“Gentlemen,” said de Lescure to them, as soon as he saw them seated round his bed, and had contrived to get himself so propped up with pillows as to be able to address them, “you all know why I have wished to see you here; you all know the paramount importance of that duty which requires us to provide, as far as may be possible, for the security of the unfortunate peasants who have followed us with such courage, who have shown so much generous loyalty, so much true patriotism.  Our first step must be to name some one whom we can all obey.  We all know that the army cannot act in unison without one absolute Commander.  He who was lately our Commander has fallen in the performance of his duty.  Our dear friend Bonchamps is no more.  Had I escaped from that awful battle unwounded, it is not improbable that you might have chosen me to undertake the now unenviable duty of guiding a broken army.  You will not accuse a dying man of vanity in saying so; but, gentlemen, you all see that such a chance is now impossible.  My wound is mortal.  A few days, perhaps a few hours, and I shall be removed from this anxious, painful, all but hopeless conflict, in which you, my friends, must still engage; in which some of you will probably fall.  I cannot suffer with you future reverses, or lead you to future triumphs; but, if you will allow me, I will use my last breath in naming to you one, whom, I believe, every peasant in La Vendee, and every gentleman engaged in the cause, will follow, if it be necessary, to death.  Henri Larochejaquelin is the only man whom all the peasants, all the soldiers, all the officers, know intimately; and the last duty I can perform in the service of my King is to implore you to put him at the head of your troops.  He is young, and you will assist his youth with your counsel.  He is diffident of himself, and you will encourage him with your assurance and obedience; but he is brave, he is beloved, he is trusted; and above all, he possesses that innate aptitude for war, that power of infusing courage into the timid and lending strength to the weak, which is the gift of God alone, and without which no General can command an army.”

Henri had promised his cousin that he would neither interrupt him, or raise any objection to the proposition about to be made.  He kept his word as long as de Lescure was speaking, but when he had finished he could not restrain himself from expressing his own sense of his unfitness for the duties they were calling on him to perform.  He came forward, and leaning against the head of the wounded man’s bed, put his hand upon his shoulder, and speaking almost in a whisper, like a young girl pleading for delay before her lover, he said, “Charles, you forget, I am but one-and-twenty.”

No one, however, seconded his objection.  No other voice was raised to counteract the wishes of the man who had suffered so much in the cause, and who, had he been spared, would have been at once chosen to guide their future movements.