At this moment, the municipal officers appeared. They commanded M. de Damas to order his men back to their barracks, as the hour for retreat had passed away.
During this time, Drouet had changed his horse and started off at a gallop.
M. de Damas, who had not yet lost all hope of taking off his men, doubted to what end M. Drouet had set off. He called a dragoon, on whose fidelity he knew that he could depend; ordered him to catch up Drouet; stop him from following that road; and, if he resisted to slay him.
The name of the dragoon was Legache.
Without making any objection, with the passive obedience of a soldier—perhaps with the warm devotion of a Royalist,—he darted off in pursuit of Drouet.
Scarcely had he started, when, as you have already been told, the council commanded M. de Damas to withdraw his men into barracks.
But instead of obeying, like M. Dandoins, M. de Damas drew his sword, struck his spurs into the belly of his horse, dashed into the midst of the crowd, and cried, “All who love me, follow!”
Three men alone replied to this appeal, and dashed after M. Damas, at a gallop, down the hill of Clermont.
Drouet was three-quarters of a league in advance of them, but he was pursued by a brave, determined, and well-mounted man.