he showed the young man a large map of Piedmont stretched out on the
floor, under a lamp suspended from the ceiling.

"Yes, I see it," replied Roland, accustomed to follow the general along
the unexpected dashes of his genius; "but it is a map of Piedmont."

"Yes, it's a map of Piedmont."

"So there is still a question of Italy?"

"There is always a question of Italy."

"I thought you spoke of the Vendee?"

"Secondarily."

"Why, general, you are not going to send me to the Vendee and go
yourself to Italy, are you?"

"No; don't be alarmed."

"All right; but I warn you, if you did, I should desert and join you."

"I give you permission to do so; but now let us go back to Melas."

"Excuse me, general; this is the first time you have mentioned him."

"Yes; but I have been thinking of him for a long time. Do you know where
I shall defeat him?"

"The deuce! I do."

"Where?"

"Wherever you meet him."

Bonaparte laughed.

"Ninny!" he said, with loving familiarity. Then, stooping over the map,
he said to Roland, "Come here."

Roland stooped beside him. "There," resumed Bonaparte; "that is where I
shall fight him."

"Near Alessandria?"

"Within eight or nine miles of it. He has all his supplies, hospitals,
artillery and reserves in Alessandria; and he will not leave the
neighborhood. I shall have to strike a great blow; that's the only
condition on which I can get peace. I shall cross the Alps"--he pointed
to the great Saint-Bernard--"I shall fall upon Melas when he least
expects me, and rout him utterly."

"Oh! trust you for that!"

"Yes; but you understand, Roland, that in order to quit France with an
easy mind, I can't leave it with an inflammation of the bowels--I can't
leave war in the Vendee."

"Ah! now I see what you are after. No Vendee! And you are sending me to
the Vendee to suppress it."

"That young man told me some serious things about the Vendee. They
are brave soldiers, those Vendeans, led by a man of brains, Georges
Cadoudal. I have sent him the offer of a regiment, but he won't accept."

"Jove! He's particular."

"But there's one thing he little knows."

"Who, Cadoudal?"

"Yes, Cadoudal. That is that the Abbe Bernier has made me overtures."

"The Abbe Bernier?"

"Yes."

"Who is the Abbe Bernier?"

"The son of a peasant from Anjou, who may be now about thirty-three or
four years of age. Before the insurrection he was curate of Saint-Laud
at Angers. He refused to take t