When the night was nearly elapsed and that Roland had long with-drawn with his troop into the distance, the little escorting band of Camisards was suddenly surprised, out of an ambush, by a considerable multitude of royalists. It was in the direction of Florac, where Vila with his friend had intended to seek a place of refuge, which he deemed safe. The confusion was general, and it seemed, that the destruction of the little troop of Camisards, as well as that of the travellers, was absolutely inevitable. During the firing and cries, Vila sprang from the carriage with pistols in his hand, and the Counsellor of Parliament followed him, without knowing clearly what was going to happen. By the grey light of the morning it was discovered that the attack was given from a valley lying sideways; the travellers were on the heights. The Counsellor of Parliament, who had quitted the carriage the last, saw immediately, that all were engaged in a mêleé, the royalists seemed to give way, when a second troop rushed out of the underwood of whom it was difficult to decide whether they were soldiers, or rebels. Before however the Counsellor was able to gain any certainty, or to form any resolution, the coachman laid hold of him, pressed him urgently to get into the carriage, and as he saw the old man's hesitation, he lifted him into it almost forcibly. "Better without the master, than to perish here with him, he will soon find us again," cried he in the utmost anxiety, and whipped the horses, so that they started off snorting in full gallop over hill and dale. After some time the Lord of Beauvais recovered his recollection and with much argument and dispute, he compelled the obstinate man to stand still again. On the summit of a mountain, from whence they could overlook the whole surrounding country, they awaited the one, who had remained behind. Of the combat nothing more was to be discovered: it seemed as if far in the distance a band of fugitives was flying; but nothing could be clearly distinguished. At length they espied two riders emerge from a copse, who pursued the same road. They approached nearer and the doctor was now seen waving a handkerchief and working his way up to the summit, mounted on a little horse. A young lad with his head bound up was following him. "You did well," cried he, when he arrived at the top, "to retreat immediately at the commencement of the battle; that is dull, insipid business, which does not suit us civilians."
"There Martin, for such is your name, take the nag again to yourself and do what you will with him." With these words he dismounted, and betook himself to the carriage, where he was first obliged to listen to many self-praises from his coachman, who wished to appropriate to himself the whole credit of this clever retreat, and on account of whose over-haste, the Lord of Beauvais abashed, entreated the pardon of his old friend. "It was no over-haste," cried Vila, "but the most prudent that could have occurred, I ought to have remained sitting in the carriage, for my little bit of firing was like a drop in the stream compared to the bravery of the Camisards; with them none of us can engage. These knaves understand no reason, whether balls fly, or swords glitter, it is to them mere pastime, and the smallest boys, who are scarcely weaned from their mother's breast, are just as much infatuated with this devilry as any of the oldest grey beards. I have seen that, for once quite close, which I could not have believed by hearsay; but now that I have witnessed it, it is enough for the rest of my life."
They stopped at a lonely inn to refresh the horses, and while they were enjoying their breakfast the doctor proceeded to relate the sequel of the event to his old friend. "How fortunate." he commenced, "that you were not present at our battle, for only think, your Edmond continued to accompany us, he would not be dissuaded from attending in person to your safety. When the scene now opened he was ever foremost. There was a young lad, who then came forward. 'From whence come you?' shouted the Camisards.--'What's that to you,' answered the impudent fellow,--'You are a traitor.'--'Wherefore insult,' cried the little man, 'honest people act not thus.'--'Hew him down!' cried another.--'Hew me down;' said the hop of my thumb, 'when I would sacrifice my life for you.'--'Who art thou?' was again reiterated.--'My name is Martin, further it is not necessary for you to know.'--Inquiry was cut short by firing and hewing down. It came near me, and I felt a goose-skin all over my body. I had already spent my powder without, perhaps, having hit any one, when the gigantic Lacoste took compassion on my trouble, and hewed down the knaves together as if they had been merely poppy heads. But Edmond who tried to cut his way through to me, got into a desperate mêlée. Two dragoons fell upon him, and struck furiously; but before they were able to hit, behold, my dear friend--the little rascal Martin, cut down one of them from his horse, and shot the other at the same moment almost through the breast, as if the urchin had been accustomed to nothing else all his life long. The stout Lacoste, the dog as he styles himself, was not tardy either, and your son lost neither courage nor strength; the Camisards were like so many devils, and thus those of the true faith were obliged to leave the field to us, on which a great number of their friends remained lying.--I could not discern my poor, dear son; he may very likely have gone with the main body of the troops; if they have not already slain, or taken him prisoner."
"And Martin! the boy, of whom you spoke, who so valiantly saved my son's life?" inquired the Lord of Beauvais.
