“Do not say so, M. Larochejaquelin,” said the priest, “do not say so; we will do greater things than that with the assistance of God and the blessed Virgin; but we will not envy the men of St. Florent the honour they have won.”
“You believe it all, then, Father Jerome,” said Marie. “You believe that the republicans have been beaten.”
“Every word, Mademoiselle, every word religiously. I should be a heathen else, or worse than that, a republican.”
The group who were discussing the probability of the victory said to have been gained at St. Florent, were standing at the window of one of the front rooms of the château, which looked immediately on one of the whitewashed recumbent lions, and from it they could see the wooden gates, the lodge, and the paved road which ran from Chatillon to Vihiers in front of the château. As the priest finished speaking, three men rode through the gates, into the avenue, directly up to the house-door: one was tolerably well mounted on a large horse, the second was on a shaggy pony, and the third, who was rather behind the others, was seated on a mule of most unprepossessing appearance, whose sides he did not for a moment cease to lacerate with his heels, to enable himself to keep up with his companions.
“That is Foret, from St. Florent himself!” shouted the priest, rushing out towards the door, as soon as he saw the first horseman turn in at the gate; “a good man, and true as any living, and one who hates a skulking republican as he does the devil.”
“And that is the postillion himself, on the pony!” shouted Henri, running after him. “I could swear to him, by his hat, among a thousand.”
“Who is the man on the mule, Adolphe?” said de Lescure, remaining at the window. “By the bye,” he added, turning to the two girls who remained with him, and who were trembling in every joint, at they knew not what, “I forgot, in my hurry, or rather I hadn’t time as yet to tell Henri that I had heard that these men were coming here.”
“Are those the very men who gained the victory at St. Florent?” asked Marie.
“So we heard,” replied de Lescure, “and now, and not till now, I believe it; their coming here is strong confirmation; the Curé is right, it seems.”
“And is that man the good postillion of whom the people talk?”