"Colonel Julien related to the Intendant the wonderful manner in which he had effected his escape from the recesses of the mountains of the Cevennes, three months previously. He was in command of a small expedition and thought to have entirely defeated the rebels in a hot encounter, when he perceived himself on all sides suddenly surrounded towards evening. 'Around us,' said he, 'were steep, barren mountains, while we were preparing for a retreat, all the heights were suddenly occupied by multitudes of people, before and behind us were swarms of dark figures, we could not long remain doubtful of our position; for suddenly large stones rolled down on our troop, which in their heavy descent crushed our people murderously. Here there was no rallying to be thought of, therefore we retreated almost flying towards a mill near a mountain stream. I was convinced I should find this pass also occupied, and gave myself up for lost. The rocks crushed my soldiers right and left, resistance being impossible. Now sprung from the other side, like chamois, more than a hundred down from the steep heights, and in this disorder, where we could not hold our footing, a bloody fight ensued; I had been already wounded three times, and my fighting men were rapidly decreasing, darkness came on, when, in a moment, while the Camisards burst into their howling hymns, a panic seized the rest of my troop, and they all rushed towards the opening of the valley. The victorious band pursued them from the other side, new foes beset them. Bleeding, I leaned solitarily against a rock and saw through the twilight my company hewn down, the former could not perceive me, however, firmly they had sworn my death. I dragged myself sideways towards the little bridge that leads to the mill on the other side, certain of meeting death; but I found it undefended. A fault that I should not have expected from the rebels, for they were headed by Cavalier, as I heard in the midst of the cries and hubbub. All this misfortune, however, happened to me only in consequence of false informers, who brought me lying accounts; men, that I had long known, and whose fidelity seemed to me to have been tried; but they merely played this part, the better to deceive me, for they belonged to the Camisards.' "The worst of this is," said the Intendant, "that we dare trust no one, not a single one. The most sincere, the most zealous patriots in appearance, betray us. We are reproached for severity and harshness, but I fear we are yet too mild and compassionate, for these faithless rebels deserve no quarter; they can only be subdued by continued, inexorable severity." "They should be wholly extirpated," interrupted the Marshal, who in the middle of his own lively conversation had only listened to the last words.