Jacques Chapeau was about five years older than his master, and was as
active and well made a little Frenchman, as ever danced all night at a
ball outside the barriers of Paris. He was a light-hearted and
kind-hearted creature, although he always considered it necessary to
have mortal enemies--horrid, blasphemous, blood-thirsty fellows, men
devoid of feeling, without faith, hope, or charity, who would willingly
slaughter women and children for the mere pleasure of doing so. Such,
in Chapeau's imagination, were all his enemies--such had been the
aristocrats during the time of his revolutionary fervour--such now were
the republicans. Chapeau loved his own side truly and faithfully,
without any admixture of self in his calculations, but I certainly
cannot say for him that he was a good Christian, for all the clergymen
in Anjou could not have taught him to love his enemies.
On a beautiful summer's morning, on the 2nd of June, this remarkable
recruiting party rode from Durbelliere to the little village of
Echanbroignes; the distance was about four leagues, and their road lay,
the whole way, through the sweet green leafy lanes of the Bocage.
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