through the heavy panels. She softly opened 
 the door and closed it without turning, for she saw 
 the marquis standing before the hearth. The young 
 nobleman's costume, without being too elegant, had 
 a certain festal appearance that added to the beauty 
 with which all women endow their lovers. At the 
 sight, Mademoiselle de Verneuil recovered all her 
 self-possession. Her lips, rigidly contracted, although 
 half open, disclosed her white teeth and wore the 
 semblance of a smile, far more terrible than voluptu- 
 ous in expression. She walked slowly toward the 
 young man, and, pointing to the clock, said with as- 
 sumed gayety : 
 
 " A man worthy of being loved is surely worth 
 the trouble of waiting for." 
 
 But, overborne by the violence of her emotions, 
 she fell upon the sofa that stood by the fireplace. 
 
 " My dear Marie, you are very fascinating when 
 you are angry ! " said the marquis, sitting down be- 
 side her, taking the hand which she abandoned to 
 him and imploring a glance which she refused him. 
 — "1 trust," he continued in a tender, caressing 
 voice, "that Marie will be very sorry in a moment 
 that she has hidden her face from her happy hus- 
 band."
 
 478 THE CHOUANS 
 
 At that she turned and looked him in the eye. 
 
 " What means that terrible look ? " he laughed. 
 " But your hand is burning hot ! — My love, what is 
 the matter ?" 
 
 " My love ! " she repeated in a lov/, trembling 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes," he said, kneeling in front of her and 
 taking both her hands which he covered with kisses ; 
 " yes, my love, I am yours for life.'* 
 
 She pushed him violently away and rose. Her 
 features contracted, she laughed as madmen laugh, 
 and exclaimed : 
 
 " You don't believe a word of it, vile wretch, viler 
 than the most infamous criminal ! " 
 
 She pounced upon the dagger that lay beside a 
 vase of flowers, and waved it within two inches of 
 the astounded young man's breast. 
 
 " Bah ! " she said, throwing the weapon down 
 again, "I don't esteem you enough to kill you! 
 Your blood is too vile to be shed by soldiers even, 
 and I can think of nobody but the executioner — " 
 
 These last words she uttered with difficulty in a 
 low voice, and stamped her foot like an impatient, 
 spoiled child. The marquis approached her and 
 tried to take hold of her. 
 
 " Don't touch me ! " she cried, recoiling from him 
 in horror. 
 
 "She is mad!" said the marquis aloud, at his 
 wits' end. 
 
 " Yes, mad," she repeated, ** but not mad enough 
 to be your plaything. — What could I not forgive to
 
 THE CHOUANS 479 
 
 passion ! but to seek to possess me without love, 
 and to write to that — " 
 
 " To whom have I written ? " he asked with an 
 amazement that certainly was not feigned. 
 
 " To that chaste creature who wanted to kill 
 me! " 
 
 At that the marquis turned pale, grasped the back 
 of the armchair upon which his hand was rest- 
 ing, so fiercely that he almost crushed it, and 
 
 cried : 
 
 " If Madame du Gua has dared to resort to any 
 
 infamous scheme — " 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil looked for the letter, 
 but could not find it ; she called Francine. 
 
 " Where's that letter ? " 
 
 " Monsieur Corentin took it." 
 
 " Corentin ! Ah ! 1 understand it all ; he wrote 
 the letter and deceived me, as he only can deceive, 
 with diabolical cunning." 
 
 With a piercing shriek, she fell upon the sofa, and 
 a flood of tears burst from her eyes. Suspicion, like 
 certainty, was horrible. The marquis threw himself 
 at his mistress's feet and pressed her to his heart, 
 saying ten times over the only words he could find 
 to utter : 
 
 " Why weep, my angel ? What harm has been 
 done ? Your insults overflow with love. Do not 
 weep, for 1 love you ! I love you still ! " 
 
 Suddenly he felt her arms embracing him with 
 supernatural strength, and she said amid her sobs : 
 
 ** Do you love me still ? '*
 
 480 THE CHOUANS 
 
 "You doubt it!" he replied in a tone that was 
 almost melancholy. 
 
 She extricated herself abruptly from his arms and 
 ran back two or three steps, as if alarmed or con- 
 fused. 
 
 " Do I doubt it ? — " she cried. 
 
