Having done so, I returned to my uncle, and said to him,—"Uncle, the bishop has gone away in great wrath, vowing that you shall repent of your conduct."
"And when I would have made way for him," said my aunt, indignantly, "he called me a bad name, and looked as if I were the very scum of the earth."
"Ah, he does not recognize marriages among the clergy," said my uncle, calmly. "Never mind him, my good Dorothée; he'd be glad enough to have a wife of his own, and seeing me so much better off than he is, makes him captious and querulous. Come and shake up my pillow, for my poor head aches sadly. I will try to get a little sleep."
At that instant, a loud trampling of horses' feet was heard, together with the jingling of spurs and the clanking of armor.
"What's that?" cried Aunt Dorothée, running from the bed to the window, and pulling back the little curtain, "Ah, le beau spectacle! Look out, Jacques!"
It was indeed a fine spectacle, as far as mere outward splendor went, to see a troup of cavalry in blue and burnished steel, on powerful black horses, ride proudly by, making the very earth shake under them; and many children, attracted by the sight, ran towards them, shouting and throwing up their caps; but when I looked at the ferocious faces of these men, seamed with many an ugly scar—their lowering brows, their terrible eyes, their sour aspect—I felt they might be as dreadful to face in peace as in war. I watched them out of sight, and then placed myself beside my uncle, who, with closed eyes and folded hands, was endeavoring to sleep. My aunt went below to baste the poulet for his dinner. The house was very still; nothing was to be heard but the ticking of the clock.
All at once I heard heavy feet tramping towards the house, and a confused medley of rough voices. The next instant, the house door was battered as if to break it in, which, being of solid oak, was no easy matter. The door being opened, I heard a faint cry of terror from my aunt, and a brawling and trampling impossible to describe. I looked down from the stair-head and counted forty-two dragoons, trampling in one after another, till, the house being of moderate size, there was hardly room for them to stand. Yet they continued to pour in, jostling, pushing, and elbowing one another, each trying to shout louder than his comrades, "Holà! holà! House! house!—Give us to eat! Give us to drink!" with frightful oaths and curses.
"Good sirs, a moment's patience, and you shall be waited on," cried my terrified aunt.
"To Jericho with your patience! We wait for nobody. I decide for this poulet," said one, taking it up hot in his hands, and bawling because they were burnt; "dress two dozen more—cook all you have in the poultry-yard, or we will cook you."
"I claim my share of that poulet," says one.
"Why not have one apiece?" said another. "Who would make two bites of a cherry? He has gnawn off all the best mouthfuls already. Come, be quick, mistress housewife! Where are the cellar keys?"
"I've mislaid them, good sirs," said the poor terrified woman.
"We'll kick the door open, then. Here's a ham! here are two hams! Ha! ha! ham is good—we will heat the copper and boil them."
"No, slice them and fry them," says another; "they take too long to boil. Bread!—where's the bread? Where's the oven? If it were big enough, goody, we'd put you into it."
"Ha! ha! what have I found here!—a bag of money."
"Divide! divide!" shouted two dozen voices.
"It's mine, I found it!" cried the first. Then they fell to blows, and some of them fell sprawling to the ground, and were kicked, the bag was snatched from the finder, and the money scattered on the floor; then they scrambled for it, as many as could get near it, laughing and cursing; while others ransacked drawers, cupboards, and shelves, and others broke open the cellar door, and began to drink.
Terrified beyond expression, I went back to my uncle, and saw, to my surprise and relief, that he had fallen into a heavy sleep, which was a restorative he particularly needed. On looking from the window, I say my aunt, almost incapacitated by her fears, attempting to catch the poultry, in which the dragoons alternately helped and hindered her, roaring with laughter when a hen flew shrieking over their heads, and then abusing my aunt. They were quickly caught and plucked, and set, some to roast, some to broil, according to their capricious mandates; and then, when everything was in as fair train for their disorderly feast as it well could be (two or three additional fires having been kindled), one of them said, "Let us divert the time with a little good music;" and began to beat a drum.
"Louder! louder!" cried his comrades. "Let's have a chorus of drums!" How they came to have so many, I know not, except that they were brought for the special purpose of tormenting; but they produced six or eight, slung them round their necks, and began to beat them, crying,—
"Now for the tour of the house!"
"Sure my uncle must be dead!" thought I, leaning over him anxiously. But no, his breath came and went, though inaudibly, and had he been allowed to finish his sleep in peace it might have been for his healing.
