"I heard on the other side of the water,--thank God, that I am on this!--that they had taken prisoner Catinat and Cavalier, and therefore it is probably all over with the war. What a pity, say I, if they massacre Cavalier, as they have so many others." "Why a pity?" exclaimed the priest hastily, "what else then does the rebel deserve? perhaps you are also a follower of the new doctrine?" "No, reverend sir," said the huntsman, "I was one of the every first that was converted by these gentlemen dragoons. They came in the name of the king, and--of him whose bread I eat, whose song I sing--they were not particularly gentle; thirty in the village were massacred: 'Dog,' said they, 'the pure faith, or die!' why so harsh? said I, I am not at all prejudiced against the creed, only you might have enforced it with a little more gentleness. When I saw the execrable man[oe]uvre, my resolution was quickly formed, and I am now in the service of a right zealous catholic master, the Intendant of Basville. I only mean that it is a pity for Cavalier for he is a good fellow, and has already puzzled many a brave officer." "That is very true," said the priest a little softened, "he is the only one among the rebels, who understands how to conduct the affair; fearless as a lion, generous, ever self-possessed, knowing how to occupy the best positions, and humane to his prisoners, he is born to be a hero and a leader, and still more to be admired, for from a swineherd he rose to greatness. It is through him that I have lost my vicarage and that I am now making a tour here in Camargue, Nismes, and Montpellier in order to obtain another appointment."