under the command of Colonel Masson and Monsieur de Bleriot, the prefect of the department, was advancing by forced marches to disperse the insurrectionary bands.  This news came like a thunderbolt, at once awakening rage and despair.  These men, who on the previous evening had been all aglow with patriotic fever, now shivered with cold, chilled to their hearts by the shameful submissiveness of prostrate France.  They alone, then, had had the courage to do their duty!  And now they were to be left to perish amidst the general panic, the death-like silence of the country; they had become mere rebels, who would be hunted down like wild beasts; they, who had dreamed of a great war, of a whole nation in revolt, and of the glorious conquest of the people’s rights!  Miserably baffled and betrayed, this handful of men could but weep for their dead faith and their vanished dreams of justice.  There were some who, while taunting France with her cowardice, flung away their arms, and sat down by the roadside, declaring that they would there await the bullets of the troops, and show how Republicans could die.

Although these men had nothing now but death or exile before them, there were very few desertions from their ranks.  A splendid feeling of solidarity kept them together.  Their indignation turned chiefly against their leaders, who had really proved incapable.  Irreparable mistakes had been committed; and now the insurgents, without order or discipline, barely protected by a few sentries, and under the command of irresolute men, found themselves at the mercy of the first soldiers that might arrive.

They spent two more days at Orcheres, Tuesday and Wednesday, thus losing time and aggravating the situation.  The general, the man with the sabre, whom Silvere had pointed out to Miette on the Plassans road, vacillated and hesitated under the terrible responsibility that weighed upon him.  On Thursday he came to the conclusion that the position of Orcheres was a decidedly dangerous one; so towards one o’clock he gave orders to march, and led his little army to the heights of Sainte-Roure.  That was, indeed, an impregnable position for any one who knew how to defend it.  The houses of Sainte-Roure rise in tiers along a hill-side; behind the town all approach is shut off by enormous rocks, so that this kind of citadel can only be reached by the Nores plain, which spreads out at the foot of the plateau.  An esplanade, converted into a public walk planted with magnificent elms, overlooks the plain.  It was on this esplanade that the insurgents encamped.  The hostages were imprisoned in the Hotel de la Mule-Blanche, standing half-way along the promenade.  The night passed away heavy and black.  The insurgents spoke of treachery.  As soon as it was morning, however, the man with the sabre, who had neglected to take the simplest precautions, reviewed the troops.  The contingents were drawn up in line with their backs turned to the plain.  They presented a wonderful medley of costume, some