Cadoudal walked back to Roland. During the whole of this desperate struggle the young man had remained on the mound. With his eyes fixed on the battle, his hair damp with sweat, his breast heaving, he waited for the result. Then, when he saw the day was lost, his head fell upon his hands, and he still sat on, his forehead bowed to the earth. Cadoudal reached him before he seemed to hear the sound of footsteps. He touched the young man’s shoulder. Roland raised his head slowly without attempting to hide the two great tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “General,” said Roland, “do with me what you will. I am your prisoner.” “I can’t make the First Consul’s ambassador a prisoner,” replied Cadoudal, laughing, “but I can ask him to do me a service.” “Command me, general.” “I need a hospital for the wounded, and a prison for prisoners; will you take the Republican soldiers, wounded and prisoners, back to Vannes.” “What do you mean, general?” exclaimed Roland. “I give them, or rather I confide them to you. I regret that your horse was killed; so is mine. But there is still that of Brise-Bleu; accept it.” The young man made a motion of rejection. “Until you can obtain another, of course,” added Cadoudal, bowing. Roland felt that he must put himself, at least in simplicity, on a level with the man with whom he was dealing. “Shall I see you again, general?” he asked, rising. “I doubt it, sir. My operations call me to the coast near Port-Louis; your duty recalls you to the Luxembourg.” “What shall I tell the First Consul, general?” “What you have seen, sir. He must judge between the Abbé Bernier’s diplomacy and that of Georges Cadoudal.” “After what I have seen, sir, I doubt if you ever have need of me,” said Roland; “but in any case remember that you have a friend near the First Consul.” And he held out his hand to Cadoudal. The royalist took it with the same frankness and freedom he had shown before the battle. “Farewell, Monsieur de Montrevel,” said he, “I need not ask you to justify General Hatry. A defeat like that is fully as glorious as a victory.” During this time Brise-Bleu’s horse had been led up for the Republican colonel. He sprang into the saddle. “By the bye,” said Cadoudal, “as you go through La Roche-Bernard, just inquire what has happened to citizen Thomas Millière.” “He is dead,” said a voice. Coeur-de-Roi and his four men, covered with mud and sweat, had just arrived, but too late for the battle. Roland cast a last glance at the battlefield, sighed, and, waving a last farewell to Cadoudal, started at a gallop across the fields to await, on the road to Vannes, the wagon-load of wounded and the prisoners he was asked to deliver to General Hatry. Cadoudal had given a crown of six sous to each man. Roland could not help reflecting that the gift was made with the money of the Directory sent to the West by Morgan and the Companions of Jehu. CHAPTER XXXV. A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE