nd lifted the valise.

"Despise gold as much as you please, my dear Morgan, since that doesn't
prevent you from capturing it. But I know of some brave fellows who are
awaiting these sixty thousand francs, you so disdainfully kick aside,
with as much impatience and anxiety as a caravan, lost in the desert,
awaits the drop of water which is to save it from dying of thirst."

"Our friends of the Vendee, I suppose?" replied Morgan. "Much good may
it do them! Egotists, they are fighting. These gentlemen have chosen
the roses and left us the thorns. Come! don't they receive anything from
England?"

"Oh, yes," said one of the monks, gayly; "at Quiberon they got bullets
and grapeshot."

"I did not say from the English," retorted Morgan; "I said from
England."

"Not a penny."

"It seems to me, however," said one of those present, who apparently
possessed a more reflective head than his comrades, "it seems to me that
our princes might send a little gold to those who are shedding their
blood for the monarchy. Are they not afraid the Vendee may weary
some day or other of a devotion which up to this time has not, to my
knowledge, won her a word of thanks."

"The Vendee, dear friend," replied Morgan, "is a generous land which
will not weary, you may be sure. Besides, where is the merit of fidelity
unless it has to deal with ingratitude? From the instant devotion meets
recognition, it is no longer devotion. It becomes an exchange which
reaps its reward. Let us be always faithful, and always devoted,
gentlemen, praying Heaven that those whom we serve may remain
ungrateful, and then, believe me, we shall bear the better part in the
history of our civil wars."

Morgan had scarcely formulated this chivalric axiom, expressive of a
desire which had every chance of accomplishment, than three Masonic
blows resounded upon the door through which he had entered.

"Gentlemen," said the monk who seemed to fill the role of president,
"quick, your hoods and masks. We do not know who may be coming to us."

CHAPTER VIII. HOW THE MONEY OF THE DIRECTORY WAS USED

Every one hastened to obey. The monks lowered the hoods of their long
robes over their faces, Morgan replaced his mask.

"Enter!" said the superior.

The door opened and the serving-brother appeared.

"An emissary from General Georges Cadoudal asks to be admitted," said
he.

"Did he reply to the three passwords?"

"Perfectly."

"Then let him in."

The lay brother