De Lescure, however, would not allow of this. He had promised that he would not disgrace Denot, by telling of the cowardice he had shewn at the Bridge of Fouchard, and he was determined to keep his word; but he would not allow his cousin, his pupil, his bosom friend, the man whom he loved with the affection of a brother and a father, to sink himself to the same level as a coward.
“How absurd is this!” said he, angrily. “I wonder, Henri, that you should be the first to create such foolish difficulties, when our very existence depends on perfect unanimity. In proportion as our means of enforcing obedience is slender, should our resolution be firm, implicitly to obey the directions of those who are selected as our leaders. We have made Cathelineau our General, and desired him to select his officers, and when he selects you as one, you object. If you object from a proper modesty, it argues that those who accept, shew an improper degree of assurance. You should think of these things, Henri.”
“I resign myself to my dignity, and am dumb,” said Henri laughing. “Go on, Cathelineau, and if the men you name, say but one word, one syllable against your choice—I’ll slay them.”
Cathelineau knew that all his difficulty still lay before him; those whom he had already chosen would as a matter of course be among the number; but who were to be the other three?
“M. Donnissan,” said be, in a whisper to de Lescure, who was sitting next to him. “I do not know what his wishes might be.”
“My father-in-law feels himself too old,” answered de Lescure; “d’Elbée would be a much fitter person; he is thought so much of at Beauprieu.”
“And the other two?” asked Cathelineau.
“Name one yourself, and ask Bonchamps to name the other.”
“M. d’Elbée,” said Cathelineau, aloud, “you will not, I am sure, refuse to take your portion of our labours.”
“You will find,” whispered Stofflet to his neighbour, “that as Providence has called upon him, he will be willing enough.”