“Monsieur _de_ Cottereau,” said the marquis, “I see some of our invited guests arriving. We must all do our best by attention and courtesy to make them share our sacred enterprise; you will agree, I am sure, that this is not the moment to bring forward your demands, however just they may be.” So saying, the marquis went to the door, as if to meet certain of the country nobles who were entering the room, but the bold smuggler barred his way in a respectful manner. “No, no, monsieur le marquis, excuse me,” he said; “the Jacobins taught me too well in 1793 that it is not he who sows and reaps who eats the bread. Sign this bit of paper for me, and to-morrow I’ll bring you fifteen hundred gars. If not, I’ll treat with the First Consul.” Looking haughtily about him, the marquis saw plainly that the boldness of the old partisan and his resolute air were not displeasing to any of the spectators of this debate. One man alone, sitting by himself in a corner of the room, appeared to take no part in the scene, and to be chiefly occupied in filling his pipe. The contemptuous air with which he glanced at the speakers, his modest demeanor, and a look of sympathy which the marquis encountered in his eyes, made the young leader observe the man, whom he then recognized as Major Brigaut, and he went suddenly up to him. “And you, what do you want?” he said. “Oh, monsieur le marquis, if the king comes back that’s all I want.” “But for yourself?” “For myself? are you joking?” The marquis pressed the horny hand of the Breton, and said to Madame du Gua, who was near them: “Madame, I may perish in this enterprise before I have time to make a faithful report to the king on the Catholic armies of Brittany. I charge you, in case you live to see the Restoration, not to forget this honorable man nor the Baron du Guenic. There is more devotion in them than in all those other men put together.” He pointed to the chiefs, who were waiting with some impatience till the marquis should reply to their demands. They were all holding papers in their hands, on which, no doubt, their services were recorded over the signatures of the various generals of the former war; and all were murmuring. The Abbe Gudin, the Comte de Bauvan, and the Baron du Guenic were consulting how best to help the marquis in rejecting these extravagant demands, for they felt the position of the young leader to be extremely delicate. Suddenly the marquis ran his blue eyes, gleaming with satire, over the whole assembly, and said in a clear voice: “Gentlemen, I do not know whether the powers which the king has graciously assigned to me are such that I am able to satisfy your demands. He doubtless did not foresee such zeal, such devotion, on your part. You shall judge yourselves of the duties put upon me,--duties which I shall know how to accomplish.” So saying, he left the room and returned immediately holding in his hand an open letter bearing the royal seal and signature.