the terrible Cevenol chief, whose name alone made the bravest soldiers
tremble. Cavalier at this period had just completed his twenty-fourth
year, but, thanks to his fair hair which fell in long locks over his
shoulders, and to the gentle expression of his eyes he did not appear
more than eighteen. Cavalier was acquainted with none of the men in whose
presence he stood, but he noticed M. de Villars' rich dress and air of
command. He therefore saluted him first; afterwards, turning towards the
others, he bowed to each, but less profoundly, then somewhat embarrassed
and with downcast eyes he stood motionless and silent. The marechal still
continued to look at him in silent astonishment, turning from time to
time to Baville and Sandricourt, as if to assure himself that there was
no mistake and that it was really the man whom they expected who stood
before them. At last, doubting still, in spite of the signs they made to
reassure him, he asked--

"Are you really Jean Cavalier?"

"Yes, monseigneur," was the reply, given in an unsteady voice.

"But I mean Jean Cavalier, the Camisard general, he who has assumed the
title of Duke of the Cevennes."

"I have not assumed that title, monseigneur, only some people call me so
in joke: the king alone has the right to confer titles, and I rejoice
exceedingly, monseigneur, that he has given you that of governor of
Languedoc."

"When you are speaking of the king, why do you not say 'His Majesty'?"
said M. de Baville. "Upon my soul, the king is too good to treat thus
with a rebel."