Instead of this, I heard the dragoons come stamping upstairs, producing a muffled roll on their drums that sounded like muttering thunder. They went into one room after another, and speedily reached that of my uncle, on catching sight of whom they triumphantly exclaimed, "Hah! ha! v'lâ notre ami! Here is he whom we seek, and for whom we prepare the reveille." And ranging themselves round his bed in a moment of time, in spite of a warning gesture from me, it being impossible for my voice to be heard, they simultaneously beat their drums with a clangor that might have waked the dead. No wonder, therefore, that my poor uncle started from his sleep bewildered, terrified, and looking as if he believed himself in some horrid dream. In vain he moved his lips, in vain he raised his clasped hands to one and another, as if in supplication; the more distress he showed the more noise they made, till it seemed to me as if my eardrums would split. In the midst of it all up came my aunt, whose fortitude and presence of mind at that moment I can never sufficiently admire; and with forced smiles and courteous gestures made them to understand, in dumb show, that the first course of their meal was served. Instantly the drums ceased; one of them seized her by the shoulders, and hurried her down stairs before him, the others clattering after him. I turned, and saw my uncle raise his eyes and hands to heaven, and fall back on his pillow.
There was now a lull, while the viands were being consumed; but soon a new uproar arose—the supply was inadequate for the demand: every morsel of food in the house was consumed at one sitting, and yet there was not nearly enough. The dragoons were furious: they gathered about my aunt, pulling her hair, threatening her with their fists, threatening to boil her in her own copper, and set fire to the house, with her sick husband in it, if she did not procure an ample supply. With matchless patience she looked one after another in the face, said, "Attendez, attendez, messieurs, s'il vous plait;" and then, calling me down, bid me go forth and beg of my neighbors as much food as I could.
When wondering much at my aunt's fortitude and self-possession, she afterwards told me that she lifted her heart to God in earnest prayer, and there came to her the comforting remembrance of these words. "Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
Alas! what a scene presented itself out of doors. The people were running up and down in despair; a woman rushed wildly out of her house, and seized me by the arm, crying, "They are batooning my husband!" Another shrieked from a window, 'Help, help, they are killing my father!' Children ran about the streets, crying, "Oh, my father!—oh, my mother!" It seemed a heartless task to be going from one to another begging something to eat under such piteous circumstances; and yet how knew I that as bad or worse a tragedy might be acted at my uncle's if I failed to supply what was wanted?
At length I returned, staggering under the weight of a huge cheese and a bag of chestnuts. And though I was reviled for not bringing them better cheer, yet I pacified them by smiling like my aunt, and echoing her "Attendez, messieurs, s'il vous plait;" and started forth again on my foraging expedition, though very doubtful of having anything to bring back.
How long were these horrible men going to stay? How could we go on supplying their wants at this rate? If their orders were to eat my uncle out of house and home, and drive him and my aunt to distraction, would it not be just as well to let them do so at once, and have done with it?
One and another to whom I applied were so full of their own griefs that I had to listen to what they had to say before they would or could hear a word from me in return. One had been hung up by his feet over a chimney; another had a knife held to his throat; one had seen her little infant nearly strangled; another had been dragged along the ground by her hair. I could not help pitying them sincerely, but not so much as I should have done, but for the sad plight of my uncle. When I, with a kind of wrench, forced the talk into the subject of what was going on at his house, they, through their great love for him, forgot for a moment their own trials in thinking of his; and those who had anything to contribute brought it out, and those who had nothing to spare made up for it in pity. All this consumed so much time that when I got back it was nearly dark, and the house was all in a blaze with lights, for the dragoons had lighted candles all over the house; and some of them were stupid with drink, and lying in heaps; others were rendered quarrelsome by it, and fighting and abusing one another; but as for the drummers, they never ceased. They were at it when I set forth, they were at it while I was away, they were at it when I came back again, and stared at the good things I spread out before them without once staying their drumsticks. I was so sick of it by this time, and so unable to disguise my disgust and anger, that I persuaded myself I might as well return home, for that I could do no good where I was, and things could get no worse without me. So I went up to my aunt, who was then sitting like a stone image, without seeming able to hear or see anything, and made signs of leave-taking. She grasped my hand in both hers, and looked up so piteously at me, her lips moving as if with the words "do not go," that I felt I must stay by her, come what would. For was she not my mother's sister-in-law? and was not my uncle my mother's brother? I made a sign I would remain, on which she kissed my hands; and then I patted her on the shoulder, and could not help letting fall a tear. Then she got up, and bestirred herself for the men, hoping, no doubt, they would intermit their drumming if she could but conciliate them. But as soon as one relay ceased drumming another took it up; and thus, shameful to relate, they continued the whole night without intermission, crowding round my uncle's bed, making his room intolerably hot and close, and pushing in and out of the room and up and down the stairs.
