oops for an engagement as well as very experienced
officers could do. It is a piece of luck if I get such a man away from
them."

Cavalier's fellows began to escape from his sway. They had hoped, for a
while, that they would get back that liberty for which they had shed
their blood. "They are permitted to have public prayer and chant their
psalms. No sooner was that known all round," writes Villars, "than
behold my madmen rushing up from burghs and castles in the neighborhood,
not to surrender, but to chant with the rest. The gates were closed;
they leap the walls and force the guards. It is published abroad that I
have indefinitely granted free exercise of the religion." The bishops
let the marshal be.

"Stuff we our ears," said the Bishop of Narbonne, "and make we an end."
The Camisards refused to listen to Cavalier.

"Thou'rt mad," said Roland; "thou bast betrayed thy brethren; thou
shouldst die of shame. Go tell the marshal that I am resolved to remain
sword in hand until the entire and complete restoration of the Edict of
Nantes!" The Cevenols thought themselves certain of aid from England;
only a handful followed Cavalier, who remained faithful to his
engagements. He was ordered with his troop to Elsass; he slipped away
from his watchers and threw himself into Switzerland. At the head of a
regiment of refugees he served successively the Duke of Savoy, the
States-General, and England; he died at Chelsea in 1740, the only one
amongst the Camisards to leave a name in the world.

[Illustration: Death of Roland the Camisard----569]

The insurrection still went on in Languedoc under the orders of Roland,
who was more fanatical and more disinterested than Cavalier; he was
betrayed and surrounded in the castle of Castelnau on the 16th of August,
1704. Roland just had time to leap out of bed and mount his horse; he
was taking to flight with his men by a back door when a detachment of
dragoons came up with him; the Camisard chief put his back against an old
olive and sold his life dearly. When he fell, his lieutenants let
themselves be taken "like lambs" beside his corpse. "They were destined
to serve as examples," writes Villars, "but the manner in which they met
death was more calculated to confirm their religious spirit in these
wrong heads than to destroy it. Lieutenant Maille was a fine young man
of wits above the common. He heard his sentence with a smile, passed
through the town of Nimes with the