," he mused aloud. Then beckoned the
one in the crimson coat.

"Hola, Citizen," he called to him.

The fellow hesitated a moment, then shuffled forward with a sullen air,
and stood by Caron's stirrup.

"In God's name, what are you and who are you?" the Deputy demanded.

"We are invalided soldiers from the army of Dumouriez," the man answered
him.

"But what are you doing here, at Boisvert?"

"We are in hospital, Citizen."

"Yonder?" asked La Boulaye derisively, pointing with his whip to the
"Eagle Inn."

The fellow nodded.

"Yes, Citizen, yonder," he answered curtly.

La Boulaye looked surprised. Then his eyes strayed to the others on the
green.

"But you are not all invalids?" he questioned.

"Many of us are convalescent."

"Convalescent? But those three braves yonder are something more than
convalescent. They are as well as I am. Why do they not rejoin the
troops?"

The fellow looked up with a scowl.

"We take our orders from our officer," he answered sourly.

"Ah!" quoth the Deputy. "There is someone in charge here, then? Who may
it be?"

"Captain Charlot," the fellow answered, with an impudent air, which
clearly seemed to ask: "What have you to say to that?"

"Captain Charlot?" echoed La Boulaye, in astonishment, for the name was
that of the sometime peasant of Bellecour, who had since risen in life,
and who, as an officer, had in a few months acquired a brilliant fame
for deeds of daring. "Charlot Tardivet?" he inquired.

"Is there any other Captain Charlot in the army of the Republic?" the
fellow asked insolently.

"Is he invalided too?" inquired Caron, without heeding the soldier's
offensiveness of manner.

"He was severely wounded at Jemappes," was the answer.

"At Jemappes? But, voyons my friend, Jemappes was fought three months
ago."

"Why, so all the world knows. What then? The General sent Captain
Charlot here to rest and be cured, giving him charge of the invalided
soldiers who came with him and of others who were already here."

"And of these," cried La Boulaye, his amazement growing, "have none
returned to Dumouriez?"

"Have I not said that we are invalids?"

Caron eyed him with cold contempt.

"How many of you are there?" he asked. And for all that the man began to
mislike this questioning, he had not the hardihood to refuse an answer
to the stern tones of that stern man on horseback.

"Some fifty, or thereabouts."

La Boulaye said nothing for a moment, then touch