My uncle now lay in a kind of torpor; the expression of his face painful to witness; his wan hands lying outside the counterpane, and now and then slightly moving, which showed me he still lived. Towards daybreak I was so worn out that I dropped asleep as I sat beside him with my face on the edge of his pillow—such deep sleep that I neither heard nor dreamed of the drumming. When I woke, with a strangely confused, unrefreshed feeling, the daylight was faintly making its way into the room, which had no one in it but my uncle, my aunt, and me. She seemed to have crawled with difficulty to the foot of his bed, and there sunk and fallen asleep I went out on the landing—candles were burning in their sockets with a vile smell—the house was full of vile smells and of confusion and disorder—the house-door stood ajar—one or two dragoons lay sleeping heavily on the ground. I went up again to tell my aunt, and found her straightening my uncle like a corpse. At the same moment a dragoon came up behind me. He was going to recommence the disturbance, when I pointed to the bed, and said, sternly, "See what you have done. You may now go away satisfied with having made this lately peaceful family completely wretched. God grant you forgiveness ere you are laid out like those cold remains."
The dragoon looked confounded. He muttered something, turned on his heel, said something to his companions below, and we presently saw them run out of the house. I went and shut the door. On returning I saw my uncle was not dead. Their thinking him so was a mercy, since it gave him a little respite. He was too weak to be moved, but he begged me to return home and tell what had happened to my parents: adding, as I left him, "Do not make the affair worse than it is." I thought it would be difficult to do that.
When I reached home it was some hours after sunrise. The dragoons, just recalled from the Spanish frontier, where they were no longer wanted, were spreading themselves over the country with the express commission to harass the Huguenot inhabitants as much as possible, short of death, but had not yet reached Nismes.
I entered my father's house. Contrary to custom, he was not at the factory, but awaiting my return. He rose when I appeared, and stood silently looking at me, while my mother put her hands on my shoulders, and looked piteously in my face.
"Son, thou hast been out all night."
"At my uncle's, mother. He was ill in bed; the dragoons were there; and my aunt begged me to stay as a safeguard."
"You did quite right to comply, my boy," said my father, heartily. "I trust the dragoons did not misuse thy good uncle."
"I know not what you call misusing," replied I, "if beating their drums round his bed all night did not deserve that term. They almost killed him with their clamor—ate everything in the house—called for more—reviled my aunt—scrambled for her money—broke open the cellar, and drank every drop it contained."
I spoke this so fast as to be almost unintelligible; they listened in silent dismay. My father, then bidding me be seated, desired me to go over the whole matter from the beginning, with composure and method. Having drunk a cup of water, I did so; and we then held a family council, in which it was decided that my uncle, in his precarious health, would probably sink under a similar attack of the dragoons, and that it would be expedient for me to return to him at dusk with a covered cart, well supplied with hay, and to place him thereon and bring him back with me, to be kept at our house, in secresy and safety, till he should be able to escape from the kingdom—"though this would have been an easier matter to effect," observed my father, "before he had made himself personally obnoxious to the bishop."
My father then went to his daily business at the silk-factory, while I remained behind awhile with my mother, to assist her in clearing out a loft for my uncle's reception, the entrance to which could be concealed.
I then paid a hasty visit to Madeleine, whom I found bathed in tears, as she had learnt from my mother that I had been away all night; and though this at another time would have occasioned no alarm, yet at a season of so much uneasiness she had foreboded some sad calamity. My sudden appearance caused a fresh flow of tears, but they were of thankfulness for my safety. A few tender words reassured her. I then gave her a short account of what had passed, taking care, as my uncle desired me, not to make things worse than they were. But still it was evident that he was marked for the victim of a persecution he was not in a condition to support; and as Madeleine had a sincere regard for him, which his character justly merited, she commended me for standing by him, and rejoiced that I was going to fetch him to our house.
"We have not been quite undisturbed, even during your short absence," said she. "Our evening service was yesterday interrupted, just as the congregation were in the middle of a psalm, by several officials rudely entering the temple, and commanding us to desist, because the Host was being carried by."
"In the temper in which those in authority seem to be at present," said I, "it is to be feared that things will grow worse before they mend."
"Meanwhile, remember your father's admonition, I entreat you," said Madeleine; "and, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men."
"Rely on it, sweet Madeleine," said I. "I am a man of peace, not of war."
Cheered by my little interview with her, I proceeded to my usual work, and, after supping with my family, stole quietly forth on my mission.
