“My soldiers have met with a reverse, General de Lescure,” said he, “which has thrown me and them into the power of your friends.  I take the earliest opportunity of thanking you for the kind treatment we have received.”

“If, at some future time, when our soldiers may be in your power, you will remember it; the Marquis de Larochejaquelin will feel himself amply repaid for such attention as he has been able to shew you,” said de Lescure.

“You know we were in General Santerre’s power last night,” said the Chevalier; “and he could have shot us all had he pleased it; indeed we all expected it, when the blues came upon us.”

“They shall not find that we will be less merciful, Arthur,” said de Lescure.  “General Santerre knows that the Vendean royalists have never disgraced themselves by shedding the blood of the prisoners whom the chance of war may have thrown into their hands.  He knows that they can be brave without being cruel.  I grieve to say that the republicans have hitherto not often allowed us to repay mercy with mercy.  We shall now be glad to take advantage of the opportunity of doing so.”

“What will you do with him, M. de Lescure,” said Father Jerome in a whisper, pointing to Denot.  “I never before saw the people greedy for blood; but now they declare that no mercy should be shown to a traitor.”

“We must teach them, Father Jerome, that it is God’s will that those who wish to be pardoned themselves must pardon others.  You have taught them lessons more difficult to learn than this; and I do not doubt that in this, as in other things, they will obey their priest.”  And as he spoke de Lescure laid his hand on the Cure’s shoulder.

“You won’t hang him then?” whispered the Chevalier.

“You wouldn’t have me do so, would you, Arthur?”

“Who—­I?” said the boy.  “No—­that is, I don’t know.  I wouldn’t like to have to say that anybody should be hung; but if anybody ever did deserve it, he does.”

“And you, Father Jerome?” said de Lescure, “you agree with me?  You would not have us sully our pure cause with a cold-blooded execution?”

The three were now standing at an open window, looking into the garden.  Their backs were turned to Santerre and Denot, and they were speaking in low whispers; but nevertheless Denot either guessed or overheard that he was the subject of their conversation.  The priest did not immediately answer de Lescure’s appeal.  In his heart he thought that the circumstances not only justified, but demanded the traitor’s death; but, remembering his profession, and the lessons of mercy it was his chief business to teach, he hesitated to be the first to say that he thought the young man should be doomed.

“Well, Father Jerome,” said de Lescure, looking into the priest’s face, “surely you have no difficulty in answering me?”

The Cure was saved the necessity of answering the appeal; for while he was still balancing between what he thought to be his duty, and that which was certainly his inclination, Denot himself interrupted the whisperers.