“And he must be a thorough royalist,” said another, “or Father Jerome wouldn’t walk with him at all.”

“You are right, too, my friend; M. d’Elbee is a great royalist.  He is the especial friend of our good Cathelineau.”

“The friend of Cathelineau and of Father Jerome,” said a fourth, “then I am sure M. d’Elbee must be something out of the common way.”

“You are right again, he is very much out of the common way, he is one of our great generals,” said Chapeau.

“One of our great generals, is he,” said two or three at once.  “I knew he was going to Saumur,” said Jean, “or Father Jerome wouldn’t have walked so peaceable with him, great as he may be.”

“But if he is a great general,” said Annot, “why has he no lace upon his coat; why doesn’t he wear a sword and look smart like M. Larochejaquelin?  At any rate he is a very shabby general.”

“He has a terrible long nose too,” said another girl.  “And he has not a morsel of starch in his shirt ruffles, I declare,” said a third, who officiated as laundress to the Mayor of Echanbroignes.

“I’m sure the republicans will never be afraid of such a general as he is.  You are joking with us now, Jacques.  I am sure he is not a general; he is more like a grocer from Nantes.”

“And is not Cathelineau like a postilion?” said Jacques, “and I hope you will allow he is a great soldier.  You know nothing of these things yet, Annot.  M. Larochejaquelin is so smart because he is a young nobleman; not because he is a general.”

“And is not M. d’Elbee a nobleman?” said one of the girls.

“Not a bit of it,” said Chapeau.

“Well, I think the generals should all be noblemen; I declare,” said the laundress, “M.  Larochejaquelin did look so nice last Wednesday, when he was getting off his horse.”

“That is all; but Cathelineau,” said Annot, “he is the finest fellow of them all.  I’d sooner have Cathelinean for my lover, than the Duc de Chartres, and he’s the king’s cousin.”

“You are a foolish girl, Annot,” said Chapeau.  “You might as well want the picture of St. John out of the church window down yonder, and take that for your lover, as Cathelineau.  Don’t you know he’s the Saint of Anjou?”

“He might marry a wife, and have a house full of children, for all that; that’s the difference between being a saint and a priest; there’s no harm in being in love with a saint, and I am very much in love with Cathelineau.”

“Why, you little ninny, you never saw him,” said Chapean.

“No matter,” said Annot; “ninny, or no ninny, I’ll go where I’m like to see him; and I’m sure I’ll never bear the sight of another man afterwards; the dear, good, sweet Cathelineau, with his curly hair, and fine whiskers, and black bright eyes; he’s better than all the noblemen:  I declare I dreamed of him these last two nights.”

Chapeau left the side of his mistress, muttering something about stupid foolish chits of girls, and continued his description of M. d’Elbee to the men.