I reached the neighboring town without misadventure, and, leaving the cart out of sight, raised my uncle's latch and went in. He and my aunt had the house to themselves (for their only servant had gone to her friends); and she was sitting on the bed, supporting his head on her shoulder.
"Here's Jacques," said she, looking up.
"Jacques, my good lad," said my uncle, holding out his feeble hand, "I thank you for this visit, and yet more for staying with us last night."
"You have not noticed any of the dragoons lurking about outside, I hope?" said my aunt, anxiously.
"No," said I, "all seems quiet at present; but there is no knowing when they will return, and my parents have sent me to fetch you away. My mother declares she shall know no peace till she has you under her roof."
"My good boy, I can no more go to her than I can fly," said my uncle.
"Oh yes, uncle, you can. I have brought you a nice covered cart, filled with hay, on which you will lie quite easily, and I will carry you down to it on my back."
My uncle and aunt were most thankful for this, and, after very little preparation, closed the shutters of the little dwelling, and turned the key on it. My uncle was made tolerably comfortable, with my aunt seated beside him; and in this way we stealthily quitted the neighborhood. I could hear uproarious voices in the distance, and occasionally a faint scream or wail, but gradually left these painful sounds behind. To say truth, I was by no means sure of our performing this journey in safety, and had many alarms by the way; and as for my uncle, my aunt afterwards told me he was in prayer the whole of the way, to which might probably be ascribed our safety; for ours is a God that heareth prayer, not when it is a mere babble of words, in a language we do not understand, repeated over and over again, and made a merit of; but His ears are attent unto the cry of the contrite heart, and the prayer of them that are sorrowful.
It was far into the night, or rather near morning, when we reached our journey's end. My father cautiously admitted us; my mother received the fugitives with the tenderest affection. A hot supper awaited them, after partaking which they were thankful to retire to the loft; and not even the children were to know they were there, and the youngest of our two servants had been sent to her home; for my father told me that the dragoons were expected to pay us a visit shortly, when the premises would doubtless be ransacked; "and since your uncle has borne the journey better than might have been expected," said he, "the sooner we can get him out of the country the better."
He then told me what plans he had been devising for this purpose, and that if my uncle were equal to it on the morrow, I should set him and my aunt on their way to a certain point, which, if they reached in safety, they would then be cared for.
"The greatest difficulty," said he, "is about a passport; but that may possibly be procured on the frontier, for the great object of government seems to be to chase all our godly ministers out of the kingdom, that their flocks, deprived of their strengthening exhortations, may fall an easier prey."
While he thus spoke, a noise at the door, as if some one were hammering on it with his fist, made us start.
"Who's there?" said my father, without withdrawing the bolt.
"Your neighbor Romilly," returned the other; and we, knowing his voice, let him in.
"Neighbor, I have traveled far and fast," said he, "and would not go home without looking in to tell you the bad news. They are carrying things hardly at Arles and Uséz, and you had better warn M. Chambrun he is in danger."
My father changed countenance.
"He and his wife are with us at this moment," said he.
"They must depart, then," said Romilly, "and without loss of time, or she will not be allowed to go with him. See, here is a passport," said he, dubiously smiling, "which will do for him as well as the person for whom it was intended. He shall have it."
We thanked him warmly, and after a little more eager talk, he hurried homeward. Day was now breaking, and I threw myself on my bed for a short sleep. When I awoke, my dear mother was beside me.
"Your uncle is awake, and talking to your father," said she, softly. "He refuses the passport, because it was not made out for himself, saying he will not do an evil that good may come."
"This is sheer madness," said I, springing up.
"It is consistency," said my mother. "We are now on the brink of a great struggle between the powers of light and darkness. Those who feel they have no strength of their own to meet it with, and do not care to seek it from above, will probably give in at the very first word—certainly do so sooner or later; but those whose adhesion to God's cause is of any worth, will brace themselves for the encounter, knowing that He can and will arm them for the fight."
"You approve my uncle's making a point of conscience, then, of this?"
"I must say I do, though your father is angry with him for it. Perhaps, during the day, we may yet get him a proper passport; for if the authorities are so anxious to get rid of our godly ministers, surely they will not hinder their departure. However that may be, you are to convey your uncle and aunt towards the coast tonight."
"She goes with him, then?"
"She will not leave him. They have lost all their money, but we have made a little purse for them. Oh, my child, what times are these! You have scarcely had any rest these two nights; but do not forget to say your morning prayers."
And kissing my forhead, she left me, that I might obey her injunction.
