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victory was complete.

Gauvain turned toward the men of the battalion of Bonnet-Rouge, and said,—

"There are only twelve of you, but you are worth a thousand."

Praise from the chief meant the cross of honor at that time.

Guèchamp, sent out of the town by Gauvain, pursued the fugitives and took many of them.

They lighted the torches and ransacked the town.

All who could not escape surrendered. They lighted up the main streets with fire pots. It was strewn with dead and wounded. The end of a battle is always heartrending. A few groups of desperate men here and there still resisted; they were surrounded and they laid down their arms.

Gauvain had noticed in the lawless confusion of the rout, a bold man, a sort of nimble, hardy faun, who had aided the flight of others but had not fled himself. This peasant made masterly use of his carbine, shooting with the barrel, felling with the stock so well that he had broken it; now he had a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other. No one dared approach him. Suddenly, Gauvain saw him totter and lean against a post in the main street. The man had just been wounded. But he still held his sword and pistol. Gauvain put his sword under his arm and went to him.

"Surrender," he said.

The man looked at him steadily. Blood was flowing from a wound under his clothing, and making a pool at his feet.

"You are my prisoner," added Gauvain

The man remained speechless.

"What is your name?"