Indeed he did, Monsieur, more than any one now alive--more even than
myself, and that is saying a great deal. Jacques Chapeau was an officer
high in command through the whole Vendean war; and I, even I, humble as
I am now, I also was thought not unworthy to lead brave men into battle.
I, Monsieur, am Auguste Plume; and though now merely a perruquier's poor
assistant, I was once the officer second in command in the army of La
Petite Vendee.
The gentleman turned round and gazed at the singular apparition, which
the obscurity of the shop only just permitted him to distinguish.
Auguste Flume was now above sixty years old, and completely bald; his
face was thin, lanternjawed, and cadaverous; and his eyes, which were
weak with age, were red and bleared; still he had not that ghastly, sick
appearance, which want both of food and rest had given him in the
glorious days to which he alluded: after the struggle in La Vendee, he
had lived for some time a wretched life, more like that of a beast than
a man; hiding in woods, living on roots, and hunting with the appetite
of a tiger after the blood of stray republicans; his wife and children
had perished in Carrier's noyades in the Loire; he himself had existed
through two years of continued suffering, with a tenacity of life which
almost reached to a miracle.
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