uld have recognized the "saye," or the "sayon" of the
Gauls, ended at his middle, where it was fastened to two leggings of
goatskin by slivers, or thongs of wood, roughly cut,--some of them still
covered with their peel or bark. These hides of the nanny-goat (to give
them the name by which they were known to the peasantry) covered his
legs and thighs, and masked all appearance of human shape. Enormous
sabots hid his feet. His long and shining hair fell straight, like the
goat's hair, on either side of his face, being parted in the centre like
the hair of certain statues of the Middle-Ages which are still to
be seen in our cathedrals. In place of the knotty stick which the
conscripts carried over their shoulders, this man held against his
breast as though it were a musket, a heavy whip, the lash of which was
closely braided and seemed to be twice as long as that of an ordinary
whip. The sudden apparition of this strange being seemed easily
explained. At first sight some of the officers took him for a recruit or
conscript (the words were used indiscriminately) who had outstripped the
column. But the commandant himself was singularly surprised by the
man's presence; he showed no alarm, but his face grew thoughtful.
After looking the intruder well over, he repeated, mechanically, as if
preoccupied with anxious thought: "Yes, why don't they come on? do you
know, you?"

"Because," said the gloomy apparition, with an accent which proved his
difficulty in speaking French, "there Maine begins" (pointing with his
huge, rough hand towards Ernee), "and Bretagne ends."

Then he struck the ground sharply with the handle of his heavy
whip close to the commandant's feet. The impression produced on the
spectators by the laconic harangue of the stranger was like that of
a tom-tom in the midst of tender music. But the word "harangue" is
insufficient to reproduce the hatred, the desires of vengeance expressed
by the haughty gesture of the hand, the brevity of the speech, and
the look of sullen and cool-blooded energy on the countenance of the
speaker. The coarseness and roughness of the man,--chopped out, as it
seemed by an axe, with his rough bark still left on him,--and the stupid
ignorance of his features, made him seem, for the moment, like some
half-savage demigod. He stood stock-still in a prophetic attitude, as
though he were the Genius of Brittany rising from a slumber of three
years, to renew a war in which victory could only be