 She saw upon the marquis's face a smile of such 
 gentle irony that the words expired on her lips. She 
 allowed him to take her by the hand and lead her to 
 the door. At the farther end of the salon, Marie 
 saw an altar that had been hastily erected during 
 her absence. The priest was dressed in his sacer- 
 dotal robes. Two lighted tapers cast a light as soft 
 as hope about the room. In the two men who had 
 saluted her, she recognized the Comte de Bauvan 
 and the Baron du Guenic, two witnesses selected by 
 Montauran. 
 
 " Will you still refuse me ? " the marquis asked 
 in a low voice. 
 
 At the sight she stepped quickly back into her 
 bedroom, fell upon her knees, raised her hands im- 
 ploringly to the marquis and cried : 
 
 " Oh ! pardon ! pardon ! pardon ! " 
 
 Her voice died away, her head fell back, her eyes 
 closed and she lay in the marquis's arms and Fran- 
 cine's as if she were dead. When she opened her 
 eyes she met the young Royalist's gaze, a gaze over- 
 flowing with amorous kindliness. 
 
 " Patience, Marie, this storm is the last," he said. 
 
 " The last," she echoed. 
 
 Francine and the marquis gazed at each other in
 
 THE CHOUANS 48 1 
 
 amazement, but she imposed silence upon them 
 with a gesture. 
 
 " Call the priest," she said, " and leave me alone 
 with him." 
 
 They withdrew. 
 
 *' Father," said she to the priest, who appeared 
 suddenly before her, ** father, in my childhood, an 
 old man with white hair like yours, used often to 
 tell me that with profound faith one could obtain 
 everything from God ; is it true ? " 
 
 " It is true," the priest replied. " Everything is 
 possible to Him who created everything." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Verneuil threw herself on her 
 knees with incredible enthusiasm. 
 
 " O my God," she exclaimed in her ecstasy, 
 ** my faith in Thee is equal to my love for him ! In- 
 spire me ! Perform a miracle, or take my life ! " 
 
 " Your prayer will be granted," said the priest. 
 
 A moment later she appeared before them all, 
 leaning on the arm of the old white-haired priest. 
 Her deep but secret emotion delivered her to the 
 love of a lover, more brilliantly beautiful than ever 
 before, for an expression of serenity such as paint- 
 ers seek to impart to martyrs made her face impos- 
 ing. She gave her hand to the marquis and they 
 walked together to the altar, where they knelt. 
 This marriage, which was to be celebrated within a 
 few steps of the nuptial couch, the altar, hastily 
 erected, the cross, the vases, the chalice, brought 
 thither secretly by a priest, the smoke of incense 
 floating about the cornices which had never before 
 31
 
 482 THE CHOUANS 
 
 seen any smoke save that of banquets, the priest 
 who wore only a stole over his cassock, the tapers 
 in a salon — everything combined to form a strange 
 and touching scene which will serve as a finishing 
 touch to the picture of those times of sad memory, 
 when civil discord had overturned the most sacred 
 institutions. Religious ceremonies in those days 
 had all the charm of mystery. Children were bap- 
 tized in the rooms where their mothers lay groan- 
 ing. As, in the old days, the Lord, humble and 
 poor, went about consoling the dying. Young 
 maids, too, received the consecrated bread for the 
 first time on the same spot on which they had 
 played the day before. 
 
 The union of the marquis and Mademoiselle de 
 Verneuil was to be consecrated, as so many other 
 unions were, by a ceremony forbidden by recent 
 legislation ; but, at a later date, these marriages, 
 most of which were solemnized at the foot of an oak 
 tree, were all scrupulously sanctioned. The priest 
 who thus maintained the ancient customs to the last 
 moment was one of those men who are faithful to 
 their principles when storms blow hardest. His 
 voice, unsullied by the oath demanded by the Re- 
 public, uttered none but words of peace amid the 
 tempest. He did not add fuel to the flame, as Abbe 
 Gudin did ; but he had, with many others, devoted 
 himself to the dangerous mission of performing 
 priestly duties for those who had clung to the Cath- 
 olic faith. In order to succeed in that perilous min- 
 istry, he resorted to all the pious artifices necessita-
 
 THE CHOUANS 48? 
 
 ted by persecution, and the marquis was obliged to 
 look for him in one of those excavations which, even 
 in our day, bear the name of the priest's hiding-place. 
 The sight of that pale, sickly face was so well cal- 
 culated to inspire prayer and respect that it alone 
 was enough to make of that worldly salon a sacred 
 place. Everything was ready for the ceremony of 
 disaster and joy. Before beginning the service, the 
 priest, amid a deathly silence, asked the bride her 
 name. 
 
