The army fought with an empty stomach, bare back, and bleeding feet, and Dangeau found enough work to his hand to occupy the energies of ten men. The commissariat was disgraceful, supplies scant, and the men lacking of every necessary. Having made inquiries, he turned back to France, and ranged the South like a flame, gathering stores, ammunition, arms, shoes—everything, in fact, of which that famished but indomitable army stood in such dire need. Summary enough the methods of those days, and Dangeau’s way was as short a one as most, and more successful than many. He would ride into a town, establish himself at the inn, and send for the Mayor, who, according as his nature were bold or timid, came blustering or trembling. France had no king, but the tricoloured feathers on her Commissioner’s hat were a sign of power quite as autocratic as the obsolete fleur-de-lys. Dangeau sat at a table spread with papers, wrote on for a space, and then— "Citizen Mayor, I require, on behalf of the National Army, five hundred (or it might be a thousand) pairs of boots, so many beds, such and such provisions." "But, Citizen Commissioner, we have them not." Dangeau consulted a notebook. "I can give you twenty-four hours to produce them, not more." "But, Citizen, these are impossibilities. We cannot produce what we have not got." "And neither can our armies save your throats from being cut if they are unprovided. Twenty-four hours, Citizen Mayor." According to his nature, the Mayor swore or cringed. "It is impossible." Dangeau drew out a list. The principal towns of the South figured on it legibly. Setting a thick mark against one name, he fixed his eyes upon the man before him. "Have you considered, Citizen," he said sternly, "that what is grudged to France will be taken by Spain? Also, it were wiser to yield to my demands than to those of such an embassy as the Republic sent to Lyons. My report goes in to-night." "Your report?" "Non-compliance with requisitions is to be reported to the Convention without delay. I have my orders, and you, Citizen Mayor, have yours." "But, Citizen, where am I to get the things?" Dangeau shrugged his shoulders. "Is it my business? But I see you wear an excellent pair of shoes, I see well-shod citizens in your streets—you neither starve nor lie on the ground. Our soldiers do both. If any must go without, let it be the idle. Twenty-four hours, Citizen Mayor." And in twenty-four hours boots, beds, and provisions were forthcoming. Lyons had not been rased for nothing, and with the smell of her burning yet upon the air, the shriek of her victims still in the wintry wind, no town had the courage to refuse what was asked for. Protestingly they gave; the army was provided, and Dangeau, shutting his ears to Paris and her madness, pressed forward with it into Spain. CHAPTER XXIII RETURN OF TWO FUGITIVES "Aline, dear child!" "Yes, dear aunt."