"Parbleu, as if it were yesterday! and especially the night after it. Ha! that expedition would have been a success, and I might have strangled the insurrection at its birth if a scoundrelly keeper hadn't inveigled one of my troopers. By the bye, what was that man's name?"
"Jean Oullier."
"What became of him?"
Courtin could not help turning pale.
"He died," he said.
"The best thing he could do, poor devil; and yet, I'm sorry too,--he was a brave fellow."
"If you remember the man who defeated the affair, general, it seems strange you have forgotten the one who helped you with information."
The general looked at Courtin.
"Jean Oullier was a soldier, a comrade, and soldiers remember each other; the rest--I mean spies and informers--they forget as soon as possible."
"Very well," said Courtin. "Then I shall have to refresh your memory, general, and tell you that I am the man who informed you of Petit-Pierre's hiding-place."