Montbar kicked off his heavy boots and sprang into the saddle.
"My compliments to the First Consul, Monsieur de Montrevel!" cried Morgan.

Then, turning to his companions, he cried: "Scatter which way you will, you know the rendezvous for to-morrow night." "Yes, yes," replied ten or a dozen voices.
And the band dispersed like a flock of birds, disappearing down the valley into the shadow of the trees that lined the banks of the little river and surrounded the Maison-Blanche.
At that moment the gallop of horses was heard, and the escort, alarmed by the pistol shots, appeared on the crest of the hill and came down the slope like an avalanche.

But it came too late; it found only the conductor sitting dazed by the roadside, the bodies of the colonel and of Fouche's agent, and Roland a prisoner, roaring like a lion gnawing at the bars of its cage..