 " Marie-Nathalie, daughter of Blanche de Cas- 
 teran, who died Abbess of Notre-Dame de Seez, and 
 of Victor-Amedee, Due de Verneuil." 
 
 " Born ? " 
 
 ** At La Chasterie, near Alengon." 
 
 " I did not suppose that Montauran would be fool 
 enough to marry her ! " whispered the baron to the 
 count. — " A duke's natural daughter, bah ! " 
 
 "If it was a king's, it would be all right," re- 
 plied the Comte de Bauvan with a smile ; " how- 
 ever, I shall not blame him. The other one suits 
 me and I propose to make war on Charette's Mare 
 from this time on. She doesn't want to bill and 
 coo ! " 
 
 The marquis's names had been inserted before- 
 hand ; the lovers signed, then the witnesses. The 
 ceremony began. At that moment Marie, but no 
 one else, heard the clashing of guns and the heavy, 
 regular tread of soldiers relieving guard at the post 
 she had ordered placed in the church. She shivered 
 and raised her eyes to the cross over the altar.
 
 484 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " She looks just like a saint," murmured Fran- 
 cine. 
 
 " If some one would give me a saint of that kind, 
 I would be deuced pious ! " muttered the count. 
 
 When the priest asked Mademoiselle de Verneuil 
 the customary questions, she answered yes, and 
 sighed deeply. She put her lips to her husband's 
 ear and said : 
 
 " In a little while you will know why I broke my 
 oath never to marry you." 
 
 When, after the ceremony, the party had ad- 
 journed to another room where dinner was served, 
 and just as they were taking their places at table, 
 Jeremie entered the room, half dead with terror. 
 The poor bride rose abruptly and ran to meet him, 
 followed by Francine, and, resorting to one of those 
 pretexts which women are so quick to fmd, she 
 begged the marquis to do the honors of the banquet 
 alone for a moment, and led the servant away be- 
 fore he had been guilty of an indiscretion that 
 might have proved fatal. 
 
 " Ah ! Francine, to feel one's self dying and not 
 to be able to say : ' I am dying ! ' " cried Mademoi- 
 selle de Verneuil, who did not appear again. 
 
 Her absence might be accounted for by the cere- 
 mony that had just taken place. At the end of the 
 dinner, when the marquis's anxiety was at its 
 height, Marie returned in all the splendor of bridal 
 garments. Her face was joyous and calm, while 
 Francine, who accompanied her, had such profound 
 terror imprinted upon every feature, that it seemed
 
 THE CHOUANS 485 
 
 to the guests as if they were looking at a curious 
 picture in which Salvator Rosa's pencil had repre- 
 sented Life and Death hand in hand. 
 
 " Messieurs," she said to the priest, the baron and 
 the count, "you will be my guests to-night; for it 
 is too dangerous for you to leave Fougeres. This 
 good girl has my instructions and will show each of 
 you to his room. — No rebellion," she said to the 
 priest who was about to speak ; " I trust you will 
 not disobey a lady on her wedding day." 
 
 An hour later, she was alone with her lover in the 
 luxurious chamber she had arranged so coquettishly. 
 They finally reached that fatal bed where, as in a 
 tomb, so many hopes are shattered, where the 
 awakening to a life of happiness is so uncertain, 
 where love is born and dies, according to the temper 
 of the characters that are put to the test nowhere 
 else. Marie looked at the clock and said to herself : 
 " Six hours to live ! " 
 
 " Can it be that I have slept ? " she cried toward 
 morning, waking suddenly with one of those starts 
 that make us jump out of bed when we have made 
 a compact with ourselves the night before to wake 
 the next morning at a certain hour. — " Yes, I have 
 slept," she repeated, seeing by the light of the 
 candles that the clock would soon strike two. 
 
 She turned and looked at the marquis, sleeping 
 with his head upon one hand like a child, and with 
 the other hand clasping his wife's, half smiling, as if 
 he had fallen asleep in the middle of a kiss. 
 
 Ah ! " she said to herself under her breath, " he 
 
 ((
 
 486 THE CHOUANS 
 
 sleeps like a child ! But could he be suspicious of 
 me, of me who owe to him a happiness without 
 name ? " 
 
 She shook him gently, he awoke and finished his 
 smile. He kissed the hand he held, and gazed at 
 the unhappy woman with such sparkling eyes, that, 
 being unable to endure their amorous gleam, she 
 slowly closed her great lids as if to shut out a peril- 
 ous sight ; but by thus veiling the fire of her own 
 glance, she so kindled his passion by seeming to 
 repel it, that, had she not had profound terror to 
 conceal, her husband might have accused her of too 
 great coquetry. They raised their beautiful faces 
 at the same moment, and exchanged a reciprocal 
 smile of gratitude, instinct with the joys they had 
 tasted ; but, after a swift glance at the fascinating 
 picture his wife's face presented, the marquis, at- 
 tributing to some melancholy thought the clouds 
 that passed across her brow, said to her softly : 
 
 " Why this shadow of sadness, my love ? " 
 
 " Poor Alphonse, to what do you think that 1 
 have brought you ? " she asked, trembling. 
 
