The man took off his cap, and bowed low to the saddle bow.  Had he been born to the manner, he could not have done it with more grace.  “God bless you, General,” he said, “God grant that we may soon see you here among us again;” and a thousand loud clamorous voices echoed the wish.  A tear rose to de Lescure’s eye, which none but his wife could mark:  he knew that his friend’s kind wishes were vain; that he had now, personally, no hope except in death; and he could not entirely repress a vain regret that he might live to witness the success of his party, of which, since his sojourn in Laval, he had taught himself to be sanguine.

It was but a moment before the tear was gone, and his eyes were again on fire with enthusiasm.  “Ah, de Bauge—­good de Bauge!” he exclaimed, as a friend of his early youth passed by, using at the moment every effort to repress the wild clamouring hurry of his followers.  “God prosper thee, dear friend!  Oh, that we now had but a score or two such soldiers as thou art!”

“We have many hundreds here as good,” said de Bauge, pausing a moment from his work to salute the friends whom he recognized at the window.

“Thousands perhaps as brave, thousands as eager, if they did but know how to use their courage,” answered de Lescure.

After this there was a lull for a few moments, and then a troop of cuirassiers trotted down the street, jingling their bridles, swords, and spurs as they moved.  This small body of cavalry had been, for some time, the pride and strongest hope of the Vendeans.  They had been gradually armed, horsed, and trained during the war, by the greatest exertions of the wealthiest among their officers, and they had certainly proved to be worth all the trouble they had cost.  They were now, alas! reduced to half the number, which had ridden out of Chatillon before the battle of Cholet; but the remnant were still full of spirit, and anxious to avenge their fallen brethren.  Their bright trappings and complete accoutrements, afforded a strange contrast to the medley appearance of the footmen, who retreated back to the houses, to make way for the horses; and told more plainly than any words could do, the difference between an army of trained soldiers, and a band of brave, but tumultuous peasants.

It was now nine o’clock; and shortly after the horsemen had all passed through the street, the little Chevalier came in with the news, that they were immediately about to attack the blues; the republican army being already within a mile of the town; and that Henri was at that moment leaving the guard-house, and preparing to lead the attack; and when he had told so much aloud to them all, he stooped down to whisper to de Lescure, that Adolphe Denot was riding everywhere through the town at Henri’s right hand, and that he was the redoubtable Mad Captain, the leader of La Petite Vendee.