His enemies always believed him invulnerable.
"Surrender!" cried the soldiers, amazed by such valor; "surrender!" "Never! never!" He was truly formidable; he brought to the support of his marvellous courage a superhuman strength and agility.

No one dared come within reach of those brawny arms that revolved with the power and velocity of the sails of a wind-mill.
Then it was that a soldier, confiding his musket to the care of a companion, threw himself flat upon his belly, and crawling unobserved around behind this obscure hero, seized him by the legs.

He tottered like an oak beneath the blow of the axe, struggled furiously, but taken at such a disadvantage was thrown to the ground, crying, as he fell: "Help! friends, help!" But no one responded to this appeal.
At the other end of the open space those upon whom he called had, after a desperate struggle, yielded.
The main body of the duke's infantry was near at hand.
The rebels heard the drums beating the charge; they could see the bayonets gleaming in the sunlight.
Lacheneur, who had remained in the same spot, utterly ignoring the shot that whistled around him, felt that his few remaining comrades were about to be exterminated.
In that supreme moment the whole past was revealed to him as by a flash of lightning.

He read and judged his own heart.

Hatred had led him to crime.