“In the name of the French Republic, and by command of the Convention, you, Peter Berrier, having been duly, legally, and specially drawn, chosen, and selected by lot, to serve in the armies of the Republic for one year, from the date of your first bearing arms, or for so long as your services may be necessary to the security of the Republic, are hereby required and desired to join the detachment of the Republican army at present serving in St. Florent, without let, delay, or hindrance, and thereby show yourself a friend to your country, and a good citizen of the Republic.”

The corporal pronounced this form of invitation in that tone of voice, which proved that it was very familiar to him, and that he was much in the habit of requesting good citizens to join the armies of the Republic for such time as their services might be necessary; and, having finished it, he rolled up the piece of paper, stuck it into his belt, as he might soon require the use of his hands, and, walking quite close up to the group, said—­

“Come, Peter Berrier, you are not such a fool, I hope, as to intend giving us any trouble.  Come along.”

Peter looked first into the farmer’s face; then to his master’s; and, lastly, to the postillion’s; and, seeing that they were all evidently firm in their resolve, he plucked up spirit, and replied.—­“Why, Mr Corporal, I have no inclination just at present to go to fight for the Republic.  You see I have no quarrel yet with my master here, M. Debedin, and he cannot well spare me.  I am afraid, Mr Corporal, I must decline.”

“That’s nonsense, you know,” growled the corporal; “you must come, you know; and as well first as last.  I don’t want to be uncivil to a comrade, and I’d be sorry to have to lay a hand on you.”

“Then you’d better keep your hands off,” said Cathelineau, “we quiet people in St. Florent don’t bear handling well.”

The corporal looked up at the postillion, but he soon saw that he wasn’t joking.

“Take my word for it, my friend,” continued Cathelineau, “Peter Berrier does not wish to be a soldier, and, if you force him to become one, it is not on the side of the Republic that he will be found fighting.”

“We’ll take chances for that,” replied the corporal, not exactly understanding what the other meant; “at any rate, back without him we won’t go; and if you’re determined for a riot, Messieurs, why I’m sorry; but I can’t help it,” and, appealing to Peter as a last hope, he said, “Come, Berrier, will you come with us quietly, or must we three drag you across the square to the barracks.”

“At any rate, Mr Corporal,” said Peter, “I will not go with you quietly; as to the being dragged, I can say nothing about that yet.”