“Go home!” said Denot; “where’s home?”

“Do you know the big stone house, with the square windows, near the market-house?”

“Yes, I know it:  but tell me, Henri:  who are there?  I mean of your own people, you know—­the Durbelliere people?”

“Why, we’re all there, Adolphe—­Marie, and Victorine, and Charles, and Agatha, and my father and all.  Poor Charles!  You’ve heard of his state, Adolphe?”

“Yes, yes, I heard.  I wish it had been me—­I wish, with all my heart, it had been me,” and then he paused a while; and again laying down his sword and cap, he said “Henri, you’re an angel; I’m sure you are an angel; but all are not like you.  I will not go with you now; but if you’ll let me, I’ll fight close by your side this day.”

“You shall, Adolphe, you shall; up or down we’ll not leave each other for a moment; but you must come with me, indeed you must.  We should be sure to miss each other if we parted.”

“I’ll meet you at the gate, Henri, but I will not go with you.  All men are not like you.  Do you think that I could show myself to your father, and to de Lescure?  Don’t I know how their eyes would look on me?  Don’t I feel it now?” and again it seemed as though he were about to relapse into his frenzy; and then he continued speaking very gently, almost in a whisper:  “Does de Lescure ever talk about the bridge of Saumur?”

Now Henri, to this day, had never heard a word of the want of courage which Denot had shown in the passage of the bridge of Saumur.  No one but de Lescure had noticed it; and though he certainly had never forgotten it, he had been too generous to speak of it to any one.  Henri merely knew that his two friends, Charles and Adolphe, had been together at the bridge.

He had heard from others of de Lescure’s gallant conduct.  It had oftentimes been spoken of in the army, and Henri had never remarked that an equal tribute of praise was not given to the two, for their deeds on that occasion.  He now answered quite at cross purposes, but merely with the object of flattering the vanity of his friend: 

“He will never forget it, Adolphe.  No Vendean will ever forget the bridge of Saumur.  We will all remember that glorious day, when we have forgotten many things that have happened since.”

Poor Denot winced dreadfully under the blow, which Henri so innocently inflicted; but ho merely said “No—­I will not go with you—­you needn’t ask me, for my mind is made up.  Do you know, Henri, I and de Lescure never loved each other? never—­never—­never, even when we were seemingly such good friends, we never loved each other.  He loved you so well, that, for your sake, he bore with a man he despised.  Yes:  he always despised me, since the time you and I came home from school together.  I do not blame him, for he tried hard to conceal what he felt; and he thought that I did not know it; but from the first day that we passed together I found him out, and I was never happy in his company.”