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Updated: June 28, 2025
His family were grocers at Bordeaux, and his father's name was M. Cabasse. He had married a noble in the revolutionary times; and the son at Paris himself himself Victor Cabasse de Castillonnes; then Victor C. de Castillonnes; then M. de Castillonnes.
In the end Sambuc prevailed on Father Fouchard to let him have a sack, although it wrung the old miser's heartstrings to part with it. He selected one that was full of holes, remarking that anything was good enough for a Prussian. Cabasse and Ducat had all the trouble in the world to get Goliah into it; it was too short and too narrow for the long, broad body, and the feet protruded at its mouth.
Every ne'er-do-well who hated the restraints of the regular service made haste to join their ranks, well pleased with the chance that exempted him from discipline and enabled him to lead the life of a tramp, tippling in pothouses and sleeping by the roadside at his own sweet will. Some of the companies were recruited from the very worst material imaginable. "Hallo there, Cabasse! Ducat!"
Why the devil don't you call it a hundred thousand at once? You were dreaming, young man; your fright has made you see double. It is impossible there should be sixty thousand Germans so near us without our knowing it." And so he went on. It was to no purpose that Sambuc appealed to Ducat and Cabasse to confirm his statement.
He hurriedly explained that he was French, a sergeant of francs-tireurs, and had come with two of his men from the wood of Dieulet, bringing important information for the general. "Hallo there, Cabasse! Ducat!" he shouted, turning his head, "hallo! you infernal poltroons, come here!" The men were evidently badly scared, but they came forward.
Ducat, short and fat, with a pale face and scanty hair; Cabasse short and lean, with a black face and a long nose not much thicker than a knife-blade. Meantime Maurice had stepped up and taken a closer look at the sergeant; he finally asked him: "Tell me, are you not Guillaume Sambuc, of Remilly?"
Cabasse, the little lean fellow, was a native of Toulon, had served as waiter in a cafe at Marseilles, had failed at Sedan as a broker in southern produce, and finally had brought up in a police-court, where it came near going hard with him, in connection with a robbery of which the details were suppressed.
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