“I believe I do,” said de Lescure; “but why do you not speak out?  You are not likely, I think, to say or to propose anything that we shall not approve of—­that is, Victorine and I.”

“God bless you both!” said Henri.  “You are too kind to me; but can you consent to give me your own dear favourite sister—­your sweet Marie?  You know what I mean in saying that I would be nearer to you.”

De Lescure was in the act of answering his cousin, when. the quick fall of a horse’s foot was heard in the avenue close to the house, and then there was a sudden pause as the brute was pulled up violently in the yard of the chateau, and the eager voices of domestics answering the rapid questions of the man who had alighted.

Interested as the two friends were in their conversation, the times were too full of important matters to allow of their remaining quiet, after having heard such tokens of a hurried messenger.  Larochejaqnelin ran off to the yard of the chateau, and de Lescure followed him as quickly as his wounded arm would allow.

Henri had hardly got off the lawn, when he met a couple of servants coming from the yard, and between them a man booted, spurred, and armed, covered with dust and spattered with fuam, whom he at once recognized as Foret, the friend and townsman of Cathelineau.

“What news, Foret, what news?” said Henri, rushing up to him, and seizing him by the hand.  “Pray God you bring with you good tidings.”

“The worst news that ever weighed heavy on a poor man’s tongue, M. Henri,” said Foret, sorrowfully.

“Cathelineau is not dead?” said Henri, but the tone of his inquiry shewed plainly how much he feared what the reply would be.

“He was not dead,” answered Foret, “when I left him five leagues on this side Nantes, but he had not many days to live.”

The two had turned back over the lawn, and now met de Lescure, as he hastened to join them.

“Cathelineau,” said Henri, “is mortally wounded!  Victory will have been bought too dear at such a price; but I know not yet even whether the Vendeans have been victorious.”

“They have not—­they have not,” said Foret.  “How could they be victorious when their great General had fallen?”

“Mortally wounded!  Oh, Foret, you are indeed a messenger of evil,” said de Lescure, giving him his hand.

“Yes, mortally wounded,” said Foret.  “I fear before this he may have ceased to breathe.  I left him, gentlemen, a few leagues this side Nantes, and at his own request hurried on to tell you these sad tidings.  Oh, M. de Lescure, our cause has had a heavy blow at Nantes, and yet at one time we had almost beaten them; but when the peasants saw Cathelineau fall, they would fight no longer.”

“Where is he?” said Henri, “that is if he still lives.”