and energy, and he soon found himself a leader of the people.  It was he who directed the movements of the populace on the 10th of August, when the Tuilleries was sacked, and the Swiss guards were massacred on the steps of the King’s palace.  Since that time Westerman had been a successful soldier in the republican army, not that he was by any means a vehement democrat:  his object had been military success, and that only.  He had neither political theories or political ambition.  Chance had thrown him in the way of the Republic, and he had become a republican.  He was then attached to the army of Dumourier as aide-de-camp to that General, and was in the confidence of him and of Danton, at the moment that Dumourier was endeavouring to hand over the armies of the Republic to the power of Prussia and of Austria.  He again, however, was wise in time.  Dumourier calculated too entirely on the affection of the army to himself and failed; but before he failed, Westerman had left him.  He was now again a trustworthy servant of the Republic, and as such was sent to assist in the fearful work which the tyranny of the democrats required.

His unnatural ruthlessness and prompt obedience were of no avail to him.  Soon after his return from the western provinces he perished under the guillotine.

“And so the good Cathelineau is dead,” said Santerre.  “The invincible, the invulnerable, the saint! ha, ha!  What sweet names these dear friends of ours have given themselves.”

“Yes,” said General Bourbotte; “the messenger who told me had come direct from their hospital; Cathelineau breathed his last the day before yesterday at St. Laurent.”

“Let us drink to his health, gentlemen; his spiritual health,” said Santerre; “and to his safe journey;” and the brewer raised his glass to his lips, and drank the toast which he had proposed.

“Bon voyage, my dear Cathelineau,” said Bourbotte, following his example.

“Cathelineau was a brave man,” said Chouardin.  “I am glad he died of his wounds; I should have been sorry that so gallant a fellow should have had to submit his neck to the sharp embraces of Mademoiselle Guillotine.”

“That is hardly a patriotic sentiment, citizen General,” said Barrere.  “Gallantry on the part of an insurgent royalist is an inspiration of the devil, sent to induce man to perpetuate the degradation and misery of his fellow-men.  Such gallantry, or rather such frenzy, should give rise to anything but admiration in the breast of a patriot.”

“My fidelity to the Republic will not be doubted, I believe,” said Chouardin, “because, as a soldier, I admire high courage when I find it in a soldier.”

“If your fidelity be unimpeachable, your utility will be much questioned, if you wish to spare a royalist because he is a brave man,” said Barrere.  “By the same argument, I presume, you would refrain from knocking an adder on the head, because he rose boldly in your path.”