The lieutenant of the guard met him at the gate.  Cavalier quickly dismounted, and throwing the bridle of his horse to one of his men, he entered the garden, and advanced towards the expectant group, which was composed, as we have said, of Villars, Baville, and Sandricourt.  As he drew near, M. de Villars regarded him with growing astonishment; for he could not believe that in the young man, or rather boy, before him he saw the terrible Cevenol chief, whose name alone made the bravest soldiers tremble.  Cavalier at this period had just completed his twenty-fourth year, but, thanks to his fair hair which fell in long locks over his shoulders, and to the gentle expression of his eyes he did not appear more than eighteen.  Cavalier was acquainted with none of the men in whose presence he stood, but he noticed M. de Villars’ rich dress and air of command.  He therefore saluted him first; afterwards, turning towards the others, he bowed to each, but less profoundly, then somewhat embarrassed and with downcast eyes he stood motionless and silent.  The marechal still continued to look at him in silent astonishment, turning from time to time to Baville and Sandricourt, as if to assure himself that there was no mistake and that it was really the man whom they expected who stood before them.  At last, doubting still, in spite of the signs they made to reassure him, he asked—­

“Are you really Jean Cavalier?”

“Yes, monseigneur,” was the reply, given in an unsteady voice.

“But I mean Jean Cavalier, the Camisard general, he who has assumed the title of Duke of the Cevennes.”

“I have not assumed that title, monseigneur, only some people call me so in joke:  the king alone has the right to confer titles, and I rejoice exceedingly, monseigneur, that he has given you that of governor of Languedoc.”

“When you are speaking of the king, why do you not say ’His Majesty’?” said M. de Baville.  “Upon my soul, the king is too good to treat thus with a rebel.”

The blood rushed to Cavalier’s head, his face flamed, and after a moment’s pause, fixing his eye boldly upon M. de Baville, and speaking in a voice which was now as firm as it had been tremulous a moment before, he said, “If you have only brought me here, sir, to speak to me in such a manner, you might better have left me in my mountains, and come there yourself to take a lesson in hospitality.  If I am a rebel, it is not I who am answerable, for it was the tyranny and cruelty of M. de Baville which forced us to have recourse to arms; and if history takes exception to anything connected with the great monarch for whose pardon I sue to-day, it will be, I hope, not that he had foes like me, but friends like him.”

M. de Baville grew pale with anger; for whether Cavalier knew to whom he was speaking or not, his words had the effect of a violent blow full in his face; but before he could reply M. de Villars interposed.

“Your business is only with me, sir,” he said; “attend to me alone, I beg:  I speak in the name of the king; and the king, of his clemency, wishes to spare his subjects by treating them with tenderness.”