"The officer," replied Sir Thomas Cecil, "was raised to the rank of major-general for the purpose, and is, I understand, an old friend of yours, the Chevalier d'Evran."
The Count suddenly pulled up his horse, and gazed, for a moment, in the old man's face. "Then," said he, "the Protestant cause is ruined.--It is not solely on account of Louis d'Evran's skill," he added, "that I say so: though if ever any one was made for a great commander he is that man; but he is mild and moderate, conciliating and good-humoured; and I have remarked that a little sort of fondness for mystery which he affects,--concealing all things that he intends in a sort of dark cloud, till it flashes forth like lightning,--has a very powerful effect upon all minds that are not of the first order. The only bond that has kept the Protestants together has been sharp and bitter persecution lately endured. If any one equally gentle and firm, powerful and yet conciliating, appears against us, I shall not have five hundred men left in two days."
"And perhaps, Count," said the old man, "not very sorry for it?"
The Count turned his eyes upon him, and looked steadily in his face for a moment. "That, I think," he said, "is hardly a fair question, my good friend. I believe you, Sir, from all I have seen of you, to be an upright and honourable man, and I have looked upon you as a sincere Protestant, and one suffering, in some degree, from your attachment to that faith. I take it for granted, then, that nothing which I have said to you this day is to be repeated."
"Nothing, upon my honour," replied Sir Thomas Cecil, frankly. "You are quite right in your estimation of me, I assure you. If I ask any question, it is for my own satisfaction, and because, Sir, I take an interest in you. Nothing that passes your lips shall be repeated by me without your permission; though I tell you fairly, and at once, that I am going very soon to the head quarters of the Chevalier d'Evran, to fulfil a mission to him, which will be unsuccessful I know, but which must still be fulfilled. Will you trust me so far as this, Count? Will you let me know whether you really wish this state of insurrection to go on; or would not rather, if mild--I will not call them equitable--terms could be obtained for the Protestants of this district, that peace should be restored and a hopeless struggle ended? I do not say hopeless," he continued, "at all to disparage you efforts; but----"
"My dear Sir," replied the Count, "act as bluntly by me as you did in the Bastille, call the struggle hopeless if you will. There are not ten men in my little force who do not know it to be hopeless, and those ten are fools. The only choice left, Sir, to the Protestants of this district when I arrived here was between timid despair and courageous despair; to die by the slow fire of persecution without resistance, or to die with swords in our hands in a good cause. We chose the latter, which afforded, indeed, the only hope of wringing toleration from our enemies by a vigorous effort. But I am as well aware as you are that we have no power sufficient to resist the power of the crown; that in the mountains, woods, and fastnesses of this district and of Brittany, upon which I am now retreating, I might, perhaps, frustrate the pursuit of the royal forces, for months, nay, for years; living, for weeks, as a chief of banditti, and only appearing for a single day, from time to time, as the general of an army. Day by day my followers would decrease; for the scissars of inconvenience often shear down the forces of an insurgent leader more fatally than the sharp sword of war. Then, a thousand to one, no means that I could take would prevent all my people from committing evil acts. I, and a just and holy cause, would acquire a bad name, and the whole would end by the worst of my people betraying me to death upon the scaffold. All this, Sir, was considered before I drew the sword; but you must remember that I had not the slightest idea whatsoever that the King had shown any disposition to treat me personally with any thing but bitter severity.--To return to your former question, then, and to answer it candidly and straight-forwardly, but merely remember between you and I, I should not grieve on such reasonable terms being granted to the generality of Protestants as would enable them to live peacefully, adhering to their own religion, though it be in private; to see my men reduced, as I have said, to five hundred, ay, or to one hundred: provided those gallant men, who, with firm determination, adhere to the faith of their fathers, and are resolved neither to conceal that faith nor submit to its oppression, have the means of seeking liberty of conscience in another land. As for myself," he continued, with a deep sigh, "my mind is at present in such a state that I should little care, if once I saw this settled, to go to-morrow and lay my head at the foot of the King's throne. Abjure my religion I never will; live in a land where it is persecuted I never will; but life has lately become a load to me, and it were as well for all, under such circumstances, that it were terminated. This latter part of what I have said, Sir, you may tell the Chevalier d'Evran: namely that, on the Government granting such terms to the Protestants of this district as will insure the two objects I have mentioned, the Count of Morseiul is willing to surrender himself to the pleasure of the King; though, till such terms are granted, and my people so secured, nothing shall induce me to sheath the sword:--and yet I acknowledge that I am bitterly grieved and mortified that this error has taken place in regard to the order for my liberation, and that thus an imputation of ingratitude has been brought upon me which I do not deserve."
The old officer held out his hand to him, and shook that of the Count heartily, adding with a somewhat profane oath, which characterises the English nation, "Sir, you deserve your reputation!"
He went on a minute or two afterwards to say, "I have been accustomed, in some degree, to such transactions; and I will report your words and nothing more: but, by your leave, I think you had better alter the latter part, and stipulate that you shall be allowed yourself to emigrate with a certain number of your followers. Louvois is extremely anxious to keep from the King's ears the extent of this insurrection, having always persuaded him that there would be none. He will, therefore, be extremely glad to have it put down without more noise on easy terms, and doubtless he has given the Chevalier d'Evran instructions to that effect."
"No, no," replied the Count; "I must endeavour, Sir, to wipe away the stain that has been cast upon me. Do you propose to go to the Chevalier's head quarters at once?"
"Not exactly," replied the old Englishman. "I am first going to Thouars, having some business with the Duc de Rouvré."