De Lescure and Cathelineau were together in a farm-house, within five hundred yards of the place where the baggage had been left, and within half a mile of the most distant of the men who had thus taken upon themselves to march, or rather to rush, away without orders; and some of those who still had their senses about them, soon let their Generals know what was going forward.

They were seated together, planning the attack for the next morning.

Denot was with Larochejaquelin, and d'Elbee and Stofflet were together with the detachment on the banks of the river: they were, therefore, alone when Father Jerome rushed into the room.

"The men are off, M. de Lescure," said he: "do you not hear them? For Heaven's sake go down to them, Cathelineau; some one has told them that you and Larochejaquelin were gone to Saumur; and they are all preparing to follow you."

"Heaven and earth!" said de Lescure, "they will be destroyed."

"Unless you stop them they will," said Father Jerome, "they will all fall upon the camp just as the republicans are under arms, and prepared to receive them. Hurry, Cathelineau; you alone can stop them."

Cathelineau without uttering a word, seized his sword, and rushed out of the room without his cap; and followed by M. de Lescure, hurried through the farm-yard, leapt a little gate, and got upon the road a few yards from the place where the waggons had been left. The whole place was in the utmost confusion: the men were hurrying to and fro, hardly knowing what they were doing or going to do: the most ardent of them were already a quarter of a mile advanced on the road to Saumur; others were still following them; those who knew that they should have stayed quiet during the night, were in the utmost distress; they did not know whether to support their comrades, or to remain where they were.

"'What ails them, Peter?" said Cathelineau, catching hold of the arm of a man who had followed him from St. Florent, "if they advance they will be destroyed at Varin;" and as he spoke, he leapt upon the top of one of the waggons laden with provisions, which had come from Durbelliere.

It was a beautiful warm evening in June, and the air was heavy with the sweet scent of the flowering hedges; it was now nearly nine o'clock, and the sun had set; but the whole western horizon was gorgeous with the crimson streaks which accompanied its setting. Standing in the waggon, Cathelineau could see the crowds of hurrying royalists rushing along the road, wherever the thick foliage of trees was sufficiently broken to leave any portion of it visible, and he could hear the eager hum of their voices both near him and at a distance.

"No power on earth could bring them back," said he. "Now, Peter, run to the stable for your life; my horse is there and M. de Lescure's--bring them both. They are both saddled. Run my friend; a moment lost now will cost a hundred lives."

It was Peter Berrier to whom he spoke, and in spite of his evil treatment at Durbelliere, Peter ran for the horses, as though he was running for the King's crown.

"It is impossible to stop them," said Cathelineau, still standing on the waggon, and speaking to de Lescure, whom he had outran. "All La Vendee could not stop them; but we may head them, M. de Lescure, and lead them on; we must attack the camp tonight."

"Our loss will be terrible if we do," said de Lescure.

"It will, it will be terrible, and we shall be repulsed; but that will be better than letting them rush into positive destruction. In an hour's time they will be between the camp, the town, and the heights of Bournan, and nothing then could save them."

"Let us go, then," said de Lescure; "but will you not send to d'Elbee?"

"Yes; but do not desire him to follow us. In two hours time he will have enough to do to cover our retreat."

"We shall, at any rate, have the darkness in our favour," said de Lescure.

"We shall; but we have two dreadful hours of light before that time comes: here are our horses--let us mount; there is nothing for us now but a hard ride, a good drubbing--and then, the best face we can put upon it tomorrow."

Orders were then given to Peter Berrier to make the best of his way across to M. d'Elbee, and to explain to him what had occurred, and bid him keep his men in reserve under arms, and as near to the waggons as he could. "And be sure," said Catheineau, "be sure, Peter, to make him understand, that he is at once to leave the river and come across to the road, to keep his men, you know, immediately close to the waggons."

"I understand," said Peter, "I understand," and he at once started off on his important errand.

"It is a bad messenger, I fear," said Cathelineau; "but we have no better; indeed we are lucky even to find him."

"I wonder," said Peter Berrier to himself, as he ran across the fields, "I wonder whether they'll make nothing of this job, too, as they did of that day at St. Florent. I suppose they will; some men haven't the luck ever to be thought much of."

