“Because, in the first place, you are my guest, and also because there is a proverb that whoever drinks after another knows his thought.” Then, he added, laughing: “I want to know your thought, Monsieur de Montrevel.”
Roland emptied the glass and returned it to Cadoudal. The latter filled his glass half full, as he had done for Roland, and emptied it in turn.
“Well,” asked Roland, “now do you know my thought, general?”
“My thought,” said Roland, with his usual frankness, “is that you are a brave man, general. I shall feel honored if, at this moment when we are going to fight against each other, you will give me your hand.”
The two young men clasped hands, more like friends parting for a long absence than two enemies about to meet on the battlefield. There was a simple grandeur, full of majesty, in this action. Each raised his hat.
“Good luck!” said Roland to Cadoudal; “but allow me to doubt it. I must even confess that it is from my lips, not my heart.”
“God keep you, sir,” said Cadoudal, “and I hope that my wish will be realized. It is the honest expression of my thoughts.”
“What is to be the signal that you are ready?” inquired Roland.
“A musket shot fired in the air, to which you will reply in the same way.”
“Very good, general,” replied Roland. And putting his horse to a gallop, he crossed the space between the royalist general and the Republican general for the third time.