Nor did the cannon shot come alone:  a fearful fire from about five hundred muskets was poured from the hedge on either side, directly into the road:  the assailants were within a few feet of their enemy at the moment they were firing, and every shot took effect.  Out of the four hundred men who headed the column, above half were killed, or so badly wounded as to be incapable of motion.  The narrow lane, for it was no more than a lane, was nearly blocked up with carcases.  Westerman, who was possessed of a courage that was never shaken, was nevertheless so thunderstruck, that he knew not what orders to give.  The republicans at the head of the column, who had not themselves been struck, fired their fusils into the hedges, but their fire did no injury; it was all lost among the leaves, for the men who had attacked them were kneeling on their knees or lying on their bellies, and in the confusion which they had occasioned, were reloading their muskets.

The guide and the aide-de-camp to whom Westerman was speaking, had both fallen, and the horse upon which he himself was riding was so badly wounded, as to be unmanageable.  He got off, and ran along under the hedge till he met an officer.  “Give me your horse, Gerard,” said he; “but no, stay where you are, gallop back, and tell Bourbotte to bring up the men.  Quick, mind—­so quick, that they can neither see nor hear what has happened.  Bid him force his way through the hedge to the right, when he gets to the corner.”

The young officer turned quickly to obey the command of his General, and had already put his spur to the horse’s flank, when another broad flash of light streamed through the hedge on the left, and the horseman and horse fell to the ground, and were mingled with a heap of wounded and dying.  Young Gerard did not live long enough to be conscious of the blow which killed him.  Another volley of musketry followed the cannon shot, and hardly left a man standing of those who had been the foremost.  The attack had taken place so quickly, that the Vendeans had not yet had time to load again; but one of two cannons had been kept as a reserve, and about a hundred muskets had not been fired till de Lescure gave the word of command.  The first attack was made under the direction of Henri Larochejaquelin.

Westerman was standing between the hedge and the mounted officer, when the latter fell with his horse, and the blood from the poor animal nearly covered him from head to foot.  “Into the field, my men,” said he to those who were near enough to hear him; “follow me through the hedge,” and with a considerable effort he forced his way through the underwood, and he was followed and accompanied by all those who were still standing near him; but when he got there, not one of the Vendeans was to be seen; there were traces enough of them in the grass, and among the broken boughs, but the men had retreated after the first fire, and were now again lying in ambush behind the next hedge.