 " To happiness — " 
 
 "To death!" 
 
 Shuddering with horror she leaped from the bed ; 
 the astonished marquis followed her and she led him 
 to the window. Checking a wild gesture that 
 escaped her, Marie drew back the curtains and 
 showed him a score of soldiers on the square. The 
 moon, having scattered the fog, cast its white beams 
 upon the uniforms, the muskets, the implacable
 
 THE CHOUANS 487 
 
 Corentin, who went and came like a jackal awaiting 
 his prey, and the commandant standing motionless, 
 with folded arms, nose in the air, with curling lips, 
 alert and discontented. 
 
 " Oh ! let us leave them, Marie, and return — ** 
 
 "Why do you laugh, Alphonse ? it was I who 
 placed them there ! " 
 
 " You are dreaming ! " 
 
 "No." 
 
 They gazed at each other a moment, the marquis 
 divined everything, and said, pressing her to his 
 heart : 
 
 "Bah! 1 love you still!" 
 
 "Then all is not lost!" cried Marie. — "Al- 
 phonse," she said after a pause, "there is some 
 hope." 
 
 At that moment they heard distinctly the cry of 
 a screech-owl, and Francine burst out of the 
 dressing-room. 
 
 " Pierre is here I " she exclaimed with a joy 
 bordering on delirium. 
 
 The marchioness and Francine dressed Montauran 
 in the costume of a Chouan, with the astounding 
 celerity of which only women are capable. When 
 the marchioness saw that her husband was busily 
 engaged loading the weapons Francine had brought, 
 she quickly vanished, having exchanged a meaning 
 glance with the faithful Breton. Francine there- 
 upon led the marquis into the dressing-room that ad- 
 joined the bedroom. The young nobleman, seeing 
 a great quantity of strips of cloth fastened securely
 
 488 THE CHOUANS 
 
 together, was enabled to realize the energetic solici- 
 tude with which the girl had labored to outwit the 
 soldiers." 
 
 " I shall never be able to go through there," said 
 the marquis, scrutinizing the narrow opening of the 
 bull's eye. 
 
 At that moment a huge black figure entirely filled 
 the aperture, and a hoarse voice, well known to 
 Francine, cried softly : 
 
 " Make haste, general ! those toads of Blues are 
 astir — " 
 
 " Oh ! one more kiss ! " said a sweet, trembling 
 voice. 
 
 The marquis, whose feet were already upon the 
 liberating ladder, the upper part of his body being 
 still inside the room, felt the pressure of a desperate 
 embrace. He uttered a cry as he saw that his wife 
 had put on his clothes, and tried to detain her, but 
 she tore herself suddenly from his arms, and he was 
 forced to descend. He kept a piece of cloth in his 
 hand, and as the moonlight fell upon it, he recog- 
 nized it as a piece of the waistcoat he had worn the 
 night before. 
 
 "Halt! Fire by platoons ! " 
 
 These words, uttered by Hulot in the midst of a 
 silence in which there was something horrible, 
 broke the spell that seemed to rest upon men 
 and things. A volley of bullets from the valley 
 reached the foot of the tower, answering the fire of 
 the Blues stationed on the Promenade. The fire of 
 the Republicans was uninterrupted, it was continu-
 
 MO NT AU RAN TO HIS BROTHER 
 
 "Commandant'' said the marqtds, summonvig all 
 his strength, and still holding Marie's hand, "/ rely 
 upon your honor to inform my young brother, nozv 
 in London, of my deatli. Write him that, if he has 
 any respect for my last zuords, he tvill not bear arms 
 against France, but ivill remain faithful to the king, 
 none the less."
 
 ^.«^,,^U^iUd.ig97 /y '/ '/^/ /->
 
 THE CHOUANS 489 
 
 ous and pitiless. The victims did not utter a sound. 
 The silence between the volleys was frightful. 
 
 But Corentin, who had heard a noise as if one of 
 the aerial travellers he had pointed out to the com- 
 mandant had fallen from the top of the ladder, sus- 
 pected some snare. 
 
