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At first he beseeched them to leave him and old Momont, among his birds and cherry trees, declaring that nothing that the blues could do to him would be to him so calamitous as his removal from the spot in which he had so long taken root.
"Do pray tell us the rest," said the page, who sat listening intently with his mouth wide open. "I do so like it; pray tell us what Momont did after he became a beast of prey?"
"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."
"Here's his health then, and God bless him!" said Momont. "It was I first showed him how to fire a pistol; and very keen he was at taking to gunpowder." "Indeed, and indeed he was," said the housekeeper. "When he was no more than twelve years old, not nigh as big as the little Chevalier, he let off the big blunderbuss in my bed-room, and I on my knees at prayers the while.
Momont attempted to conceal himself in the garden, but he was soon found and brought back again, and stationed among the women. Chapeau was not seen at all, and even the little Chevalier was missing for a time, though he returned of his own accord before Santerre had been long in possession of the place.
He could not bear the aristocratic foppery of that Cathelineau. "And were you a conscript yourself, Peter Berrier?" said Jacques Chapeau. "Of course I was," said Peter. "Why, haven't you heard what the revolt of St. Florent was about?" "Well; we have heard something about it," said Momont; "but we didn't exactly hear your name mentioned."
Have we not sufficient weight with you are we not near enough to your hearts, to obtain from you this boon?" "We will, we will," shouted they; "we will forgive no, we won't forgive him, but we'll let him go; only, Mademoiselle, let him go from this let him not show himself here any more. There, lads, there's an end of it. Give Momont back the rope.
"And our own young master was the first royalist who put his foot in Saumur?" asked Momont, who had already received the information he required four or five times, and on each occasion had drunk Henri's health in about half-a-pint of wine. "Indeed he was," said Chapeau, "the very first. You don't think he'd have let any one go before him."
"Feet uppermost!" shouted Momont, "and is that your idea of storming a town, to go into it feet uppermost?" "But do you really mean to say that you were absolutely wet through when you took Saumur?" said the laundress. "Indeed we were," answered Chapeau, "wringing wet, every man of us." "Lawks! how uncomfortable," said the cook. "And M. Henri, was he wet too?"
"God bless you, Momont" said Agatha, calmly, as she stood close to her father, still holding to his coat, and supporting his head against her body. "Let your last thoughts be of the Saviour who died for you, and so shall your death be only the end of all your troubles." He was not allowed to remain longer on his knees, but was hurried back to the spot where the women were awaiting their doom.
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