It may be said that trade was at a standstill that day. The weaver at his loom, the jeweler behind his counter, the baker at his kneading-trough, all thought and talked but of one subject, the expected visitation of the dragoons.
My father, with vexation, gave me back the passport, saying, "Your uncle will not use it, so you must return it to Romilly."
Romilly raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders when I did so, saying, "What will he do, then?"
"I know not. Take his chance, I suppose."
"Here, take you it," said he, thrusting it into my pocket "He may be glad of it at the end."
It was a sad day. Mothers were weeping over their new-born infants; men were talking to one another in anger and sorrow. The Catholics were already carrying their heads high, and smiling scornfully as we passed them. I thought, "Oh that we were in a desert, all to ourselves, with none to impugn our faith!" But then I called to mind that without needing to be in a desert, people might dwell in happy countries where each man's faith is respected and tolerated. I hoped my uncle would safely reach one of these happy countries; but yet one's native land is very dear after all!
Twilight came; the parting took place amid tears and embraces and benedictions; and soon I was driving my good uncle and aunt towards the coast. We had gone some miles, when a man, scarcely distinguishable in the dark, emerged from a corner and said, "Who goes there?"
I was greatly alarmed, but my uncle, recognizing the voice, said, "Oh, Joseph, is it thou? Whither art thou bound?"
"Fleeing for my life," said Joseph, "as I take it you are doing. It is well you have escaped, though I cannot make out how you come to be so far on the road. I have just left your neighborhood; the dragoons are turning your house out of window."
"Give him a lift, Jacques," said my uncle to me; "the poor man is weary." Finding him to be one of my uncle's flock, I readily did so; the more that his tone and words betokened honesty.
"Sir, you are doubtless going to join your brother-ministers," said Joseph. "Have you a passport?"
"I have not, but I hope to get one on the frontier, or find some other path open to me," said my uncle.
"Let us trust the 'other path' may open, then," said Joseph, "for most vexatious obstacles are being thrown in the way of our ministers on the frontier; they are either refused passports altogether, or such as they are provided with are declared worthless."
"Romilly's passport, then, will be no good," thought I, and I was musing on the moral advantage to my uncle of his having refused to use it from the first, when Joseph in alarm cried—
"Hist—I hear some one galloping hard after us. Let us whip on as fast as we can."
But we had just reached the foot of a heavy ascent, and the pursuer gained upon us, and presently came up panting.
"Is Minister Chambrun here?" cried he, breathlessly.
"Who are you that ask?" returned I. At the same instant my uncle cried—
"Yes, here I am. What is it?"
"What a dance you have led me!" cried the messenger. "I come from the commissioner, who sends you a passport, and desires you to go to Bordeaux as fast as you can."
What a smile broke over my uncle's face!
"Said I not," cried he, joyfully, "that a path would doubtless open for me? Henceforth, my children, never distrust the Lord."
His course was now altered. Instead of making for the nearest coast, now within a few miles, on the borders of the Mediterranean, he decided to proceed with all convenient speed to Montauban, where my aunt had friends, thence down the Garonne, and so to Bordeaux. I could but set him on his way and trust his future course to the same good Providence that had hitherto protected him. My aunt was decided to follow his fortunes, happen what would.
Day was far spent before I got back, my horse having gone lame. There seemed unusual disturbance in the town; I distinguished a distant hum of many voices, and all at once a shrill cry that made me shudder, followed by the passionate wailing of children, and the incessant barking of dogs. I took the back way to our house, where lay our stable, and entering the little yard, saw to my dismay six or eight cavalry horses standing in it. I sprang from my cart and hurried into the house, on the threshold of which my little brother Charles met me all in tears, and cried, "Oh, they're burning mamma!"
I burst into the kitchen; there was a roaring fire on the hearth, which a dragoon was feeding with handfuls of paper torn from our great family Bible; but there were also great billets of wood burning, which threw out intense heat, and close in front of it was placed my mother, penned in with heavy pieces of furniture, while two dragoons in front of her were thrusting their clenched fists in her face, saying, "Now then, you obstinate woman! will you roast like a pig, or say where he is gone?"
My mother looked immovable as stone, but directly I entered, I saw her change countenance a little. My father lay on the ground, bound hand and foot, while a dragoon was preparing to beat him with a heavy bridle.
"Ah, ah, here is the young cub," cried they as I entered; "here is the young fellow that was attending on his uncle!" Then, with more bad language than I choose to repeat, they bade me tell where I had carried him, unless I would see my mother roasted alive.
