The rumour of what had been done at St. Florent, was also soon known in Coron, in Torfou, and in Clisson. The battle was fought on Thursday, and early on Saturday morning, M. de Lescure had heard some indistinct rumour of the occurrence; indistinct at least it seemed to him, for he could not believe that the success of the townspeople was so complete, as it was represented to him to be; he heard at the same time that the revolt had been headed by Cathelineau and Foret, and that as soon as the battle was over, they had started for Durbellière to engage the assistance of Henri Larochejaquelin. De Lescure, therefore, determined to go at once to Durbellière; and Adolphe Denot, who was with him, accompanied him.
They found Henri in the midst of his preparations, weighing out gunpowder with the assistance of the priest and the two girls. There was a large quarry on the Marquis’ estate, and a considerable supply of gunpowder for blasting had been lately brought to Durbellière from Nantes, as it could not be purchased in the neighbouring towns. As the priest remarked, blasting powder was not the best, but it was good enough to treat republicans with—at any rate they could get no better, and it was lucky that they chanced to have that.
Charles de Lescure shuddered as he saw the dangerous employment on which his sister was engaged; but Henri’s sister was doing the same thing, and he knew that dangerous times for all of them were coming. Adolphe was disgusted that Agatha’s white hands should be employed in so vile a service, but he thought little of the danger to which she was exposed.
“You are well employed, ladies,” said de Lescure, “but not an hour too soon. I am rejoiced to see you so well supplied, Henri; this is indeed a Godsend. Father Jerome, is this strictly canonical; gunpowder I fear is altogether a temporal affair.”
“But rebellion and hell-fire are synonymous,” said the priest, “and loyalty is the road to Paradise. I am strictly within my calling, M. de Lescure. Mademoiselle, these packets are too large. You are giving too good measure. Remember how many are the claimants for our bounty.”
“You have, of course, all heard what occurred at St. Florent the day before yesterday,” said de Lescure.
“Not a word,” said Henri. “What happened there? we hear nothing here till a week after it is known in the towns.”
They all left off what they were doing, and listened anxiously for M. de Lescure’s tidings. “Good news, I trust,” said the Curé, whose face showed a fearful degree of anxiety. “Good news, I trust in God; the men of St. Florent, I am sure, have not disgraced themselves.”
“Indeed, they have not, Father Jerome. If the half of what I hear be true, they have already played a grand part. What I hear is this—not a conscript was to be seen at the barracks when they were summoned. Three or four soldiers were sent to commence the collection in the town, and they were at once taken prisoners by a party headed by Cathelineau, the postillion. The Colonel then turned out, and fired on the crowd; but he could not stand his ground before the people, who drove him back to the barracks; half his men were killed in retreating. The people then attacked the barracks, and regularly carried them by storm; took the cannon which was with the detachment, and made prisoners of every soldier that was not killed in the fray. If the half of it be true, St. Florent has made a fine beginning for us.”
“Glorious fellows!” said Adolphe. “What would I not give to have been with them?”