sprang towards them. But he was instantly surrounded by Marche-a-Terre
and several Chouans. Hulot thought he perceived between the heads
which clustered about this young leader, a broad red ribbon worn
across his chest. The eyes of the commandant, caught by this royal
decoration (then almost forgotten by republicans), turned quickly to
the young man's face, which, however, he soon lost sight of under the
necessity of controlling and protecting his own little troop. Though
he had barely time to notice a pair of brilliant eyes (the color of
which escaped him), fair hair and delicate features bronzed by the
sun, he was much struck by the dazzling whiteness of the neck,
relieved by a black cravat carelessly knotted. The fiery attitude of
the young leader proved him to be a soldier of the stamp of those who
bring a certain conventional poesy into battle. His well-gloved hand
waved above his head a sword which gleamed in the sunlight. His whole
person gave an impression both of elegance and strength. An air of
passionate self-devotion, enhanced by the charms of youth and
distinguished manners, made this /emigre/ a graceful image of the
French /noblesse/. He presented a strong contrast to Hulot, who, ten
feet distant from him, was quite as vivid an image of the vigorous
Republic for which the old soldier was fighting; his stern face, his
well-worn blue uniform with its shabby red facings and its blackened
epaulettes hanging back of his shoulders, being visible signs of its
needs and character.

The graceful attitude and expression of the young man were not lost on
the commandant, who exclaimed as he pressed towards him: "Come on,
opera-dancer, come on, and let me crush you!"

The royalist leader, provoked by his momentary disadvantage, advanced
with an angry movement, but at the same moment the men who were about