“I know that I have been a traitor—­a base, ignoble, wretched traitor.  I know it; you know it; she knows it”; and as he confessed his wretchedness, he put his bony hand to his forehead, and pushing back his long matted hair, showed more clearly than he had yet done the ineffable marks of bitter sadness, which a few months had graven on his face.  “All La Vendee knows it,” continued he; “but no one knows the grief, the sorrow, the wretched sorrow, which drove me to madness, and made me become the thing I am.  I know it though, and feel it here,” and he put his hand on his heart, and looked into his companion’s face with a melancholy gaze, which would have softened the anger of a sterner man than Henri Larochejaquelin.

“My poor, poor Adolphe,” said Henri, moving himself close to Denot’s side, and putting his arm round his neck and embracing him.  “We all know how you have suffered.  We know—­we always knew, it wasn’t your proper self that turned against the cause you loved so well; but, Adolphe, we won’t talk of these things now.”

“You just now said we must talk of them, and you were quite right.  After what has passed, you and I cannot meet without having much to say,” and again the madman jumped to his feet; and as he paced up and down the room, his fiercer humour again came upon him.  “Henri,” he exclaimed; and as he spoke he stood still, close to the other, “Henri, why don’t you avenge your sister’s honour?  Why don’t you punish the dishonour which I brought on your father’s hoary head?  Henri, I say, why don’t you seize by the throat the wretched traitor who brought desolation and destruction into your family?” and he stretched out his long gaunt neck, as though he expected that Larochejaquelin would rise from his bed, and take him at his word.

Henri felt that it was useless to endeavour to reason with him, or to answer the raving of his madness, but he still hoped, that by a mixture of firmness and gentleness, he might yet take him away from his present miserable dwelling, and by degrees bring him back to a happier state of mind.  The difficulties in his way, however, were very great; for he knew how serious would be the danger and folly of leading him again into Agatha’s presence.

“Nonsense, Adolphe,” said he.  “Why do you talk to your friend of vengeance?  Come, take up your sword, and come away.  This is a cold, damp place; and besides, we both want refreshment before our next day’s work.  Before six hours are gone, the republican army will be near Laval, and you and I must be prepared to meet them,” and he picked up Denot’s sword, and handed him his cap, and took his arm within his own, as though to lead him at once out of the room.

“And where are you going to?” said Denot, hesitating, but not refusing to go.

“Why, first, we’ll go to the guard-house, and I’ll show you a few of our picked men, who are there on duty; real dare-devils, who care no more for a blue than they do for a black-beetle; and then we’ll go to the Angers gate.  It’s there that Lechelle will show himself; and then—­and then—­why, then we’ll go home, and get some breakfast, for it will be nearly time for us to go to horse.”