"What shall we
do--where are we to go? Speak, Charles, for heaven's sake, speak!"
Marie had opened the door, and now stood with it in her hands, wishing
to run, and yet not choosing to leave her companions in misfortune;
while Agatha vainly endeavoured with her unassisted strength to remove
her father from the room.
"Henri is just where he ought to be," said de Lescure.
"There--there--now they come--now they come. By heavens, there's Denot
leading--and see, there's de Bauge and Arthur--dear boy, gallant boy.
Well done, Henri Larochejaquelin: had you been grey it could not have
been better done; he has got the blues as it were into a wine-press;
poor devils, not one can escape alive."
De Lescure, when he first saw the republicans coming down the street,
had for a moment thought that the town was in their hands; but a
minute's reflection served to show him, that were such really the case,
they would have driven before them hundreds of the retreating Vendeans.
The peasants had never yet so utterly forgotten their courage, as to
throw down their weapons at the first sight of their enemy, and fly
without making an effort for victory, and de Lescure was sure that such
could not now have been the case.
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