"Martin;" cried the doctor aloud: "where then do you hide yourself? yes, that's true indeed, you are both indebted to the stripling. He wore, when he entered, a thick handkerchief round his head, it may have been from a blow that reached him; after he had rescued your son, he received a right deep cut in the head again from a sabre, so that a stream of blood gushed out. As if for a change, he wiped his nose and without ceremony bound a second turban over the first, though he turned ghastly pale from it.--Martin! Where then is the rascal!" But there was no one to answer his call. "Thus is it with foolish youth," said the doctor vexedly: "he has misunderstood me about taking back the horse, and in his simplicity returned immediately. Poor youth! I trust no fever may be added to it."
"It would make me miserable," said the Counsellor, "if I should not be able to testify my thanks to the dear boy. If I were persuaded that he was suffering, ill, helpless, or dying, I should weep tears of blood."
"It will not turn out so bad as that," muttered Vila chagrined: "Why should the oaf run off thus, as if----Aye! Aye! at least I would have bound up his wounds for him. But now, the devil will not catch him directly. Such Camisard webs are usually formed of very tough materials."
"They were compelled to proceed again, in order to reach with safety the solitary village in the mountain heights." "You must know," said the doctor, when they were again seated in the coach, "that it is merely to an old maidservant of mine I am now conducting you, a simple person, who served me long, but who is, however, so faithful and honest, that it is almost a scandal, what perhaps many free thinking exquisites would say of her. She has married a gardener, or peasant, who also plays the surgeon in the mountains. There you will pass for an old invalid cousin, whose house and farm the Camisards have set fire to; you will find your daughter there already, the intelligent child however must not betray you; the husband and wife would suffer themselves to be torn to pieces rather than give out any thing else of you. If you will but sit half an hour in the room with Barbara, she herself will take you for her cousin, and there will be no further necessity for lying. That is why such things often succeed better in this class than in a higher one: education they have none, but they possess the proper capacity for belief. Only lose not courage yourself, and in that solitude there do not become a timid hare's foot. All may yet be well." With these and similar conversations they, at length, arrived in the afternoon at the village in the centre of the mountains. The houses lay dispersed midway, or above the declivity of the mountain; each had a garden and shrubbery attached to it, and the church situated on the highest point, looked down on the lowly cottages. The little dwellings after which the travellers were obliged to inquire, stood at the extremity of the village, immediately over a rapidly flowing brook, a kitchen-garden was in front and a few chesnut, ash, and plantain-trees spread a shade and freshness around. When the travellers alighted, the rather elderly hostess advanced to the little vestibule to meet them. "Welcome! right welcome!" said she half jestingly, but with the heartiest good will: "So the old gentleman is my cousin? I rejoice in the acquisition of his relationship." "Where is my daughter?" asked the Lord of Beauvais.
"Hush! hush!" said Barbara with a significant look; "my little cousin sleeps in the room above--which you too will now inhabit, my much honoured cousin."
"That's all right," said the doctor: "only study nicely your expressions; and what is sick Joseph doing?"
"Ah, heaven!" said the old woman, he did not get over his fright, "the poor man has died at the next village below there, for when he was obliged to make off so quickly, helter skelter with my little cousin, and had lost his master, who had taken another road, and that the police officers became so troublesome, and the militia would also interfere, then all that affected his liver and spleen, and he died of it.
"Poor Joseph!" sighed the Counsellor.
"But pray, make yourselves comfortable," pursued the old hostess,--"sit down then cousin, poor man, there on that soft chair; you must now forget, that you were formerly accustomed to anything better."
"Well," asked Vila, "and the household, how fares it? what is your husband doing?"
"Thanks for the kind inquiry," answered the chatterer; "Ah! dear God! nothing can be done with him, he will remain a boaster his life long."
"Wait until he comes a little to years," said Vila, "his petulance will then pass away."
"Ah good heaven!" exclaimed she, "he is already past fifty; it does not depend upon that, God has permitted him to arrive at years of discretion, youth no longer oppresses him, but he is past all hope of amendment."
"Is he idle then? or does he squander your substance?"
"No," continued she quickly, "that must not be said against him, he spends nothing on himself, scarcely will he allow himself the extreme necessaries, and as to running about, working and lending a hand, he is not remiss, but he lays by no store. Indeed times are no longer as they were formerly."
"You get no profit then?"
"Just so, most respected doctor. Look you, here among us in the country, my old husband is called nothing, far and wide, but the clever man. Where an animal is sick, where a man is infirm, there is he called, and it must be true, that heaven has placed a very peculiar blessing in his hands, for almost whatever he merely touches becomes better. Where his misicaments, or his proscriptions fail, he is then compelled to have recourse to symphonies, or what you call the sympathretical system, and that is always among the peasantry most liked and most fructifying."
