Chupin tore his hair. “They are on the way,” he repeated. “The peasants—all the peasants of the district, they intend to take possession of Montaignac, dethrone Louis XVIII., bring back the emperor, or at least, the emperor’s son, and crown him as Napoleon II. Ah, the wretches! they have deceived me. I suspected this outbreak, but I did not think it was so near at hand.”
This unexpected intelligence well-nigh stupefied the duke. “How many are there?” he asked.
“Ah! how do I know, your grace? Two thousand, perhaps—perhaps ten thousand.”
“All the town’s people are with us.”
“No, your grace, no. The rebels have accomplices here. All the retired officers of the imperial army are waiting to assist them.”
“Who are the leaders of the movement?”
“Lacheneur, the Abbe Midon, Chanlouineau, the Baron d’Escorval——”
“Enough!” cried the duke.
Now that the danger was certain, his coolness returned, and his herculean form, a trifle bowed by the weight of years, rose to its full height. He gave the bell-rope a violent pull; and directly his valet entered, he bade him bring his uniform and pistols at once. The servant was about to obey, when the duke added: “Wait! Let some one take a horse, and go and tell my son to come here without a moment’s delay. Take one of the swiftest horses. The messenger ought to go to Sairmeuse and back in two hours.” On hearing these words, Chupin pulled at the duke’s coat tail to attract his attention.
“Well, what is it now?” asked M. de Sairmeuse impatiently.