"Out of your reach," said I, boldly; "so now let my mother go free," and springing towards her, I released her before they could throw themselves upon me. The next minute, we were rolling on the ground, but, as my mother for the moment was safe, I did not mind the blows I was getting, but returned them with a fire-iron that lay within reach. I dealt blows with such a will that for a time I had the advantage, never ceasing to shout, "Never fear, mother! All's safe! he's on the wide sea. Fly with the children and leave me to deal with these gentry."
This so enraged them that they redoubled their violence; no wonder, then, that I was got down at last, bound hand and foot, and my feet made bare to receive the bastinado. Before they laid it on, they put the question to me:
"Wilt thou now, then, recant thine accursed doctrines?"
"What doctrines?" said I, to gain time.
"Those that are falsely called reformed."
"Oh yes, all that are falsely called reformed."
They stood at pause on this, and looked at one another.
"He gives in," muttered one.
"Not a bit," replied another. "He is only lying."
"Well but, mark you, that's no matter of ours," said the first.
"I tell you it is!" roared the second, pushing him aside. "Let me take him in hand. You don't know how to question him." Then accosting me, in a defiant sort of way (he was far from sober), he said,
"Hark ye, young man. Now answer for your life. Give us no double meanings. What is your religion?"
"That which was brought us and taught us by our Lord Jesus Christ."
"Do you believe in St. Peter?"
"Of course."
"And in the Virgin Mother of God?"
"The angel Gabriel called her blessed among women."
"But do you worship her?"
"I reverence her, and worship her Divine Son."
"Do you worship her, I say?" threatening me with the stirrup-leather.
"Son, son," put in my father.
"Silence, old man!" and they hit him on the mouth.
"Do you worship her?"
"I do not."
Then they beat the soles of my feet, till my father in anguish cried, "Oh, I cannot bear this—" but had to bear it. And so had I. But on their burning my soles with a red-hot iron, a merciful Providence took me out of their hands, by bringing me insensibility. How long they pursued their barbarities after I fainted, I know not; but when I came to myself, it was in cold and darkness, lying in the open street, where I suppose they had cast me, thinking me dead. How long a time must have passed! for the stars were shining above me. Where were my parents, my brothers and sisters? I tried to raise myself a little and look around, but was beaten and bruised so that I was in agonies of pain, and sank back on the ground. The cold made my wounded feet smart indescribably; but while, with closed eyes, I was inwardly murmuring, "Lord, help thy poor servant, for I cannot help myself;" something that made me wince with pain, but the next moment gave exquisite relief, was applied to the soles of my feet, and the next instant I heard the hushed voices of those who were dearest to me on earth, my mother and Madeleine "Can it be that we are too late?" said Madeleine. "No, his pulse yet beats, though as feebly as possible. Oh, what he must have suffered, and how I love him for not having given in!"
In pain though I was, a smile of joy broke over my face on this, and I opened my eyes.
"Praise the Lord, he revives!" said my mother. "How art thou, my son?"
"I shall do well, my mother—," but I could not speak another word. I closed my eyes, and felt about to faint.
"Jacques, dear Jacques," said Madeleine, whispering energetically and distinctly, close to my ear, "be of good courage, and God will help thee. I have found a place of safety in the vaults of Les Arènes, whither Gabrielle has already taken the children; and now, if you can but master the pain enough to get there with such help as we can give you, before the dragoons return, we shall all be safe."
"Oh, most certainly I will," said I, trying to rise; but when I attempted to set my feet to the ground, I was in such anguish that I nearly fell down; but what will not "needs must" effect? The poor galley-slaves at Marseilles and Dunkirk can tell how, when it seems impossible for them to pull another stroke, the taskmaster's whip, mercilessly applied, proves that they not only can pull still, but pull well too. I am ashamed to say how these two beloved women had almost to carry me, a stout youth; and even all their strength might have been insufficient but for the potent spur of the dragoons' return. With an arm round the neck of each, and resting almost my entire weight on their shoulders, I managed to scuffle along, very slowly and with fearful pain, towards Les Arènes. We paused now and then, under the deep shadow of a wall, for me to regain my strength. I was astonished at my mother's utter forgetfulness of herself in her care for me; and said, "Were you much burnt, my mother?"
"No, my son; no," she answered, cheerfully; but in truth she was sadly seared and blistered, and her heroism under suffering might be likened to that of the martyrs of old.
"What took place after I fainted?" said I.
