"Those are Vavel's Volons," said De Fervlans, taking a look through his
glass. "I recognize the uniform from Jocrisse's description. Madame
Themire has turned traitor, and sent the count to deal with me instead
of coming herself. Very good! We will show the gentleman that war and
star-gazing are different occupations. He was a soldier once; but I
don't think he paid much attention to military tactics, else he would
not have neglected to occupy yon hill, on which I see a peasant woman
with a red kerchief over her head. That is an old soda-factory--I know
the place well. I should n't wonder if Vavel had concealed some men
there after all! That small body coming this way is evidently bent on a
skirmishing errand. Well, our tactics will be to lure him from his
concealment."
He held a consultation with his subordinates; after which he turned
toward the waiting demons, and called:
"Signor Trentatrante!"
The man came forward--a true type of the gladiator of the Vatican.
"Dismount," ordered the marquis. "Take thirty men, and proceed on foot
to the farther side of yon thicket, where you will lie in ambush until I
have begun an assault on the soda-factory over yonder.
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