"
"Before Conde?"
"At the camp of Pamars; he was hit by a cannonball."
Boisberthelot sighed.
"Count Dampierre,--another of our men, who took sides with them."
"May he prosper wherever he may be!" said Vieuville.
"And the ladies,--where are they?"
"At Trieste."
"Still there?"
"Yes."
"Ah, this republic!" exclaimed La Vieuville. "What havoc from so
slight a cause! To think that this revolution was the result of a
deficit of only a few millions!"
"Insignificant beginnings are not always to be trusted."
"Everything goes wrong," replied La Vieuville.
"Yes; La Rouarie is dead. Du Dresnay is an idiot. What wretched
leaders are all those bishops,--this Coucy, bishop of La Rochelle;
Beaupoll Saint-Aulaire, bishop of Poitiers; Mercy, bishop of Luzon, a
lover of Madame de l'Eschasserie----"
"Whose name is Servanteau, you know, commander. Eschasserie is the
name of an estate."
"And that false bishop of Agra, who is a cure of I know not what!"
"Of Dol. His name is Guillot de Folleville. But then he is brave, and
knows how to fight."
"Priests when one needs soldiers! bishops who are no bishops at all!
generals who are no generals!"
La Vieuville interrupted Boisberthelot.
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