“Citizen General,” he said gracefully, “we come and pay our respec's to you and mek our report, and ver' happy to see you look well. Citoyens, Vive la République!—Hail to the Citizen General!”
“Vive la République! Vive le Général!” cried the three citizens behind him.
“Citizens, you are very welcome,” answered the General, gravely, as he descended the steps and took each of them by the hand. “Citizens, allow me to introduce to you my old friend, Citizen David Ritchie—”
“Milles diables!” cried the Citizen St. Gré, seizing me by the hand, “c'est mon cher ami, Monsieur Reetchie. Ver' happy you have this honor, Monsieur;” and snatching his wide-brimmed military cocked hat from his head he made me a smiling, sweeping bow.
“What!” cried the General to me, “you know the Sieur de St. Gré, Davy?”
“He is my guest once in Louisiane, mon général,” Monsieur Auguste explained; “my family knows him.”
“You know the Sieur de St. Gré, Davy?” said the General again.
“Yes, I know him,” I answered, I fear with some brevity.
“Podden me,” said Auguste, “I am now Citizen Captain de St. Gré. And you are also embark in the glorious cause—Ah, I am happy,” he added, embracing me with a winning glance.
I was relieved from the embarrassment of denying the impeachment by reason of being introduced to the other notables, to Citizen Captain Sullivan, who wore an undress uniform consisting of a cotton butternut hunting shirt. He had charge on the Bear Grass of building the boats for the expedition, and was likewise a prominent member of that august body, the Jacobin Society of Lexington. Next came Citizen Quartermaster Depeau, now of Knob Licks, Kentucky, sometime of New Orleans. The Citizen Quartermaster wore his hair long in the backwoods fashion; he had a keen, pale face and sunken eyes.