La Vendée

by Anthony Trollope

Henri and Denot were among the first of the pursuers; indeed, of so desultory a nature was the battle, that the contest was still continued near the gate of the town, while they were far on their road towards Antrâmes. They passed almost in a gallop through that place, and did not stop until they found themselves, towards evening, close to the bridge, leading into Château-Gonthier. Here they perceived that Lechelle had made some little attempt to defend his position. He had drawn out two cannons to the head of the bridge; had stayed the course of a few fugitives, with whom he attempted to defend the entrance into the town; and had again taken upon himself the duties of a General.

The pursuers now amounted to about three hundred horsemen, the very men who had made the first attack on the blues in the streets of Laval, and Henri knew that so soon after their complete and signal success nothing could daunt them, and that, in all probability, no effort of the beaten republicans could turn them back.

“Come,” said he, speaking to those who were nearest to him, “only a few yards farther, and we shall be far enough. It shall never be said that the vanquished slept in the town while their conquerors lay in the fields;” and again he put spurs to his horse, and with a yell of triumph, his men followed him over the bridge.

It would be difficult to say who was first, for Henri, Adolphe, and nearly a dozen others, galloped across the bridge together, and the whole troop followed them pell-mell into the town. The two cannons were soon taken; the irresolute blues, who, with only half a heart, had attempted to defend themselves, were driven from their positions, and Henri at once found himself master of the place.

A few of his gallant followers had fallen on the bridge. It could not be expected but what this should be the case, for they made their attack in the face of two field-pieces and a discharge of musketry, from a body of men quite as numerous as their own; but Henri had not perceived till he reached the square in the middle of the town, that Adolphe Denot was no longer by his side.

“Did you see M. Denot?” said he to a soldier, who was now standing on the ground at his horse’s head.

“You mean the gentleman who was riding with you all the day, General—he who had lost his cap?”

“Yes, yes, did you see him? he passed over the bridge with me.”

“General,” said the man, “he never passed the bridge. He fell on the very centre of it. I saw him fall, and his horse galloped into the town without a rider.”

Arthur Mondyon soon brought him confirmation of the news. He had been struck by a musket ball on the breast, while they were crossing the bridge, and the whole troop of horsemen, who were behind, had passed over his body. He had, however, been taken up, and brought into the town; whether or no his life was extinct, Arthur could not say, but he had been told that the wound would certainly prove mortal.