 " Not one of those beasts sings," he said to 
 Hulot; " our lovers are quite capable of fooling us 
 with some stratagem here, while they are making 
 their escape in some other direction." 
 
 Impatient to solve the mystery, he sent Galope- 
 Chopine's son to fetch torches. His conjecture 
 was so fully understood by Hulot that the old 
 soldier, listening intently to the noise of a very 
 serious engagement that was taking place before 
 the Saint-Leonard post, cried : 
 
 " True, there can't be two of them." 
 
 And he darted toward the guard-house. 
 
 "We have filled his head with lead, comman- 
 dant," said Beau-Pied, coming out to meet Hulot; 
 " but he killed Gudin and wounded two others. 
 Ah ! the madman ! he fought his way through three 
 lines of our comrades and would have found his 
 way into the fields if it hadn't been for the sentry 
 at Porte Saint-Leonard, who spitted him with his 
 bayonet." 
 
 Thereupon the commandant rushed into the 
 guard-house, and saw a bleeding body that had just 
 been placed on the camp-bed ; he drew near the 
 supposed marquis, raised the hat that covered his 
 face, and fell upon a chair.
 
 490 THE CHOUANS 
 
 " I suspected it," he cried, folding his arms vio- 
 lently ; " sacre tonnerre ! she kept him too long." 
 
 The soldiers stood like statues. The comman- 
 dant had shown the long black hair of a 
 woman. Suddenly the silence was broken by the 
 tramp of armed men. Corentin entered the guard- 
 house preceded by four soldiers carrying Montauran 
 on their muskets so placed as to form a litter ; his 
 arms and legs were shattered by bullets. He was 
 laid upon the camp-bed beside his wife ; he recog- 
 nized her and grasped her hand convulsively. The 
 dying woman turned her head with difficulty, saw 
 her husband, shuddered in a way that was horrible 
 to see, and murmured these words in an almost in- 
 audible voice : 
 
 "A day without a morrow! — God granted my 
 prayer too fully ! " 
 
 "Commandant," said the marquis, summoning 
 all his strength, and still holding Marie's hand, " 1 
 rely upon your honor to inform my young brother, 
 now in London, of my death. Write him that, if 
 he has any respect for my last words, he will not 
 bear arms against France, but will remain faithful 
 to the king, none the less." 
 
 " It shall be done," said Hulot, pressing the 
 dying man's hand. 
 
 " Take them to the nearest hospital," cried 
 Corentin. 
 
 Hulot grasped the spy by the arm so fiercely that 
 he left the mark of his nails in the flesh. 
 
 "As your work is done here," he said, "clear
 
 THE CHOUANS 49 1 
 
 out of the camp ! and look well at the face of Com- 
 mandant Hulot so that he may never find you in his 
 path again, if you don't want him to sheathe his 
 sword in your carcass," 
 
 The old fellow actually began to draw his sword. 
 
 ** There's another of my honest men who will 
 never make his fortune," said Corentin to himself 
 when he was at a safe distance from the guard- 
 house. 
 
 The marquis had sufficient strength left to thank 
 his adversary with a motion of his head, attesting 
 the esteem that soldiers feel for loyal enemies. 
 
 In 1827, an old man, accompanied by his wife, 
 sold cattle in the market-place of Fougeres, and no 
 one said a word to him although he had killed more 
 than a hundred people ; they did not even remind 
 him of his former sobriquet of Marche-a-Terre. 
 The person to whom we are indebted for valuable 
 information concerning all the characters in this 
 Scene, saw him leading a cow, with the simple, 
 ingenuous air that leads people to say: "There's 
 an honest, worthy man ! " 
 
 As for Cibot, called Pille-Miche, we have already 
 seen how he came to his end. It may be that 
 Marche-a-Terre tried, but in vain, to rescue his 
 companion from the scaffold, and was on the 
 public square at Alenfon at the time of the frightful 
 tumult that was one of the incidents of the famous 
 prosecution of Rifoel, Briond and La Chanterie. 
 
 Fougeres, August, 1827.
 
 LIST OF ETCHINGS 
 
 VOLUME XXXIII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 AT LA VIVETIERE Fronts. 
 
 ON LA PELERINE 48 
 
 ON THE ROAD TO MAYENNE 168 
 
 FOR THE BALL AT SAINT-JAMES 352 
 
 MONTAURAN TO HIS BROTHER 488 
 
 ZZ C. H., Ch., N. & R. 
 
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