The supervisor of the forest section, warned by a guard, came running from Senonches, and with a broken heart witnessed this useless devastation. I was near the general when the forester approached him respectfully, kepi in hand.
"Beg pardon, general," said he. "I can understand the felling of trees on the edge of the road, the barricading of lines of approach. . . . But your destruction of the heart of the old forest seems to me a little. . . ."
But the general interrupted:
"Eh? What? It seems to you what? . . . What are you butting in here for? . . . I do as I please. . . . Who is commander here, you or I? . . ."
"But. . . ." stammered the forester.
"There are no buts about it, Monsieur. . . . You make me tired, that's one thing sure! . . . You had better hurry back to Senonches or I'll have you strung up on a tree. . . . Come on, boys! . . ."
The general turned his back on the stupefied agent and walked away knocking some dead leaves and sprigs before him with the end of his cane.
While we were thus desecrating the forest, the chasseurs were not idle either, and the barricade rose, huge and formidable, cutting off the road at the crossroad. It was accomplished not without difficulty and above all not without gayety. Suddenly halted by a trench which barred their flight, the peasants protested. Their carts and herds became congested on the road, very narrow at this point; there was, therefore, an indescribable uproar. They were complaining, the women were moaning, the cattle were lowing, the soldiers were laughing at the frightened looks of men and beasts, and the captain who was in command of the troops did not know what action to take. Several times the soldiers pretended to drive the peasants back at the point of the bayonet, but the latter