"You have then learned something from him," observed Vila.
"Should not something have devolved to me in so many years?" replied she modestly. "But if he would only not do so much without remuneration, all would be well and good. Look you, instead of planting cabbage, our little garden is full of learned rampons, and horse radish and onions with Latin names, which he then mingles or distils, as he calls it, and economises powders and opiates out of them that cannot be equalled. But they know already throughout the whole neighbourhood that he is a fool, for they frequently knock him up at midnight and summon him to a sick child, or to a tom-cat or taby-cat that has eaten or drank too much. And when they are to pay, the service is forgotten and there is no money in the coffers. 'They are poor people,' says the good-for-nothing fellow, 'they have already misery enough; and God be praised, we have never yet been in want of bread.'
"Thus was he ever," remarked Vila. "I thought he would become more reasonable, and learn to think a little of himself. He was always too devout."
"Devout!" exclaimed the wife: "ah heavens! your honour, we now come in earnest to the foul spot. No, Monsieur Vila, religion, or what people so call christianity, he is utterly deficient in."
"How then has he thus fallen into error?" asked the old man.
"The Lord knows best," answered she, "who has created him so confused. He will ruin himself yet with his curing. Look you, it is not alone his companions of the faith, the Catholic Christians that he succours without remuneration, if they only give him the least hint of poverty; nay also--God be with us--the Huguenots and even the Camisards he attends, as one of us, if he can find an opportunity. The wounded whom they ought to have taken off to Florac swarmed here; look you, the God-forgetting man quartered, healed and fed them and occupied himself so much with them, that they were able afterwards to run off in health, and I will not answer for it, that he did not also give them money and the worth of money to take with them on the road. No, not a spark of true genuine faith and of proper christianity is in the man."
"He is probably a sort of Samaritan," said Vila affected.
"You are right, good sir," continued Barbara, "Samariter, or Samoid, and if he only does not turn out an anibaptist in his old days. Would you believe it, six weeks ago, when they gave up so many of those poor sinners to justice at Florac, thither did he run the first, and bound up the wounds of the sick and set their broken limbs. Husband, said I, they will certainly be put to the wheel, and hanged, there is nothing more to heal in them. Then said the simple fellow, God or nature had taken so much pains to suffer their joints, bones, muscles, and I know not what else to grow, that one is obliged out of charity to spare and take care of them as long as they will last. Look you, he has such enthusiasm stuff in his head that, as the saying is, he is Jack in every corner, where there is only any thing to doctor, should it even be the greatest criminal, there he is."
"I shall read him a sermon on that point," said Vila.
"That's right!" cried she joyfully, "scold him a skin full, for he always says, that I am too stupid; and my persuasions tend to nothing." The woman had got up several times to look at the little bed. "Perhaps, you have a sick child there?" asked the doctor.--"Child!" answered she somewhat mockingly! "quite otherwise! only look at the present!"--when she removed the cushion, there lay a cur dog with bandaged paws.--"The history," commenced the narrator, "correcterises exactly the simple man. The people about here often make him their laughing stock, because he is such a good-humoured, easy fellow; and so the smith at length gave him his dog to doctor, having in a passion broken its hind-paws in two with a hammer. My Godfred wrapped up the dog and dragged it home to me, bound up its wounds himself, laid him down, raised him up, suffered him not to run about, bound the cushion tight over him, made him a kind of maskinnery for his legs, because he said the dog would not be taken proper care of at home, and that he must have it under his own eyes. Well, my good smith's dog became healthy again, and went off without saying good day, or by your leave. That may be about two months ago; last week, towards evening, something came scratching at our room door; come in! no one opened; but the scraping and scratching continued: so my Godfred opened the door and looked out, in springs our old smith's dog like a fool and behind him came hobling the diseased thing, the cur there with a broken leg dragging behind him, and the smith's dog danced and sprang round my husband, as if to beg, and thus supplicated him that he would also doctor his comrade. In my rage, I seized the botanix stick from my old man to cudgel the curs out of the room. But he, as if affected, said, 'Never could I have imagined so much understanding and gratitude in a dog,' and immediately took him in his arms, examined his foot, bandaged it, and busied himself about the animal. Gratitude! cried I, you call it thus, if the bull dog recommenders you to the cur which will afterwards spread the story about among all the dogs in the country, so that finally with all the fame of dog-pratix, you will no longer be able to stand, or walk? But all in vain! there is the beast, and I must attend to it, when the old fool is not at home."
