"Charles," said he, the evening before his departure, as he stood close
to the garden seat, on which his cousin was sitting, and amused himself
with pitching stones into the river, which ran beneath the lawn at
Clisson. "Charles, I shall be off tomorrow; I almost envy you the broken
arm which keeps you here."
"It won't keep me long now, Henri," said he; "I shall be at Chatillon
in a week's time, unless you and d'Elbee have moved to Parthenay before
that. Cathelineau will by that time be master of Nantes, that is, if he
is ever to be master of it."
"Don't doubt it, Charles. I do not the least: think of all Charette's
army. I would wager my sword to a case-dagger, that Nantes is in his
hands this minute."
"We cannot always have the luck we had at Saumur, Henri?"
"No," said Henri, "nor can we always have a de Lescure to knock down for
us the gates of the republicans."
"Nor yet a Larochejaquelin to force his way through the breach," said
the other.
"Now we are even," said Henri, laughing; "but really, without joking,
I feel confident that the white flag is floating at this moment on the
castle at Nantes; but it is not of that, Charles, that I wish to speak
now.
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