He caught her to him, cold and unresisting, and gathered from her lips a kiss of horror and of joy, for while it was the first, it might also be the last.Then they went together to the door and looked cautiously out.The marquis saw Gudin and his men holding the paths leading to the valley.Then he turned to the line of gates where the first rotten trunk was guarded by five men.Without an instant's pause he jumped on the barrel of cider and struck a hole through the thatch of the roof, from which to spring upon the rocks behind the house; but he drew his head hastily back through the gap he had made, for Hulot was on the height; his retreat was cut off in that direction.The marquis turned and looked at his mistress, who uttered a cry of despair; for she heard the tramp of the three detachments near the house.
"Go out first," he said; "you shall save me."Hearing the words, to her all-glorious, she went out and stood before the door.The marquis loaded his musket.Measuring with his eye the space between the door of the hut and the old rotten trunk where seven men stood, the Gars fired into their midst and sprang forward instantly, forcing a passage through them.The three troops rushed towards the opening through which he had passed, and saw him running across the field with incredible celerity.
"Fire! fire! a thousand devils! You're not Frenchmen! Fire, I say!"called Hulot.
As he shouted these words from the height above, his men and Gudin's fired a volley, which was fortunately ill-aimed.The marquis reached the gate of the next field, but as he did so he was almost caught by Gudin, who was close upon his heels.The Gars redoubled his speed.
Nevertheless, he and his pursuer reached the next barrier together;but the marquis dashed his musket at Gudin's head with so good an aim that he stopped his rush.It is impossible to depict the anxiety betrayed by Marie, or the interest of Hulot and his troops as they watched the scene.They all, unconsciously or silently, repeated the gestures which they saw the runners making.The Gars and Gudin reached the little wood together, but as they did so the latter stopped and darted behind a tree.About twenty Chouans, afraid to fire at a distance lest they should kill their leader, rushed from the copse and riddled the tree with balls.Hulot's men advanced at a run to save Gudin, who, being without arms, retreated from tree to tree, seizing his opportunity as the Chouans reloaded.His danger was soon over.
Hulot and the Blues met him at the spot where the marquis had thrown his musket.At this instant Gudin perceived his adversary sitting among the trees and out of breath, and he left his comrades firing at the Chouans, who had retreated behind a lateral hedge; slipping round them, he darted towards the marquis with the agility of a wild animal.
Observing this manoeuvre the Chouans set up a cry to warn their leader;then, having fired on the Blues and their contingent with the gusto of poachers, they boldly made a rush for them; but Hulot's men sprang through the hedge which served them as a rampart and took a bloody revenge.The Chouans then gained the road which skirted the fields and took to the heights which Hulot had committed the blunder of abandoning.Before the Blues had time to reform, the Chouans were entrenched behind the rocks, where they could fire with impunity on the Republicans if the latter made any attempt to dislodge them.
While Hulot and his soldiers went slowly towards the little wood to meet Gudin, the men from Fougeres busied themselves in rifling the dead Chouans and dispatching those who still lived.In this fearful war neither party took prisoners.The marquis having made good his escape, the Chouans and the Blues mutually recognized their respective positions and the uselessness of continuing the fight; so that both sides prepared to retreat.
"Ha! ha!" cried one of the Fougeres men, busy about the bodies, "here's a bird with yellow wings."And he showed his companions a purse full of gold which he had just found in the pocket of a stout man dressed in black.
"What's this?" said another, pulling a breviary from the dead man's coat.
"Communion bread--he's a priest!" cried the first man, flinging the breviary on the ground.
"Here's a wretch!" cried a third, finding only two crowns in the pockets of the body he was stripping, "a cheat!""But he's got a fine pair of shoes!" said a soldier, beginning to pull them off.
"You can't have them unless they fall to your share," said the Fougeres man, dragging the dead feet away and flinging the boots on a heap of clothing already collected.
Another Chouan took charge of the money, so that lots might be drawn as soon as the troops were all assembled.When Hulot returned with Gudin, whose last attempt to overtake the Gars was useless as well as perilous, he found about a score of his own men and thirty of the contingent standing around eleven of the enemy, whose naked bodies were thrown into a ditch at the foot of the bank.
"Soldiers!" cried Hulot, sternly."I forbid you to share that clothing.Form in line, quick!""Commandant," said a soldier, pointing to his shoes, at the points of which five bare toes could be seen on each foot, "all right about the money, but those boots," motioning to a pair of hobnailed boots with the butt of his gun, "would fit me like a glove.""Do you want to put English shoes on your feet?" retorted Hulot.
"But," said one of the Fougeres men, respectfully, "we've divided the booty all through the war.""I don't prevent you civilians from following your own ways," replied Hulot, roughly.
"Here, Gudin, here's a purse with three louis," said the officer who was distributing the money."You have run hard and the commandant won't prevent your taking it."Hulot looked askance at Gudin, and saw that he turned pale.
"It's my uncle's purse!" exclaimed the young man.
