pon Roland, entangled under the body of his horse. The young
man dropped his sword and tried to seize his pistols, but before he
could lay hand upon the holsters two men had him by the arms, while the
four others dragged his horse from between his legs. The thing was
done with such unanimity that it was easy to see the manoeuvre had been
planned.

Roland roared with rage. Branche-d'Or came up to him and put his hat in
his hand.

"I do not surrender!" shouted Roland.

"Useless to do so, Monsieur de Montrevel," replied Branche-d'Or with the
utmost politeness.

"What do you mean?" demanded Roland, exhausting his strength in a
struggle as desperate as it was useless.

"Because you are captured, sir."

It was so true that there could be no answer.

"Then kill me!" cried Roland.

"We don't want to kill you, sir," replied Branche-d'Or.

"Then what do you want?"

"Give us your parole not to fight any more, and you are free."

"Never!" exclaimed Roland.

"Excuse me, Monsieur de Montrevel," said Branche-d'Or, "but that is not
loyal!"

"What!" shrieked Roland, in a fury, "not loyal! You insult me, villain,
because you know I can't defend myself or punish you."

"I am not a villain, and I didn't insult you, Monsieur de Montrevel; but
I do say that by not giving your word, you deprive the general of nine
men, who might be useful to him and who are obliged to stay here to
guard you. That's not the way the Big Round Head acted toward you. He
had two hundred men more than you, and he sent them away. Now we are
only eighty-nine against one hundred."

A flame crossed Roland's face; then almost as suddenly he turned pale as
death.

"You are right, Branche-d'Or," he replied. "Succor or no succor, I
surrender. You and your men can go and fight with your comrades."

The Chouans gave a cry of joy, let go their hold of Roland, and
rushed toward the Republicans, brandishing their hats and muskets, and
shouting: "Vive le roi!"

Roland, freed from their grip, but disarmed physically by his fall,
morally by his parole, went to the little eminence, still covered by
the cloak which had served as a tablecloth for their breakfast, and sat
down. From there he could see the whole combat; not a detail was lost
upon him.

Cadoudal sat erect upon his horse amid fire and smoke, like the Demon of
War, invulnerable and implacable.

Here and there the bodies of a dozen or more Chouans lay stretched upon
the sod. But it was evident t