“My country is the country of my adoption,”
said Westerman. “I ceased to be a German
when I took up the arms of France; but my soldiers
are my children, and an insult to them is an injury
to myself.”
“If your anger can wait till the revolt in La
Vendee has been quelled,” said Chouardin, “my
friend Bourbotte will be ready enough to satisfy your
wishes as a citizen. Barrere truly says, this
is no time for private quarrels.”
“So be it,” said Westerman. “Let
General Bourbotte remember that he owes me an apology
or redress.”
“You shall have any redress, which any arms
you may be pleased to name can give you,” said
Bourbotte.
“By my honour then, you are two fools,”
said Santerre; “two egregious fools, if you
cannot at once forget the angry words which you each
have used. Have your own way, however, so long
as you do not fight here.”
As the brewer was yet speaking, a servant knocked
at the door, and said that a young man wished to say
a few words to citizen Santerre on especial business,
and on the service of the Republic.
“On the service of the Republic?” said
Santerre. “Show him in here then; I have
no official secrets from my colleagues.”
The servant, however, stated that the young man would
not make his appearance in the room where the party
were sitting, and he declared he would go away if
he could not see Santerre alone. The republican
at length yielded, and followed the servant into a
small sitting-room, where he found our friend, Adolphe
Denot.
BATTLE OF AMAILLOU
It will be remembered that Adolphe Denot left the
council-room of the royalist leaders at Saumur in
anger; and that, after a few words with Henri Larochejaquelin,
departed no one knew whither, or for what purpose.
On leaving Henri in the street, he had himself no fixed
resolve as to his future conduct; he was only determined
no longer to remain leagued with men, among whom he
felt himself to be disgraced. De Lescure had
seen him hesitate in the hour of danger, and had encouraged
him in vain; he knew that after this he could never
again bear to meet the calm grey eye of his friend’s
cousin; he had not only been not selected as one of
the Generals, but he had even been rejected, and that
by the very man who had seen his cowardice. His
love, moreover, had been refused by Agatha, and he
deemed this refusal an injury which demanded vengeance
from his hands; from the moment in which he left her
room in Durbelliere, schemes had floated across his
half-bewildered brain for the accomplishment of his
object. He still loved Agatha, though his love
was, as it were, mingled with hatred; he still wished
to possess her, but he did not care how disagreeable,
how horrible to herself might be the means by which
he accomplished his object. He entertained ideas
of seizing upon her person, taking her from Durbelliere,
