It was half-past one in the morning—the place was deserted.
Nothing disturbed the silence save the moans of a few wounded men, who called upon their comrades for succor.
But before thinking of the wounded, M. de Sairmeuse must decide upon the course which would be most likely to redound to his advantage and to his political glory.
Now that the insurrection had been suppressed, it was necessary to exaggerate its magnitude as much as possible, in order that his reward should be in proportion to the service supposed to have been rendered.
Some fifteen or twenty rebels had been captured; but that was not a sufficient number to give the victory the eclat which he desired. He must find more culprits to drag before the provost-marshal or before a military commission.
He, therefore, divided his troops into several detachments, and sent them in every direction with orders to explore the villages, search all isolated houses, and arrest all suspected persons.
His task here having been completed, he again recommended the most implacable severity, and started on a brisk trot for Montaignac.
He was delighted; certainly he blessed—as had M. de Courtornieu—these honest and artless conspirators; but one fear, which he vainly tried to dismiss, impaired his satisfaction.
His son, the Marquis de Sairmeuse, was he, or was he not, implicated in this conspiracy?
He could not, he would not, believe it; and yet the recollection of Chupin’s assurance troubled him.