in itself, been a great misfortune;
but the Vendeans had suffered no more heavily than the enemy and,
had Cathelineau been but spared, matters might still have gone well
with them. The effect of his death, however, was for the time to
dishearten the peasantry utterly; and had at this time terms of
peace, which would have permitted them to enjoy the exercise of
their religion, and to be free from conscription, been offered to
them, they would gladly have been accepted.

Charette, after he saw that the attack upon Nantes from the north
side of the river had failed, fell back with his force, as before,
into Lower Poitou. The Vendeans, now under Bonchamp, who had also
been wounded, retired along the north bank of the Loire, crossing
the river at various points as they could find boats.

Before joining in the fight, Leigh had told his band that, in the
event of failure, he should recross the river in the boat that had
brought them over. They had all kept near him during the struggle.
Eight of them had fallen, several others were wounded, and he
himself had received a musket ball in the shoulder. As soon as he
saw that the battle was lost, he withdrew from it and made his way
with the boys to the river bank; recrossed the stream, and struck
across the country. After proceeding some six miles they entered a
wood, and lay down and slept for some hours, and then marched to
Parthenay.

Here the band broke up and proceeded to their homes; while Leigh
made his way to Lescure's headquarters, learned where his friends
were lodged, and joined them.

Patsey gave a cry of alarm as he entered. Fugitives had arrived
before him, and it was already known that the attack on Nantes had
failed, and that Cathelineau was mortally wounded.

"What is it, Leigh?"

"I am wounded in the shoulder. It is nothing very serious, I think;
though I suppose I sha'n't be able to hold a sword for some time."

A surgeon was soon fetched, the ball extracted, and the wound
bandaged; and they then sat down to talk over the events that had
occurred. Since they had been separated, Monsieur Martin had become
a broken man. The fact that his son, who assuredly had it in his
power to protect him, had given him over to the terrible tribunal,
had been a harder blow to him than the prospect of death; and even
the devotion that had been shown by Jean scarcely sufficed to
comfort him.

Patsey was pale and thin. Her imprisonment had told upon her and,
still more,