Lacheneur, who had remained on horseback amid his partisans, utterly ignoring the bullets that whistled round him, felt that his few remaining friends were about to be exterminated. At that supreme moment a vision of the past flitted before his mind’s eye, with the rapidity of 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, and cursed himself for the falsehoods with which he had deceived these brave men, for whose death he would be accountable to God. 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 fly, for was he not mounted on a swift 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 except in death. He had only to wait for it, for it was fast approaching; and yet he preferred to rush to meet it. Gathering up the reins, and applying the spurs he charged upon the enemy. The shock was rude, the ranks opened, and there was a moment’s confusion. Then Lacheneur’s horse, wounded by a dozen bayonet thrusts, reared on its hind-legs, beat the air with its forehoofs, and, falling backwards, pinned its rider underneath. And the soldiers marched onward not suspecting that the rider was struggling to free himself. It was half-past one in the morning--the open space where the cross roads met was virtually deserted. Nothing could be heard save the moans of a few wounded men, calling on their comrades for succour. Before thinking of attending to the wounded, M. de Sairmeuse had to occupy himself with his own personal interests and glory. Now that the insurrection had, so to say, been suppressed, it was necessary to exaggerate its magnitude as much as possible, in order that his grace’s reward might be in proportion with the services he would be supposed to have rendered. Some fifteen or twenty rebels had been captured; but these were not sufficient to give the victory all the _eclat_ which the duke desired. He must find more culprits to drag before the provost-marshal or before a military commission. He, therefore, divided his troops into several detachments, and sent them in every direction with orders to explore the villages, search the houses, and arrest all suspected persons. Having given this order and recommended implacable severity, he turned his horse and started at a brisk trot for Montaignac.