“’What ails them, Peter?” said Cathelineau, catching hold of the arm of a man who had followed him from St. Florent, “if they advance they will be destroyed at Varin;” and as he spoke, he leapt upon the top of one of the waggons laden with provisions, which had come from Durbelliere.

It was a beautiful warm evening in June, and the air was heavy with the sweet scent of the flowering hedges; it was now nearly nine o’clock, and the sun had set; but the whole western horizon was gorgeous with the crimson streaks which accompanied its setting.  Standing in the waggon, Cathelineau could see the crowds of hurrying royalists rushing along the road, wherever the thick foliage of trees was sufficiently broken to leave any portion of it visible, and he could hear the eager hum of their voices both near him and at a distance.

“No power on earth could bring them back,” said he.  “Now, Peter, run to the stable for your life; my horse is there and M. de Lescure’s—­bring them both.  They are both saddled.  Run my friend; a moment lost now will cost a hundred lives.”

It was Peter Berrier to whom he spoke, and in spite of his evil treatment at Durbelliere, Peter ran for the horses, as though he was running for the King’s crown.

“It is impossible to stop them,” said Cathelineau, still standing on the waggon, and speaking to de Lescure, whom he had outran.  “All La Vendee could not stop them; but we may head them, M. de Lescure, and lead them on; we must attack the camp tonight.”

“Our loss will be terrible if we do,” said de Lescure.

“It will, it will be terrible, and we shall be repulsed; but that will be better than letting them rush into positive destruction.  In an hour’s time they will be between the camp, the town, and the heights of Bournan, and nothing then could save them.”

“Let us go, then,” said de Lescure; “but will you not send to d’Elbee?”

“Yes; but do not desire him to follow us.  In two hours time he will have enough to do to cover our retreat.”

“We shall, at any rate, have the darkness in our favour,” said de Lescure.

“We shall; but we have two dreadful hours of light before that time comes:  here are our horses—­let us mount; there is nothing for us now but a hard ride, a good drubbing—­and then, the best face we can put upon it tomorrow.”

Orders were then given to Peter Berrier to make the best of his way across to M. d’Elbee, and to explain to him what had occurred, and bid him keep his men in reserve under arms, and as near to the waggons as he could.  “And be sure,” said Catheineau, “be sure, Peter, to make him understand, that he is at once to leave the river and come across to the road, to keep his men, you know, immediately close to the waggons.”

“I understand,” said Peter, “I understand,” and he at once started off on his important errand.

“It is a bad messenger, I fear,” said Cathelineau; “but we have no better; indeed we are lucky even to find him.”