cowardice and all the heroism displayed on that terrible night
will never be really known.

Two minutes after the departure of Marie-Anne and of Maurice,
Chanlouineau was still battling with the foe.

A dozen or more soldiers were in front of him. Twenty shots had been
fired, but not a ball had struck him. His enemies always believed him
invulnerable.

"Surrender!" cried the soldiers, amazed by such valor; "surrender!"

"Never! never!"

He was truly formidable; he brought to the support of his marvellous
courage a superhuman strength and agility. No one dared come within
reach of those brawny arms that revolved with the power and velocity of
the sails of a wind-mill.

Then it was that a soldier, confiding his musket to the care of a
companion, threw himself flat upon his belly, and crawling unobserved
around behind this obscure hero, seized him by the legs. He tottered
like an oak beneath the blow of the axe, struggled furiously, but taken
at such a disadvantage was thrown to the ground, crying, as he fell:

"Help! friends, help!"

But no one responded to this appeal.

At the other end of the open space those upon whom he called had, after
a desperate struggle, yielded.

The main body of the duke's infantry was near at hand.

The rebels heard the drums beating the charge; they could see the
bayonets gleaming in the sunlight.

Lacheneur, who had remained in the same spot, utterly ignoring the shot
that whistled around him, felt that his few remaining comrades were
about to be exterminated.

In that supreme moment the whole past was revealed to him as by a flash
of lightning. He read and judged his own heart. Hatred had led him to
crime. He loathed himself for the humiliation which he had imposed
upon his daughter. He cursed himself for the falsehoods by which he had
deceived these brave men, for whose death he would be accountable.

Enough blood had flowed; he must save those who remained.

"Cease firing, my friends," he commanded; "retreat!"

They obeyed--he could see them scatter in every direction.

He too could flee; was he not mounted upon a gallant steed which would
bear him beyond the reach of the enemy?

But he had sworn that he would not survive defeat. Maddened with
remorse, despair, sorrow, and impotent rage, he saw no refuge save in
death.

He had only to wait for it; it was fast approaching; he preferred to
rush to meet it. Gathering up the reins, he dashed the rowels in his
steed a