"You know, of course, Charles, that 'M. Alexis,' the leader of the Carhoët division, was killed the other day while I was away?"
"Yes, Monsieur Augustin."
"He seems to have been killed by treachery," said La Vireville, referring to the letter in his hand, "at a farm near Lanrivain. Let me see, where is that exactly?" He searched on the map lying beside him.
"Grain d'Orge knows that neighbourhood well," suggested his lieutenant.
"Yes, of course he does," assented the émigré, relinquishing the search. "I will ask him in a moment, since I shall have further need of his topographical knowledge. For there is another matter in this letter of M. du Boishardy's. He wishes me to take over the command of the Carhoët division, now vacant through 'M. Alexis' death."
Now M. du Boishardy commanded the whole department of the Côtes-du-Nord for the King, and La Vireville was consequently more or less under his orders. The young Breton's face fell.
"And leave us?" he exclaimed.
"No, no! M. du Boishardy wishes me to combine the two if possible. I should have to appoint a subordinate in any case. The pressing need, however, seems to be that I should go over there in person as soon as possible, for it appears that they are all at sixes and sevens since their leader's death. I must proceed to Carhoët directly I return from Jersey—for to Jersey I must go, to see the Prince de Bouillon, even if I had not the infant there to convoy into British hands. The best plan, I take it, would be to sail direct from Jersey to that part of the coast, if it is possible to land there. Grain d'Orge!"
In front of that warrior, fingering his musket with one hand, was now standing Anne-Hilarion, who had abandoned his primrose-plucking, though still retaining his spoil. The old Chouan's French was very limited, for which reason conversation with him, for those ignorant of Breton, was difficult; but he and the Comte de Flavigny did appear to be holding discourse of some kind. La Vireville's summons brought not only him but Anne and his flowers also.
"Thank you, my child," said La Vireville, accepting the hot nosegay. "Now you can go back and pick some for Grain d'Orge."