with us; sooner or later we shall triumph and you'll be
counsellor to some parliament."

"Parliaments!" said young Gudin, in a mocking tone. "Good-bye, uncle."

"You sha'n't have a penny at my death," cried his uncle, in a rage.
"I'll disinherit you."

"Thank you, uncle," said the Republican, as they parted.

The fumes of the cider which the patriot copiously bestowed on Coupiau
during the passage of the little troop had somewhat dimmed the driver's
perceptions, but he roused himself joyously when the innkeeper, having
questioned the soldiers, came back to the inn and announced that the
Blues were victorious. He at once brought out the coach and before long
it was wending its way across the valley.

When the Blues reached an acclivity on the road from which the plateau
of La Pelerine could again be seen in the distance, Hulot turned
round to discover if the Chouans were still occupying it, and the sun,
glinting on the muzzles of the guns, showed them to him, each like a
dazzling spot. Giving a last glance to the valley of La Pelerine before
turning into that of Ernee, he thought he saw Coupiau's vehicle on the
road he had just traversed.

"Isn't that the Mayenne coach?" he said to his two officers.

They looked at the venerable turgotine, and easily recognized it.

"But," said Hulot, "how did we fail to meet it?"

Merle and Gerard looked at each other in silence.

"Another enigma!" cried the commandant. "But I begin to see the meaning
of it all."

At the same moment Marche-a-Terre, who also knew the turgotine, called
his comrades' attention to it, and the general shout of joy which they
sent up roused the young lady from her reflections. She advanced a
little distance and saw the coach, which was beginning the ascent of
La Pelerine with fatal rapidity. The luckless vehicle soon reached the
plateau. The Chouans, who had meantime hidden themselves, swooped on
their prey with hungry celerity. The silent traveller slipped to the
floor of the carriage, bundling himself up into the semblance of a bale.

"Well done!" cried Coupiau from his wooden perch, pointing to the man in
the goatskin; "you must have scented this patriot who has lots of gold
in his pouch--"

The Chouans greeted these words with roars of laughter, crying out:
"Pille-Miche! hey, Pille-Miche! Pille-Miche!"

Amid the laughter, to which Pille-Miche responded like an echo, Coupiau
came down from his seat quite crestfallen. When the famous Cibot,