“I knew you wouldn’t,” said the other; “no one on earth would take me to be a tradesman—that’s what they all say; I have that kind of manner about me, that I look like a soldier—I did when I hadn’t been at it above a week. Every one used to say, Plume, you were born to be an officer; Plume, you will live to be a General: and if I don’t get killed in the wars, I think I shall. Now it’s only three months since I joined, and I am already second in command in the whole army.”
Michael Stein stared at him, as he repeated his words, “Second in command in the whole army!”
“Indeed I am, my friend, the second in command. You wouldn’t believe it, now, but I was sticking loaves of bread into an oven three or four months ago.”
“The second in command!” said Michael, still regarding his companion with a look in which incredulous surprise and involuntary reverence were blended. “I suppose you’re a great way above Jacques Chapeau, then?”
“Oh, my friend Chapeau—and do you know my friend Chapeau? No, I’m not above him; he’s not in our army; he’s second in command himself in the Vendean army. You know I belong to La Petite Vendée.”
At this moment, the very man of whom they were speaking, the redoubtable Chapeau, came up with a large party of straggling Vendeans, out of breath with running; they were in full pursuit of the blues, who were now said to be flying towards Antrâmes and Château-Gonthier.
“Come, my friends,” said Chapeau, “no idling now; come to Antrâmes, and we’ll get plenty of arms, if we get nothing else. What, is it you, Captain Plume. I’m told you did as well as the best today; and what—my dear old friend Michael: a soldier at last, eh, Michael Stein! Come, man, don’t be ashamed to give us your hand; you’ve joined us in very good time, for the Vendeans never gained such a victory as they have today. Come on, old friend, we’ll get another sight of these running devils at Antrârnes.”
“They may run for me, M. Chapeau, and run far enough, before I try to stop them; do you know I’m nearly ashamed of what I’ve been doing as it is.”
“Ashamed!—ashamed of what?” said Chapeau.
“Why look there,” said Michael; and as he spoke, he pointed with his foot to the body of a republican soldier, who lay calmly at his ease, in the sleep of death, not three yards from the spot where the old man was now standing.