The civil war, he felt,
was about to be renewed,--doubtless more terrible than ever after a
cessation of three years. The Revolution, mitigated by the events of
the 9th Thermidor, would doubtless return to the old terrors which had
made it odious to sound minds. English gold would, as formerly, assist
in the national discords. The Republic, abandoned by young Bonaparte
who had seemed to be its tutelary genius, was no longer in a condition
to resist its enemies from without and from within,--the worst and
most cruel of whom were the last to appear. The Civil War, already
threatened by various partial uprisings, would assume a new and far
more serious aspect if the Chouans were now to attack so strong an
escort. Such were the reflections that filled the mind of the
commander (though less succinctly formulated) as soon as he perceived,
in the condition of Marche-a-Terre's clothing, the signs of an ambush
carefully planned.
The silence which followed the prophetic remark of the commandant to
Gerard gave Hulot time to recover his self-possession. The old soldier
had been shaken. He could not hinder his brow from clouding as he felt
himself surrounded by the horrors of a warfare the atrocities of which
would have shamed even cannibals. Captain Merle and the adjutant
Gerard could not explain to themselves the evident dread on the face
of their leader as he looked at Marche-a-Terre eating his bread by the
side of the road.
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