On the whole, the Vendée has served the cause of progress by showing the necessity of scattering the ancient shadows of Brittany by discharging into its thickets all the arrows of enlightenment Catastrophes have a gloomy way of settling affairs. [Footnote 1: Vol. ii. p. 35.] [Footnote 2: The uncapped become unbreeched.--TR.] [Footnote 3: Puysaye, vol. ii. pp. 187, 434.] [Footnote 4: Ibid., p. 35.] [Illustration: The Three Children 074] BOOK II. THE THREE CHILDREN. [Illustration 075] I. PLUS QUAM CIVILIA BELLA. The summer of 1792 had been a very rainy one; but that of 1793 was so extremely warm that, although the civil war had gone far towards ruining the roads in Brittany, the people--thanks to the fine weather--were able to travel from place to place, for a dry soil makes the best road. At the close of a clear July day, about an hour after sunset, a man on horseback, riding from the direction of Avranches, stopped before the little inn called the Croix-Blanchard, situated at the entrance of Pontorson. For some years its sign had borne the following inscription: "Good cider obtained here." The day had been a very warm one, but now the wind was beginning to rise. The traveller was wrapped in an ample cloak that fell over his horse's back. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, ornamented with a tricolored cockade, which was rather a bold thing to do in a country like this, with its hedges and sharpshooting, for which a cockade offered an excellent target. The cloak fastened around his neck was pushed back, leaving his arms free, and revealing at the same time a tricolored belt and the butts of two pistols protruding from it, while a sabre hung down below the cloak. At the sound of the horses hoofs stopping before the inn the door opened, and the landlord came out, holding a lantern in his hand. It was just at twilight, when it is still light out of doors, although dark within. The host glanced at the cockade. "Do you mean to stop here, citizen?" "No." "Where are you going, then?" "To Dol." "In that case, you would do better to return to Avranches, or else remain at Pontorson." "Why so?" "Because they are fighting at Dol." "Ah!" said the rider; then he continued, "Give my horse some oats." The host, having brought the trough and poured the oats into it, proceeded to unbridle the horse, which began at once snuffing and champing, while the dialogue went on. "Is this one of the requisition horses, citizen?" "No." "Does it belong to you?" "Yes. I bought him and paid for him." "Where do you come from?" "From Paris." "Not directly?" "No." "I should say not. The roads are blocked; but the post still runs." "As far as Alençon. I left it there."