De Vardes, with Liancourt and Rochefoucauld, Holds that the peasant doth possess a soul! I think it hurt him to the heart that he, New come to Morbec, and unknown to these, His vassals of the village, field, and shore, Should be esteemed by them an enemy, A Baron Henri come again, forsooth! But since ‘twas so, out rapier! parry! thrust! Diable! he’s a swordsman to my mind! The mænad with the sickle he puts by; Runs through the arm a clamourer of corvée, Brings howling to his knees a sans-culotte, And strikes a flail from out a claw-like hand! They falter, they give way, the craven throng! The women cry them on; they swarm again. His bright steel flashes, rise and fall my tongs! But the lackeys are naught, and Grégoire finds A flaw in his musket; he will not fire! Pardieu! the things this Revolution kills! There is no faithfulness in service now! Our peasants grow bold. Ma foi! we’re at bay! De Vardes and De Barbasan, rapier, tongs! Wild blows and wild cries, blown smoke and a glare, And the girl Yvette with her reaping hook Still pushed to the front by the women there! Upon De Vardes’ white sleeve the blood is dark, And his breath comes fast! I see the event As ‘twill look in print in Paris next week, In _L’Ami du Peuple or Journal du Roi_! “The Vain Defence of an Ancient Château! When we Burn so Much, why not Burn the Land?” And I break with my tongs a young death’s-head That’s bawling—What think you?—_Vive la République._ COUNT LOUIS Death and damnation! THE ABBÉ So I said! And then, Quite, I assure you, in time’s very nick, The saint De Vardes prays to smiled on him! A thunder clap!—_Pas de charge! En avant!_ Captain Fauquemont de Buc and his Hussars! DE BUC Warned by the saint, we galloped from Auray! THE ABBÉ Like the dead leaves borne afar on the blast, Or like the sea mist when the sun rises, Or like the red deer when the horn’s sounded,— Like anything in short that’s light o’ heel,— Vanished our peasants! The women went last; And last of all the mænad with the eyes! Jesu! She might have been Jeanne d’Arc, that girl! The man who captures her has a hand full!— To the deep woods they fled, are hunted now.— De Vardes and I gave welcome to De Buc, Put out the fire, attended to our wounds, Resumed our cards, and finished our _Alzire_— The Château of Morbec stands, you observe! [_The company applauds._ MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI But who was the saint?— DE BUC Ah, here is De Vardes! _Enter_ DE VARDES. _He is dressed in slight mourning and carries his arm in a sling._ THE GUESTS Monsieur the Baron of Morbec!