ling of twigs on the bushes, and the sound of steps among the
underbrush, was heard. Then all was silent.

"Well," asked Cadoudal, "do you think that with such men I have anything
to fear from the Blues, brave as they may be?"

Roland heaved a sigh; he was of Cadoudal's opinion.

They rode on. About three miles from Trinite they caught sight of a
black spot approaching along the road with great rapidity. As it became
more distinct this spot stopped suddenly.

"What is that?" asked Roland.

"As you see, a man," replied Cadoudal.

"Of course; but who is this man?"

"You might have guessed from the rapidity of his coming; he is a
messenger."

"Why does he stop?"

"Because he has seen us, and does not know whether to advance or
retreat."

"What will he do?"

"Wait before deciding."

"For what?"

"A signal."

"Will he answer the signal?"

"He will not only answer but obey it. Will you have him advance or
retreat; or will you have him step aside."

"I wish him to advance; by that means we shall know the news he brings."

Cadoudal gave the call of the cuckoo with such perfection that Roland
looked about him for the bird.

"It was I," said Cadoudal, "you need not look for it."

"Is the messenger going to come?"

"Not-going to, he is coming."

The messenger had already started, and was rapidly approaching; in a few
seconds he was beside his general.

"Ah!" said the latter, "is that you, Monte-a-l'assaut?"

The general stooped, and Monte-a-l'assaut said a few words in his ear.

"Benedicite has already warned me," said Georges. Then turning to
Roland, he said, "Something of importance is to happen in the village of
the Trinite in a quarter of an hour, which you ought to see. Come, hurry
up."

And, setting the example, he put his horse to a gallop. Roland did the
same.

When they reached the village they could see from a distance, by the
light of some pine torches, a tumultuous mob in the market square. The
cries and movements of this mob bespoke some grave occurrence.

"Fast, fast!" cried Cadoudal.

Roland asked no better; he dug his spurs in his horse's belly.

At the clatter of horses' hoofs the peasants scattered. There were five
or six hundred of them at least, all armed.

Cadoudal and Roland found themselves in a circle of light in the midst
of cries and agitation.

The crowd was pressing more particularly toward the opening of a street
which led to the village of Tridon. A diligence