“Exactly, M. Henri; I will explain all.”  By this time he had got the priest and his master somewhat out of the crowd.  “You see, M. Henri, there are not two young men in the Bocage more determined to fight for the good cause this moment, than Jean and Peter Stein.”

“Why, Jacques, I do not see it yet, certainly.”

“Oh!  Sir, it’s a fact; they are dying to have a musket in their hands.  I pledge for them my word of honour,” and Jacques laid his hand upon his heart.  “You will find they are with me, your reverence, when I meet you at the cross-roads, within half a mile of Coron, on Monday morning.  But, M. Henri, they have a father.”

“Have a father!” said the Cure, “of course they have.”

“You don’t mean to tell me that Michael Stein, the smith, is a republican?”

“A republican!” said Jaques.  “Oh! no, the heavens preserve us, he’s nothing so bad as that, or his own son wouldn’t remain under his roof another night, or his daughter either.  No; Annot wouldn’t remain with him another hour, were he twenty times her father, if he turned republican.”

“Why does he prevent his sons joining the muster, then?” said Henri.

“He is very fond of money, M. Henri.  Old Michael Stein is very fond of money; and every one in the country who owns a franc at all, is buying an old sword or a gun, or turning a reaping-hook into a sabre, or getting a long pike made with an axe at the end of it; so Michael Stein’s smithy is turned into a perfect armoury, and he and his two sons are at work at the anvil morning, noon, and night:  they made Annot blow the bellows this morning, till she looks for all the world like a tinker’s wife.”

“That alters the case,” said Father Jerome; “they are doing good service, if they are making arms for our men; they are better employed than though they joined us themselves.”

“Don’t say so, Father Jerome,” said Jacques, “pray don’t say so, Jean and Peter would die were they not to be of the party at Saumur; but Michael is so passionate and so headstrong, and he swears they shall not go.  Now go they will, and therefore I supplicate that my word may be taken, and that I may be saved the dishonour of hearing the names of my friends read out aloud with those of men who will disgrace their parish and their country.”

The request of Jacques was granted, and the names of Jean and Peter Stein were erased from the top of the black list.

It was eight in the evening before the recruiting party had finished their work, and it was not yet noon when they rode into the little village.  Henri and the Cure got their supper and slept at the Mayor’s house, and even there they were not allowed to be quiet; some of those who were to be at Saumur, were continually calling for new instructions; one wanted to know what arms he was to carry, another what provisions he was to bring, a third was anxious to be a corporal, and a fourth and fifth begged that they might not be separated, as one was going to marry the sister of the other.  None of these were turned away unanswered; the door of the Mayor’s house was not closed for a moment, and Henri, to be enabled to eat his supper at all, was obliged to give his last military orders with a crust of bread in his hand, and his mouth full of meat.