Notwithstanding his gloomy presentiments, Peter made the best of his way to M. d'Elbee, and having found him, told him how the men had started by themselves for Saumur; how de Lescure and Cathelineau had followed them; how they intended to attack the camp at Varin that night, and he ended by saying, "And you, M. d'Elbe--"

"Of course we must follow them," said d'Elbee.

"Not a foot," said Peter; "that is just why they sent me, instead of any common messenger; that I might explain it all to you properly. You are not to stir a foot after them; but are to remain here, just where you are, till they return."

"That is impossible," said d'Elbee. "What good on earth can I do, remaining here?"

"Why, Cathelineau will know where to find you, when he wants you."

"You are mistaken, Peter Berrier," said d'Elbee. "You must be mistaken.

Perhaps he meant that I should go over to the road, to cover their retreat. G.o.d knows they will want some one to do so."

"That is just it," said Peter. "They mean to retreat down the river, and you are to remain just where you are."

As might be expected, M. d'Elbee was completely puzzled, and he sent off three or four men, to endeavour to get fresh orders, either from Cathelineau or from de Lescure; and while waiting to receive them, he kept his useless position by the river side.

In the mean time, Cathelineau and de Lescure had hurried off, at the top of their horses' speed, to endeavour to head the column of madmen who were rushing towards almost certain destruction. They will, at any rate, meet Larochejaquelin on his return, and he will stop them. This thought occurred to both of them, but neither of them spoke; indeed, they were moving too quickly, and with too much trouble to be able to speak. There object now was not to stop the men who thronged the roads; they only wanted to head them before they came to the portion of the road which pa.s.sed close by the trenches of the camp at Varin.

They were so far successful, that they found themselves nearly at the head of the column by the time they came within sight of the great banks which the royalists had thrown up. It was still light enough for them to see the arms of the republican troops, and they were near enough to the camp to hear the movements of the men within it, in spite of the increasing noise of their own troops.

"They are ready to receive us," said de Lescure to himself, "and a warm reception they are likely to give us."

He now separated himself from Cathelineau, and galloped before the trenches to an open s.p.a.ce where Larochejaquelin had stationed himself with the cavalry. Henri had completely surprised the sentinels on duty in the camps; he and about twenty others had dismounted, had shot four or five sentries at their post, and had again retreated to their horses before the republicans were able to return his fire. But what was his surprise on preparing to remount his horse, to hear the rush of his own men coming along the road, and to see the cloud of dust which enveloped them. Henri tried to speak to them, and to learn what new plan brought them there; but the foremost men were too much out of breath to speak to him: however, they shouted and hurraed at seeing him, and slackened their pace a little. They were then almost within musket shot of the republicans, and the b.a.l.l.s from the trenches began to drop very near them. Henri was still in an agony of suspense, not knowing what to do or to propose, when de Lescure emerged from out of the cloud of dust, and galloped up to him.

"What on earth has brought you here, Charles?" said Henri. "Why have the men come on in this way? Every man within the camp will have a musket in his hand in five minutes time."

"It is too late now to help it," said de Lescure; "if we both live over this night, I will explain it to you. Cathelineau is behind there; we must lead the men to the attack; he will be in the trenches immediately."

"Lead on," said Henri, jumping off his horse, "or rather I will go first; but stop, the men must have five minutes to get their breath; they are all choked with running. Come, my men," said he, turning to the crowds who were cl.u.s.tering round them, "we will disturb the dreams of these republicans; the blues are not fond of fighting by night, but if they are asleep I think we will soon wake them," and accompanied by his friend, he rushed down into the trenches, and the men followed him by hundreds, covered with dust, choked with thirst, breathless with their long run, and utterly ignorant what they were going to do, or how they were to for an entrance into the camp.

At the same moment, Cathelineau leapt into the trench at the point nearest to the road by which he had come, and his men followed him enthusiastically, shouting at the top of their voices "Vive le roi!" "A bas la republique." Hitherto they had been successful in every effort they had made. The republican troops had fled from every point which had been attacked; the Vendeans had, as yet, met no disasters, and they thought themselves, by the special favour of the Almighty, invincible when fighting against the enemies of the King.

