A strange sight met their eyes as they emerged from the grove on the
Reche.

Night was falling, but it was still light enough for them to distinguish
objects only a short distance from them.

Before Lacheneur's house stood a group of about a dozen persons, and M.
Lacheneur was speaking and gesticulating excitedly.

What was he saying? Neither the baron nor the priest could distinguish
his words, but when he ceased, the most vociferous acclamations rent the
air.

Suddenly a match glowed between his fingers; he set fire to a bundle of
straw and tossed it upon the thatched roof of his cottage, crying out in
a terrible voice:

"The die is cast! This will prove to you that I shall not draw back!"

Five minutes later the house was in flames.

In the distance the baron and his companion saw the windows of the
citadel at Montaignac illuminated by a red glare, and upon every
hill-side glowed the light of other incendiary fires.

The country was responding to Lacheneur's signal.