Seeing his chief's attitude, Grain d'Orge, looking more than ever ruffianly by reason of the filthy rag round his head, rose from the ground and softly approached him.
"Monsieur Augustin is not wounded?"
"Si," retorted La Vireville without moving. "In my pride."
An uncomfortable silence. Grain d'Orge rubbed his bristly chin.
"If only the general had helped us a little," he grumbled. "If some of those fine uniforms we saw at Carnac——"
"If only we had had a gun——" said another.
"Perhaps if we had prayed more to Ste. Anne," suggested a third, thinking of the famous shrine of that saint so dear to all Bretons, just outside Auray.
La Vireville heard the last remark. He lifted his head.
"On the contrary," he observed bitingly, "I should recommend a little less rosary and a little more attention to simple military duties. Where is the sentry I posted by that hedge a short time ago?—Tudieu, this is a shooting matter!"
Springing to his feet, he went over to the hedge in question, where indeed no sentry was visible. But he was there for all that . . . only the shooting seemed to have been done already.