The Irishman as a bearer of despatches from Governor Trumbull was not without importance.
Dennis lingered to rest by the marquees of the officers under the moon and stars. He listened for words of hope. One night Lafayette talked. He engaged all ears.
“I was born at Auvergne, in the mountain district of France,” said he, “and the soldiers of Auvergne are sons of liberty. They are mountaineers. I would that I could induce France to send an army of those mountaineers to America. They are rugged men; they believe in justice, and equal rights, and equal laws, and for this cause they are willing to die. They have a grand motto, to which they have always been true. It is ‘Auvergne sans tache’—Auvergne without a stain. I love a soldier of Auvergne, a mountaineer of the glorious air in which I was born.”
His mind seemed to wander back to the past.
“‘Auvergne sans tache,’” said he. “‘Auvergne sans tache’—these words command me, they have entered into my soul. Would these men were here, and that I could lead them to victory!”
Dennis caught the atmosphere.
“And sure, your Honor, people find what they seek, and all good dreams come true sometime, and you will bring them here some day. I seem to feel it in my soul.”
The officers shouted.
“And it is from Connecticut I am.”