"They believed you were dead, and threw you into the road," said my mother, "saying they hoped the dogs would come and lick your blood like Ahab's. After that a trumpet was blown, and there seemed something going on in the town, and they all ran off. The children had meanwhile taken refuge with Madeleine; and I then took the opportunity of raising your father, after cutting his bonds, and sending him off to the factory, whence he was to return with men to carry you away, but they have never come, and I fear some mischief may have befallen him. I would fain have gone to see, but you were my first object. I could not carry you, and went to Madeleine for help. She had just gone with Gabrielle and the children to Les Arènes; but while I was preparing bandages and a liniment for your poor feet, she returned and accompanied me back."
"Madeleine is a good angel," said I, pressing my arm more closely to her.
"What is your case to-day, may be ours to-morrow," said she.
We continued our painful and tedious course, "lurking in the thievish corners of the streets," like evil-doers, if we saw any one coming. The moon was dangerously bright, but the shadows were proportionately dark, and at length we reached Les Arènes, with their depths of mysterious shadow, and solemn pillars and arches silvered by the white beams. Though the amphitheatre is in the heart of the city, the neighborhood seemed unusually deserted. People had fled, or were cowering in hiding-places, or were flocking to see what was going on elsewhere. I cannot otherwise account for it. Only that as we passed near the house of good old Monsieur de Laccassagne, we could hear the abominable uproar of drums within it, and it would seem as if all the drummers in Nismes must have been congregated to drive the poor old gentleman to distraction. We had also seen in the distance, floods of light streaming from the windows of the cathedral, and heard a strange murmur of cries, and we afterwards learnt that multitudes of poor people of the baser sort had been driven like oxen or silly sheep into the church, pricked on by the dragoons' swords and shouts of "Kill! kill!" to be present at mass.
But now, as we gained a spot where, at the end of a street, we could gain a distant glimpse of our factory, we perceived the sky red with flurid flames bursting from it.
"The factory is on fire!" I exclaimed.
Then my mother wrung her hands, crying, "Oh, my husband! you are ruined, perhaps sacrificed! I must go in quest of thee, and leave my son with a faithful friend."
Then she hastened off towards the factory, and I could not blame her nor wonder at her, though my heart misgave me that she might fall into mischief.
Madeleine's support was insufficient for me now; but I set my teeth like a flint, and commanded the pain I was in every time I set foot to the ground. Was it not alleviation enough to have her dear arm for my stay, and her tender hand wiping from my brow the drops forced forth by my suffering?
Then we came to some steps. These gave me much trouble to descend, especially as we were so nearly in the dark, but Madeleine seemed to know them pretty well.
"I have often been here already," whispered she, "only not after dark, and have laid in stores of many things necessary for our subsistence."
We were now groping along a chill stone passage, and were presently brought up by a wall right in front, against which we violently hit our heads.
"I fear I have missed the way," said Madeleine, in alarm. "Hark! I hear the children laughing. Nothing damps the spirits at their age."
The next turn brought us to the entrance of a chamber, or rather den, for it had probably been built for wild beasts, and formerly tenanted by them. A ruddy fire burned in the middle, and circles of smoke escaped through crannies and fissures, for of course there was no chimney. A savory steam arose from a large black pot suspended over this fire, and round it was gathered a motley and unruly group, not Gabrielle and the children, but of tramps, gipsies, peddlers, and very likely thieves. Swarthy Morescoes, Basques, I know not how many nations, were there represented. They were singing, carousing, and making much noise.
"Here's a pretty lady," cried a gipsy woman, as Madeleine shrank back affrighted.
"Welcome, welcome!" cried one or two voices. "Come and make one of us."
"Not so fast," said a dissentient voice. "There's a young man with her. How do we know he is not a spy?"
"Good sir, I am lame on both feet," said I, and was turning away with Madeleine, both of us anxious to plunge into the darkness, out of their sight, when a threatening, swarthy man, of great strength, prevented our departure.
"You are neither of you going," said he, defiantly, "till you give some account of yourselves and your object."
"We are harmless people; we have only mistaken our way," interposed Madeleine.
"Soho! Only mistaken your way? And how come harmless people to be abroad at this time of night, groping about among the vaults of Les Arènes?"
Before there was time to answer, a tall, lean man in black, with a bottle in his hand, which he had just removed from his lips, came forward from a corner, and said. "Hold, there, enough has been said. I know this young man, and, I dare say, this young maiden. We are very good friends. Don't you remember me?" looking sharply at me.
"Not exactly," said I, straining my memory.
"Oh, come, don't deny it. Last time you had the best of it; this time I have. Don't you remember the Fair of Beaucaire?"
"Yes, of course, sir," said Madeleine, readily, "and your beautiful needles and pins and pretty equipage."
