“You couldn’t have expected it, because it was I who advised him to make it.”
“You thought differently a few moments ago.”
“Yes; but you yourself reminded me that I was not General Hatry. Come, what is your third proposition?” said Roland impatiently; for he began to perceive, or rather he had perceived from the beginning, that the noble part in the affair belonged to the royalist general.
“My third proposition,” said Cadoudal, “is not a proposition but an order; an order for two hundred of my men to withdraw. General Hatry has one hundred men; I will keep one hundred. My Breton forefathers were accustomed to fight foot to foot, breast to breast, man to man, and oftener one to three than three to one. If General Hatry is victorious, he can walk over our bodies and tranquilly enter Vannes; if he is defeated, he cannot say it is by numbers. Go, Monsieur de Montrevel, and remain with your friends. I give them thus the advantage of numbers, for you alone are worth ten men.”
Roland raised his hat.
“What are you doing, sir?” demanded Cadoudal.
“I always bow to that which is grand, general; I bow to you.”
“Come, colonel,” said Cadoudal, “a last glass of wine; let each of us drink to what we love best, to that which we grieve to leave behind, to that we hope to meet in heaven.”
Taking the bottle and the one glass, he filled it half full, and offered it to Roland. “We have but one glass, Monsieur de Montrevel; drink first.”
“Why first?”