If the young man was not allowed to speak his thanks, he could look them, there on the sandy beach amid the excited throng, the east on fire with the coming day, and his friend's hand in his. "I was to tell you, if I had the chance to meet you, that he had got a new goldfish in place of the one he left at Canterbury, and that he hopes to show it to you—some day."
La Vireville smiled. "He shall bring it to France."
"And show it to the little King at Versailles," interposed de Flavigny, "when we have put him into his own again!"
All the amusement died out of the Chouan's face. "You have not heard then?"
"What!" asked Rene in alarm.
La Vireville took off his shabby, wide-brimmed hat. "Louis XVII. is dead . . . he died before you sailed, on the eighth of June. I have not long known it—my men do not know it yet. The Comte de Provence will have to be proclaimed here. The Bretons, who know nothing of him, will probably murmur. That poor child was often spoken of amongst them, whereas the Regent—Bon Dieu, what is happening!"
They both turned. At a little distance, where the new muskets were being distributed to the Chouans, a sergeant of d'Hervilly's regiment was having an argument of more than words with two or three Bretons who had evidently precipitated themselves on to these new possessions more quickly than he liked. Into the disturbance there now entered a Chouan of Herculean proportions, presumably a leader, who, seconded in his efforts by a young man of twenty with the face of a girl, began driving off the excited gars with the butt-end of a musket.
"That is Georges Cadoudal and his friend Mercier la Vendée," observed La Vireville. "Those must be his own Morbihannais that he is disciplining!"
He looked on rather amused, but suddenly his face clouded. The Comte d'Hervilly had unfortunately hurried to the scene, and began to rate the two Chouan leaders in no measured terms. The gigantic Cadoudal—brutal, adored, and bravest of the brave—restrained himself with evident difficulty, and finally went off, the little figure of d'Hervilly following him with gesticulations. Meanwhile, amid shouts of laughter, the sergeant and the too impetuous Bretons were suddenly reconciled.
La Vireville shrugged his shoulders.