“I had twice more to do with those three prisoners than ever he had,” said Peter.

“Well; we never heard that,” said Momont.

“But we heard,” said Chapeau, “how Cathelineau led a few of the townsmen against a whole regiment of soldiers, and scattered them through the town like chaff.”

“Scattered them like chaff!” said Peter.

“And we heard,” said Momont, “how he stormed the barracks, slaughtered all the soldiers, and dragged the Colonel with his own hand through the barrack window.”

“Through the barrack window!” repeated Peter, with an air intended to throw discredit on the whole story.

“And we heard,” said Gather’s confidential maid, “how he laid his hand upon the cannon and charmed it, so that it would not go off, though the fiery torch was absolutely laid upon the gunpowder.”

“That the cannon wouldn’t go off though the torch was laid upon the gunpowder!” said Peter.

“And we heard,” said the cook, “how all the girls in the town came and crowned him with bay leaves; and how the priest blessed him.”

“And how the young made him their captain and their general,” said the housekeeper.

“And how they christened him the Saviour of St. Florent,” said the laundress.

“And gave him all the money in the town, and the biggest sword they could find,” said the page.

“You heard all this, did you?” said Peter Berrier.

“Indeed we did” said Jacques Chapeau, “and a great deal more from M. de Lescure’s own man, who went back to Clisson only an hour since, and who had it all from one who came direct from St. Florent.”

“And you heard not a word of Peter Berrier?”

“Not a word, not a word,” said they all at once.

“Then, friends, let me tell you, you have not heard much of the truth, although M. de Lescure’s own man did see the man who came direct from St. Florent; I think I may say, without boasting, and I believe Monsieur the postillion upstairs will not be inclined to contradict me, that without me, there would have been no revolt.

“No revolt without you?  No revolt without Peter Berrier?  No revolt without M. Debedin’s ostler?” said they one after another.

“No—­no revolt without M. Debedin’s ostler, Madame.”  The last question had been asked by the cook.  “M.  Debedin’s ostler is as good, I suppose, as M. Gaspardieu’s postillion.”

“What, as good as Cathelineau?” asked Momont.

“As good as our good postillion!” shouted Chapeau.

“As good as the holy man who charmed the cannon!” said the confidential maid in a tone of angry amazement.

“Would all the girls in St. Florent crown you with bay leaves!” jeered the cook.

“Will they ever make you a great captain!” screamed the housekeeper.

“Or call you the Saviour of St. Florent!” added the laundress.

“Or trust you with all the money, I’d like to know!” suggested the page.