The needle-vender looked pleased, and said, "You have a better memory than the young fellow; however, I owe him a good turn. You saved me from the hoofs of le Docteur Jameray's horse, and lent me your handkerchief. I have had it in keeping for you ever since," drawing it from his breast. Then, turning to his companions, he said, "Excuse me; I attend these young persons a little way. They are friends, and the young man is ill."
In fact, my head swam round, and I swooned again, and have no remembrance but of a confused babble of sounds. When I came to, Madeleine and the needle-seller, whose name was La Croissette, were conveying me between them; or, in fact, he was chiefly carrying me, and she supporting my feet. I said, "Set me down, I'll try to walk," but found I could not. Then she said, "Wait here; I'll run on a little, and find where Gabrielle is."
I would have stayed her, but she was gone. La Croissette said, "You seem in trouble; what is it?"
I said, "Don't you know the dragoons are in Nismes? They have tried to burn my mother, have bound and beaten my father, destroyed our property, and cudgelled and burnt me till I cannot stand."
He drew in his breath, and said, "Any one of those things is trouble enough. Is that pretty girl your sister?"
"No; my affianced wife."
"And you have taken to Les Arènes for safety, and left your father and mother behind?"
"Not willingly, you may be sure. My mother and Madeleine half carried me hither. Then we saw my father's silk factory in flames, and she ran to find him."
Madeleine here returned, and said, encouragingly, "I have found where they are; it is a very little way, and they look so comfortable!"
With her help and La Croissette's I dragged myself along, and though it seemed a long way off, we got there at last; and very snug did the old vault look, with the little brazier and the lamp, and the curtain to keep off the draught, and food and bedding on the floor. I sank down on the straw they had prepared for me, and never was couch of down more grateful to a luxurious man than this poor pallet to me. La Croissette viewed the whole party with keenness, then, putting his bottle to my lips, said, "Take this; there's a little left." Whatever it was, it revived me; and then he nodded, said "Bon soir," and went away.
I now became anxious for my parents, though Madeleine assured me they knew the way to our retreat. A long time passed; the children fell asleep; we remained in anxious suspense. At length we heard footsteps. Were they of friend or foe? Madeleine went out to see. I could not bear her taking on herself every office that ought to devolve upon me, but could not help it. In a few instants she guided my father and mother into our dungeon, holding a hand of each. As they entered, the red fire-light leaped up and showed their grave faces. The first thing my father did, after taking us in at a glance, was to say, "Children, let us pray!"
Even the little ones, roused from their slumber, and but half awake, put up their hands. My mother and the girls knelt; my father stood. His prayer began with earnest thanksgiving that we were all together again, and that, though his worldly substance had been taken from him, there was no loss of life or limb. Then he returned hearty thanks that, in this our day of spiritual trial and temptation, there had been no apostacy, no temporizing cowardice, no falling short. But, he added, he knew, and we all knew, that this was but the beginning of sorrows; that many a sore trial and temptation remained behind; that we had no strength of our own wherewith to meet it; but that there was all-sufficient strength in the great Captain of our salvation. Then he prayed the Lord to give us his strength, sufficient for our day, whatever it might be, even as He had strengthened Daniel in the lions' den, and Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace, and Peter and Paul and Silas in prison, and John in Patmos; and that we might have grace to rejoice at being accounted worthy to suffer for his name's sake, and be strengthened to bear testimony even before kings if need were; and to cast all our burden upon Him, not caring much for the things of this life, knowing that he could reduplicate them if it were his will, at any time, as he had done to Job.
While he thus prayed, an ineffable calm and sweetness took possession of me, my eyes involuntarily closed, or, if opened at intervals, only saw vague, uncertain forms, and thus a deep, deep sleep fell on me, without even a dream, that lulled all sense of pain, and loss, and fear, and sorrow, until morning.
"For so he giveth his beloved sleep." Words how beautiful, and true, and reassuring! They that expend all their little strength for him, and lay their little substance at his feet, are his beloved. There is no need to be afraid we are not; we know it; we feel it; we have the witness in ourselves, just as the child, nestling in his father's arms, knows that he loves and is beloved. I have heard persons say, "Have you the faith of assurance?" Yes, thank God, I have it, and have had it ever since He was first graciously pleased to call me to Him, and that was long, long ago. But all have not this faith; just as a man, wanting to go to Bordeaux, may not be assured he is on the road to Bordeaux, and yet he may be on the way thither nevertheless. Then if you have not the faith of assurance, practise at least the faith of adherence. That, at least, is in your own power. Cleave to God exactly as if you were certain of being accepted by Him at last; and thus, fulfilling his own conditions, you will be accepted by Him whether you are assured of it beforehand or not. "Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out."