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"That fat priest whose name you asked is the Abbe Gudin, a Jesuit, obstinate enough perhaps I ought to say devoted enough, to remain in France in spite of the decree of 1793, which banished his order. He is the firebrand of the war in these regions and a propagandist of the religious association called the Sacre-Coeur.
The Abbe Gudin said he'd have to roam round two months as a ghost before he could come to life. We saw him pass us, he was pale, he was cold, he was thin, he smelt of the cemetery." "And his Reverence says that if a ghost gets hold of a living man he can force him to be his companion," said the fourth Chouan.
"The sly old wolf!" thought Corentin, as the shining muzzle of the last gun disappeared in the bushes. "The Gars is done for. If Marie had only betrayed that damned marquis, she and I would have been united in the strongest of all bonds a vile deed. But she's mine, in any case." The twelve young men under Gudin soon reached the base of the rocks of Saint-Sulpice.
When Corentin came near the old warrior he could not help smiling at the change which had taken place in him. He looked like a portrait that has little or no resemblance to the original. "What's all this?" asked Corentin. "Come with us under fire, and you'll find out," replied Hulot. "Oh! I'm not a Fougeres man," said Corentin. "Easy to see that, citizen," retorted Gudin.
Every time the word "money" was mentioned the driver was silent, and the rector had wit enough to doubt whether the patriot had any at all, and to suspect that the driver was carrying a good deal. "Are you well laden, Coupiau?" he asked. "Oh, no, Monsieur Gudin," replied the coachman. "I'm carrying next to nothing."
"I'll send Beau-Pied to let you know when to play your sabres. Try to meet the marquis yourself, and if you can manage to kill him, so that I sha'n't have to shoot him judicially, you shall be a lieutenant in a fortnight or my name's not Hulot." Gudin departed with a dozen soldiers. "Do you know what you have done?" said Corentin to Mademoiselle de Verneuil, in a low voice.
"Your brother denied God; and as for you, you bought the abbey of Juvigny. The Abbe Gudin says we can roast apostates when we find them." "But, my brothers in God, I don't refuse to pay." "We gave you two weeks, and it is now two months, and Galope-Chopine here hasn't received the money." "Haven't you received any of it, Galope-Chopine?" asked the miser, in despair.
'Comrade, say I, 'the army thanks you for your courtesy. 'Brother, he say, 'twas to your drum, and his eye flash out where Gudin carved his way through those pigs of Prussians. 'I'd take my head off to keep your saddle filled, comrade, say I. Ping! come a bullet and catch me in the calf. 'You hold your head too high, brother, the general say, and he smile.
But human passions, the momentary repression of which gave harmony to the picture, soon reappeared on this mysterious scene and gave it powerful vitality. As Mademoiselle de Verneuil reached the spot the reading of the gospel was just over. She recognized in the officiating priest, not without fear, the Abbe Gudin, and she hastily slipped behind a granite block, drawing Francine after her.
He was my only relation, and though he cursed me, still he loved me. If the king returns, the neighborhood will want my head, and my poor uncle would have saved it." "What a fool Gudin is," said one of the men who had stayed behind to share the spoils; "his uncle was rich, and he hasn't had time to make a will and disinherit him."
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