Henri and Chapeau again started on their search; and making their way, for the second time, through the dark, crowded streets, reached a small miserable looking house, in a narrow lane, at one of the lower windows of which Chapeau knocked with his knuckles.

‘I told M. Plume that I should call again tonight,’ said he, “and he’ll know its me.”

“And is M. Plume the baker?” asked Henri.

“He was a baker till two months since,” answered Chapeau, “but now he’s a soldier and an officer; and I can assure you, M. Henri, he doesn’t think a little of himself.  He’s fully able to take the command-in-chief of the Breton army, when any accident of war shall have cut off his present Captain; at least, so he told me.”

“You must have had a deal of conversation with him in a very short time, Chapeau.”

“Oh, he talks very quick, M. Henri; but he wouldn’t let himself down to speak a word to me till I told him I was aide-de-camp-in-chief to the generalissimo of the Vendean army; and then he took off the greasy little cap he wears, told me that his name was Auguste Emile Septimus Plume, and said he was most desirous to drink a cup of wine with me in the next estaminet.  Then I ran off to you, telling him I would return again as soon as I had seen that all was right at the guard-house.”

“Knock again, Chapeau,” said Henri, “for I think your military friend must have turned in for the night.”

Chapeau did knock, and as he did so, he put his mouth close to the door, and called out “M.  Plume—­Captain Plume—­Captain Auguste Plume, a message—­an important message from the Commander-in-Chief of the Vendean army.  You’ll get nothing from him, M. Henri, unless you talk about Generals, aide-de-camps, and despatches; advanced guards, flank movements, and light battalions.”

M. Plume, or Captain Plume, as he preferred being called, now opened the door, and poking his head out, welcomed Chapeau, and assured him that if he would step round to the wine shop he would be with him in a moment.

“But, my dear friend Captain Plume, stop a moment,” said Chapeau, fixing his foot in the open doorway, so as to prevent it being closed, “here is a gentleman—­one of our officers—­in fact, my friend,” and he whispered very confidentially as he gave the important information, “here is the Commander-in-Chief, and he must see your General tonight; to arrange—­to arrange the tactics of the united army for tomorrow.”

Auguste Emile Septimus Plume, in spite of his own high standing, in what he was pleased to call the army of Brittany, felt himself rather confused at hearing that a General-in-Chief was standing at the door of his humble dwelling; and, as he again took off his cap, and putting his hand to his heart made a very low bow, he hesitated much as to what answer he should make; for he reflected within himself that the present quarters of his General, were hardly fitting for such an interview.