The camp at Varin was not a regularly fortified position; but it was surrounded by a deep trench, with steep earth-works thrown up inside it.

These were high enough to afford great protection to those within, and steep enough to offer a considerable obstacle to any attacking party: but the earth was still soft, and the foremost among the Vendeans were not long in finding themselves within the entrenchment; but when there they met a terribly hot reception.

The feigned attack made by Larochejaquelin had just served to warn the republicans, and by the time the real attack was made, every man was under arms. As de Lescure had said, the old soldiers of Valmy and of Jemappes were there. Men accustomed to arms, who well knew the smell of powder, and who were prepared to contest every inch of ground before they gave it up. These men, too, wore defensive armour, and the Vendeans, unaccustomed to meet enemies so well prepared, were dismayed, when they perceived that their enemies did not as usual give way before them.

The slaughter in the trenches was tremendous: the first attack had been made with great spirit, and about four hundred of the Vendeans were in the camp before the murderous fire of the republicans commenced, among these were de Lescure, Larochejaquelin, and Cathelineau; and they made their way even to the centre of the camp; but those who had not made a portion of the first a.s.sault, fell back by twenties and thirties under the fire of the republicans; twice Larochejaquelin returned and nearly cleared the top of the trenches, in order to make way for the men below to come up; but they were frightened and intimidated; their powder was all gone, and they perceived that their first attempt had failed; their friends and comrades were falling on every side of them; and, after a while, they retreated from the trenches beyond reach of musket shot.

Cathelineau had expected that this would be the case, and though he had been one of the first within the camp, he was prepared to leave it again as soon as he could make the men, who were with him, understand that it was necessary they should do so. It was now dusk, and the uncertain light favoured his intention.

"'Where is your master?" said he to Jacques, whom he chanced to find close to him; "tell him to lead his men down the trenches again, back to the road, at once, at once; beg him to be the first to leap down himself; they will not go unless he leads them."

Jacques did as he was bid, and Larochejaquelin led the men back to the trenches.

"Come, my friends," said he, "we have given them enough for tonight--we have broken their sleep; come, we will visit them again tomorrow." And he dashed through a body of republicans who were now firing from the trenches, and about one hundred of his own men followed him.

The republicans had stuck huge pine-wood torches into the green sods a-top of the trenches, which gave a ghastly glaring light immediately in their own vicinity, though they did not relieve the darkness at a few paces distant. As Henri rushed through them, some of the soldiers observed his peculiar costume and hallaoed out, "fire upon the red scarf," (tirez sur le mouchoir rouge,) but the confusion was too great to allow of this friendly piece of advice being followed, or else the musketeers were bad marksmen, for Henri went safely through the trench, though many of his men were wounded in following him.

Cathelineau's men soon followed, as did also Cathelineau himself; the last man who leapt into the trenches was de Lescure; but he also got safely through them--not above twenty-five or thirty of those who had forced their way into the camp, fell; but above three hundred of those who had only attempted it, were left dead or wounded in the trenches.

And now the retreat commenced, and Cathelineau found it impossible to accomplish it with anything like order; the three leaders endeavoured to make the men conceive that they had been entirely successful in all which it had been thought desirable to accomplish, but they had seen too much bloodshed to be deceived--they were completely dismayed and disheartened, and returned back towards Montreuil, almost quicker than they had come.

The men had brought 'Marie Jeanne' with them; but in the species of attack which they had made, the cannon was not of the slightest use; it had not been once discharged. A great effort was now made to take it back with them, but the attempt was unsuccessful: they had not dragged it above five hundred yards, when they heard that the republicans were following them; and then, as every man was obliged to think of himself, poor 'Marie Jeanne' was left to her fate.

It was soon evident to Cathelineau and de Lescure, that they were pursued; but the night was dark, and they calculated that M. d'Elbee's men would be drawn up at the waggons; it was more than probable that they would then be able, not only to stop the pursuit, but to avenge themselves on their pursuers. What then was their surprise on reaching the waggons, to find them utterly deserted--there was not a single man with them.