Denot, in an awkward way, got through his story; he had been one of the insurgent Vendeans, he said, but he now wished to serve the Republic. He was intimately acquainted with the royalist leaders, especially the two most popular of them, de Lescure and Larochejaquelin. He knew and was willing to betray their plans. He would accompany Santerre to the residences of these Vendean Generals, and undertake to give them, their families, and possessions, into the power of the republicans, and for these services he asked but one favour; that he should be present at the contemplated burning of Durbellière, and be allowed to save the life of one female who resided there. He represented that his animosity arose entirely from the rejection of his love, and that his only object was to carry off the sister of the Vendean chief from the burning ashes of her father’s château.
“Are you aware, young man,” said Santerre, with something of generosity in the warning which he gave—a generosity probably inspired by the wine he had drunk: “are you aware, that should I agree to your proposal, every other member of her family will be put to death before your eyes —her brother, her old father, and every pestilent royalist we may find about the place?”
“I suppose they will,” said Denot moodily. “At any rate, they deserve no protection at my hands.”
“You have probably eaten their bread and drank their wine. You say, indeed, you have lived long in this rambling château, and have fought side by side with this hot-headed young brigand. Bethink you, my friend, you are angry now, but it may turn your stomach, when you are cool, to see the blood of those you know so well running like water; besides, you are taking but an unlikely road to the heart of the girl you say you love. No one has heard your plot but myself: I advise you to abandon it; if you do so, I will forget that I have heard it. You are angry now; go home and sleep on it.”
“Sleep on it! I have slept on it these three weeks. No, I did not come to you till I was fully resolved. As for these people, I owe them nothing; they have scorned and rejected me; and as for the girl’s heart, it is not that I seek now. Let me gain her person, and her heart will follow. A woman soon learns to love him whom she is forced to obey.”
“Well, be it as you will,” said Santerre. “It is all a matter of taste; only remember, that before I accede to your proposal, I must consult with my colleagues in the next room, and that when once I have spoken to them it will be too late for me to go back.”
Denot declared that he had formed his resolution after mature consideration, and that he was ready and willing to carry through the work he had proposed for himself; and Santerre, without making any further objection, rejoined his friends in the next room, and explained to them the offer which had been made to him. Barrère at first opposed any treaty with Denot. He recommended that the young man should be kept as a prisoner, and at once handed over to the revolutionary tribunal.
“What good can he do us?” said he; “we can find our way to this Durbellière without his assistance; let him and the girl he wishes to kidnap pay the penalty of their crimes against the Republic. She is, I suppose, one of those modern Joans of Arc, who inspire the flagging spirits of these peasants. Should she have beauty enough to make her worth preserving, let her be the prize of some true republican. As for him, let him stretch his neck beneath the guillotine.”
Barrère, however, was overruled. The Generals who were with him knew too well the nature of the country they were about to invade, not to appreciate the value of such a guide as they might find in Denot: a guide, who not only knew the nature of the country they had to traverse, and the position of the places they wished to attack, but who was also intimate with the insurgent chiefs, acquainted with their persons and their plans, and who would probably disclose, under proper management, every secret of the revolt. It was accordingly agreed that his offer should be accepted, and he was introduced by Santerre to his four confederates.
“Sit down, my friend,” said Barrère, “sit down. Our colleague here informs us that you are sick of these mawkish royalists, and are willing to serve the Republic. Is it so, young man?”