"My name is Francoise Cathelineau," said the sybil, "and Jacques
Cathelineau was my son."
"And proud you may be to have been his mother. He was a great and good
man: he was trusted and loved by all La Vendee. No one was so beloved
by the poor as he was; no one was so entirely trusted by the rich and
great."
"I wish that the rich and great had left him as they found him. It would
be well for him and me this morning, if he had not so entirely trusted
them."
"His death was a noble death. He died for the throne which he honoured,
and loved so loyally; and his name will be honoured in Poitou, aye, and
in all France, as long as the names of the great and the good are
remembered. It must be a bitter thing to lose an only son, but his
dearest friends should not regret him in such a cause."
"Dearest friends! What do you know of his dearest friends? How can you
tell what his dearest friends may feel about it?"
"I know what I feel myself. Perhaps I cannot judge of all a mother's
agony in losing her son; but I may truly say, that of those who knew
Cathelineau, none valued him more than I did.
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