“Well done!” cried Coupiau from his wooden perch, pointing to the man in the goatskin; “you must have scented this patriot who has lots of gold in his pouch—”
The Chouans greeted these words with roars of laughter, crying out: “Pille-Miche! hey, Pille-Miche! Pille-Miche!”
Amid the laughter, to which Pille-Miche responded like an echo, Coupiau came down from his seat quite crestfallen. When the famous Cibot, otherwise called Pille-Miche, helped his neighbor to get out of the coach, a respectful murmur was heard among the Chouans.
“It is the Abbe Gudin!” cried several voices. At this respected name every hat was off, and the men knelt down before the priest as they asked his blessing, which he gave solemnly.
“Pille-Miche here could trick Saint Peter and steal the keys of Paradise,” said the rector, slapping that worthy on the shoulder. “If it hadn’t been for him, the Blues would have intercepted us.”
Then, noticing the lady, the abbe went to speak to her apart. Marche-a-Terre, who had meantime briskly opened the boot of the cabriolet, held up to his comrades, with savage joy, a bag, the shape of which betrayed its contents to be rolls of coin. It did not take long to divide the booty. Each Chouan received his share, so carefully apportioned that the division was made without the slightest dispute. Then Marche-a-Terre went to the lady and the priest, and offered them each about six thousand francs.
“Can I conscientiously accept this money, Monsieur Gudin?” said the lady, feeling a need of justification.
“Why not, madame? In former days the Church approved of the confiscation of the property of Protestants, and there’s far more reason for confiscating that of these revolutionists, who deny God, destroy chapels, and persecute religion.”
The abbe then joined example to precept by accepting, without the slightest scruple, the novel sort of tithe which Marche-a-Terre offered to him. “Besides,” he added, “I can now devote all I possess to the service of God and the king; for my nephew has joined the Blues, and I disinherit him.”
Coupiau was bemoaning himself and declaring that he was ruined.