“They have not yet done so,” he retorted. “We have taken Les Herbiers, Montaigu, Chantonnay, Cholet and Vihiers, one after the other, like shaking ripe plums from a tree. After all, victory depends not so much upon organization or generalship, or even numbers, as upon the spirit of the men themselves. The army which goes into a battle with each individual unit of it bent on victory wins the victory. The army which fights half-heartedly loses. That is the history of every battle. The people of the Bocage are fighting for their homes and their religion--their souls are in the conflict, and they will never admit themselves defeated until the last man has been slain. Within a month the Blues will have been driven completely from Vendée, and the King will reign there;” and at the words he crossed himself. “‘God and the King’ is our watchword.” He saw the question in the glance I turned upon him. “You are wondering,” he said, “why at such a time I should have left the army. Two nights since I received a message that my wife was dangerously ill--dying even. The army will be victorious without me--but my wife----” He stopped. I understood and nodded gently. “Only that could have brought me away,” he added--“the certainty that she needed me. I started at once but found the Blues in force at Coulonges. I attempted to turn aside and at once lost my way amid the innumerable and abominable roads with which that country is cursed. I was forced finally to ride on to Chinon and then along the Loire, for it seemed as though every road was blocked by the enemy. I should have reached the château last night, and behold me only this far;” and he pricked his horse savagely and galloped forward. I followed, and for a time we held the pace without exchanging a word, he busy with his own thoughts, and I wrapped in contemplation of the marvellous turn of fortune which had not only restored me all that I had lost, but which had also given me the friendship of a man like this. I looked at him from time to time, admiring more than ever the fine face and graceful figure. He was, I judged, not over thirty; but there was something in the glance of his eye, in the set of his lips, which told me that he had played his part in the world for many years. Perhaps the time was at hand when I should play my part, too. At last we drew rein to give our horses breath, and my companion pointed out to me some of the features of the country. To our right was the gentle valley of the Vienne, and finally we dipped into it and crossed the river at a ford. “Now I am at home,” he said, looking about with a smile of pleasure. “But in this case home is not without its dangers, for I may be recognized at any turn, and the adventure of this morning warns me to be careful. At the village, there may even be another detachment of Republicans. So I think it would be wise to turn aside and take that path yonder, by which we shall not only avoid the town but come directly to my estate.”