finished, and the people had risen.

And then another ceremony was performed; the priests were besought to
come and bless the cannon, the first great trophy of the Royalist
insurrection; and they did so. The cannon was a lucky cannon, a kind
cannon, and a good cannon--a bon enfant, and worthy to be blessed; it
had refused to pour forth its murderous fire against the inhabitants of
a town that was so friendly to the King. It was decidedly a royalist
cannon; it had very plainly declared the side it meant to take; nothing
but miraculous interference on its own part could have prevented its
having been discharged on he people, when it stood ready pointed on the
town, with the torch absolutely glimmering at the touch-hole. It had
been brought to St. Florent by republican soldiers, dragged by
republican horses, and loaded with republican gunpowder; but it should
never be used except in the service of the King, and against the enemies
of the throne.

And so the priests blessed the cannon, and the people baptized it, and
called it Marie-Jeanne, and the women brought out their little children,
and sat them straddle-legged across it, whole rows of them at the same
time, till the cannon looked like a huge bunch of grapes on which the
fruit clustered thickly. By this time it was dark, and the people
lighted huge bonfires through the town, and the children remained up,
and as many as could cling on it still sat upon the cannon, and ropes
were got and fastened to it, and all the girls of St. Florent dragged
Marie-Jeanne round the town, and at last she was dragged into the yard
of the auberge, in front of which the fight had commenced, and there she
was left for the night, under a strong guard.

While these rejoicings were going on out of doors, Cathelineau and