And so the priests blessed the cannon, and the people baptized it, and called it Marie-Jeanne, and the women brought out their little children, and sat them straddle-legged across it, whole rows of them at the same time, till the cannon looked like a huge bunch of grapes on which the fruit clustered thickly.  By this time it was dark, and the people lighted huge bonfires through the town, and the children remained up, and as many as could cling on it still sat upon the cannon, and ropes were got and fastened to it, and all the girls of St. Florent dragged Marie-Jeanne round the town, and at last she was dragged into the yard of the auberge, in front of which the fight had commenced, and there she was left for the night, under a strong guard.

While these rejoicings were going on out of doors, Cathelineau and Forte, the two priests, and a few others—­the wise men of the town—­were collected together within the auberge, and were consulting as to their future proceedings.

“We have done much,” said Cathelineau, “and I rejoice at it.  Too much, a great deal, for us now to remain idle.  We cannot go back.  We are now the enemies of the Republic, and we must attack our enemies elsewhere, or they will attack and overwhelm us in our little town.”

They then determined that Cathelineau, on the next morning, should address the people from the window of the market-place, and that afterwards he and Forte should go through the neighbouring country and implore the assistance of the people, of the gentry, the priests, the farmers, and the peasants, in opposing the hated levy of the Republican forces; but first they would go to the gentry, and the names of many were mentioned whom it was thought would be sure to join them.  The first was that of Henri de Larochejaquelin, and the next that of his friend M. de Lescure.  Who loved the people so well as they, and whom did the people love so truly?  Yes, they would call on young Larochejaquelin and his friend to be their leaders.

Early on the morrow, the postillion addressed the people from the market-place.  He did not seek to himself the honour of doing so, nor, when he was asked to come forward as the leader of the people, did he refuse to do so.  He was not covetous of the honour, but he would not refuse the danger.  During the whole of the combat every one had looked to him as to the leader.  He had not constituted himself the people’s general, he had not for a moment thought of assuming the position; but he as little thought of refusing the danger or the responsibility, when the duties of a general seemed, by the will of all, to fall to his lot.