The Camisade

By Rafael Sabatini

'The Camisade' is a collection of short stories written by Rafael Sabatini. The main theme of the book is that of the French Revolution—albeit a fictionalized depiction of it. Many of the works bear the same themes as that of his most famous novel, 'Scaramouche'. Featured titles to be found inside this book include 'The Coward', 'Mademoiselle de Castelroc', and 'The Ghost of Citizen Duvallon'.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DigiCat
• Release date: Sep 15, 2022
• ISBN: 8596547322511

Book preview

Rafael Sabatini

The Camisade

EAN 8596547322511

DigiCat, 2022

Contact: [e-mail]

Table of Contents

An Episode of the War of La Vendée

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

THE END

An Episode of the War of La Vendée

Table of Contents

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I

Table of Contents

The good folk of Niort had seen the Royalist army march out of their town in the rosy light of the midsummer dawn. A horde some six or seven thousand strong, they had presented a motley but inspiring spectacle to the moist, admiring eyes of the loyal inhabitants. Most of them in their peasant garb--a garb adopted indeed by many who were not peasants--they thundered along in their wooden shoes, all bearing the device of the red kerchief, the consecrated heart upon their breasts, and the white cockade in their round hats.

In quitting Niort they were falling back before the Republican army under Westermann, dispatched by the Convention to make an end of these brigands, these mutinous yokels who had rebelled against the sacred authority of the nation, and who had snatched up arms for God and King--both of which institutions the Republic had abolished.

So the good folks of Niort had crowded to windows and doorways to cheer and speed them, shouting Vive le Roi! until they were hoarse as crows.

That had been at dawn. Now, at sunset, they crowded again to the doors and windows, and again they grew hoarse with shouting. But this time the cry was Vive le République! and the army they cheered was a detachment of the Blues under General Canclaux which came swinging into the town to the tune of the Marsellaise--a martial, orderly legion, vastly different from that peasant horde. This was Westermann's vanguard, some five thousand strong, sent to hold Niort as an outpost of the main army which lay at Nantes.

In a white-panelled room in a substantial house in the Rue de l'Eglise, Maître Falgoux, the attorney, sat moodily listening to the distant shouts of the crowd; he was short of stature and very slim, and there was something austere in the clear-cut, ascetic, wax-like face, in the grizzled tie-wig, the plain suit of black and steel buckles of his shoes. With him, beyond the table which gleamed faintly in the fading light, sat a young girl, whose eyes, dilated now by a certain dread, were as dark pools in the white oval of her face.

Canaille! he said softly, but with unutterable malignity, through teeth that were tight clenched. Who that had heard them this morning could now believe his ears? Ha! He laughed short and bitterly. Long live the King at dawn, and long live the Republic at dusk. The epitome of Frenchmen! Ready to dance to any tune that's piped, ready to feed from any hand, be it clean or dirty.

It is fear makes them shout now, said the girl, defending them, not loyalty, as was the case this morning.

But he was not appeased. Which is to say that they are cowards. And from cowards what can you hope for?

The door opened and a man entered. He was of middle height, broad, powerfully built and bull-necked, with a swarthy, masterful face that was not without a certain virile beauty.

Maître Falgoux sprang to his feet.

Well? he demanded very eagerly. What news?

The new-comer advanced. He set his heavy riding-crop and conical hat upon the table, and briefly announced the strength of this Republican detachment which had come to occupy Niort.

I have all that I remained to learn, he said, and I have but paused that I might take my leave of you before I rejoin M. de Lescure.

And shall you tell him also, Cadouin, of the reception which these dogs have given the Republican rabble? Anger throbbed in the old man's voice.

But Cadouin merely shrugged. What does it signify? They shout 'Live the Republic!' that their homes may escape violation. In their hearts, maître, they are loyal to us, and when we return--as return we shall, and very soon, to sweep this Republican filth out of Niort--they will cry 'Live the King!' once more and with redoubled energy.

That is what I have been saying, exclaimed the girl, glad to have her faith confirmed.

He turned to her, and his dark eyes smouldered. He made her a slight, deferentail inclination, which lent a certain courtier-like grace to his clumsy figure. Then, mademoiselle, he said, you have proved yourself as wise as you are lovely.

Her eyelids flickered and her glance fell away before his devouring gaze. She drew back a little, beset by a confusion that obviously was not pleasurable. The compliment was gross and clumsy; moreover, her attitude must have made it plain to any man of insight that compliments from this visitor were not desired. But there was no man of insight present. Her father turned slightly aside, as if not to intrude upon what he conceived to be a private matter between his daughter and Cadouin, and occupied himself with his snuff-box.

I pray you may be right, he said. But their vile behaviour savours of cowardice, and I do not like cowards.

Oh, not cowardice, but a wise discretion, said Cadouin, smiling. Just such a discretion as bids me not to linger here in obedience to my ardent wishes. And again his eyes sought the girl's face, but sought in vain, A slight frown drew his dark brows together. "Already I