Such moderation did not, however, suit a man of the duke’s violent nature. Struggle and excitement were his elements, and ambition fanned his zeal. He ordered the gates of the citadel to be left open, and concealed numerous soldiers behind the parapets of the outer fortifications. He then stationed himself where he could command a view of the insurgents’ approach, and deliberately choose his moment for giving the signal to fire. Still a strange thing happened. Out of four hundred shots fired into a dense mass of fifteen hundred men, only three hit their mark. More humane than their commander, nearly all the soldiers had fired into the air. However, the duke had no time to investigate this strange occurrence now. He leaped into the saddle, and placing himself at the head of several hundred men, both cavalry and infantry, he started in pursuit of the fugitives. The peasants were, perhaps, some twenty minutes in advance. These simple minded fellows might easily have made their escape. They had only to disperse in twenty different directions; but unfortunately, this thought never once occurred to the majority of them. A few ran across the fields and then gained their homes in safety; while the others fled panic stricken, like a flock of frightened sheep before the pursuing soldiers. Fear lent them wings, for at each moment they could hear the shots fired at the laggards. There was one man, however, who was still steady galloping in the direction of Montaignac; and this was Lacheneur. He had just reached the Croix d’Arcy when the firing began. He listened and waited. No discharge of musketry answered the first fusillade. What could be happening? Plainly there was no combat. Had the peasantry been butchered then? Lacheneur had a perception of the truth, and regretted that the bullets just discharged had not pierced his own heart. He put spurs to his horse and galloped past the cross-roads towards Montaignac. At last he perceived the fugitives approaching in the distance. He dashed forward to meet them, and mingling curses and insults together he vainly tried to stay their flight. “You cowards!” he vociferated, “you traitors! you fly and you are ten against one! Where are you going? To your own homes? Fools! you will only find the gendarmes there, waiting your coming to conduct you to the scaffold. Is it not better to die with your weapons in your hands? Come--right about. Follow me! We may still conquer. Re-enforcements are at hand; two thousand men are following me!” He promised them two thousand men; had he promised them ten thousand, twenty thousand--an army and cannon, it would have made no difference. Not until they reached the wide open space of the cross-roads, where they had talked so confidently scarcely an hour before, did the more intelligent of the throng regain their senses, while the others fled in every direction.