The husband now returned, his arm full of herbs, which he immediately carried into a closet; he then saluted his guests quietly and affably, and before he sat down he looked after his four-legged patient, which in gratitude licked his hands, and looked fondly in his face. With the greatest composure and as if there was nothing remarkable in it, he rebandaged the foot, placed the invalid again in its bed, which he also bound fast, then pressed its head down on the cushion, as if to intimate that it must now go to sleep. The dog seemed also to understand him, for he only blinked a few times up at his benefactor, and then resigned himself to sleep.
"Your wife here," commenced the doctor, "complains of you, that you do not think enough of your own concerns, you cure every body, even dogs and cats, and receive nothing for it, for this dog as little as for the former; have they not paid your bills yet?"
"I made none for them," said the old man with the driest gravity.
"Then I must make them out for you; you negligent fellow!" exclaimed Vila vehemently: "What; write out prescriptions for nothing? truly you degrade our whole art. Take this then on account of what the poor sinners, the wounded, the beggar-train, and the oppressed race of animals owe you up to the present."--He threw to the astonished and perplexed individual a heavy purse of gold, and without waiting for his thanks, he hastened out, and was already seated in the carriage before the rustic practioner had recovered from his astonishment. The Lord of Beauvais gazed with emotion after his rapidly departing friend.
The father went up to his daughter, who now awaked from her refreshing sleep. The little girl, in a flood of tears threw herself into the arms of the new comer, and was never weary of kissing his hands and cheeks: it seemed as if it were a necessity for her to indulge this once, in an unrestrained declaration, and expression of her love. "Man, indeed," thought the Lord of Beauvais within himself, "has nothing else but these poor tokens, or the action of alleviating sorrow, and administering food, clothing the naked, or affording warmth to the freezing: perhaps it may be that in a future state spirits intermingle in love." When both were more composed, the father said, "Eveline, you have ever been a sensible child, but now you have an opportunity of shewing it in deed for my safety; and for your own also. Never must a word escape your lips here of our former residence of my friends, or of your brother. When we are both quite alone, you may then talk of these things, but below, or when anybody is present, you must ever be the little cousin of our good hosts. Be therefore in company rather perfectly quiet, or try to accommodate your behaviour for a short time to these people; for your father's life depends on our not being discovered and spied out in this place of concealment." "My dear, my poor father," said Eveline, "all this will not be difficult to me, now that you are with me again. You know well how our great Hector always looked up to my brother, or to Frantz, and from a sign understood, when he was to go, to stay, to lie down, or to eat; the animal has never once made a mistake: Now, dear papa, thus will your little pet dog attend to the slightest sign from your dear eyes and understand, and conceive everything. I was not allowed to speak of many things in the presence of my brother, many things that Martha related I was unable to tell you, because you were angry with my nurse formerly; one must, indeed, learn from childhood to suit one's self to the world. But shall we see Frantz and Hector again? my brother too? ah, it has ever floated in my mind, that he would one day become downright godless; for no good can come of it, when men approach God as it were too rudely."
The father descended again, and was very much surprised to find a newly arrived guest in his host's room. Old Godfred was at that moment employed in dressing two deep and dangerous wounds in the head of a young lad, who seemed scarcely fourteen years of age. "See now, cousin," cried the talkative Barbara, turning towards him, "as I told you, our Sam-Rocious, as the old gentleman called him, a short time ago, is again seized with a vertigo, a real vagabond, as they call such deserters; who asks here in the village after such and such an one, after a coach and strange travellers, and immediately our dealer in herbs there brings him to our house, because he has something to cure, which is once for all his greatest passibility." The Counsellor of Parliament listened not to the chattering, but examined with the greatest attention the handsome countenance and noble expression of the stranger, who seemed to be yet almost a boy. This sight attracted him the more, as the supposition occurred to him, that this wounded youth might probably be that Martin of whose astonishing fearlessness the doctor had spoken. Emotion and gratitude mingled therefore in those feelings of sympathy which drew him towards the sufferer, and he only waited for the others to retire to interrogate him. The surgeon Godfred seemed dissatisfied at the appearance of the wounds, he comforted the youth, and cut his short brown hair still shorter, and stroked his handsome head with tender sympathy. "The Lord has blessed us with money," exclaimed he aloud, "it shall benefit you, not only thee, I was going to say, dear old cousin, but this young patient here as well. I will run directly to the town and fetch better food, for wounds must not be neglected by any means."
A gaunt, haggered-looking man, in a tattered uniform entered, the surgeon sprang joyfully to meet him, and shook his meagre hand so heartily, that his long arm quivered with emotion, and a grim smile of affability passed over his pale face, under a large hat, which he still kept on. The new comer who now perceived the Counsellor, took off his hat, and said: "I did not know, gossip, that you had strangers."
"Not exactly strangers," immediately replied dame Barbara, preventing her husband's reply, "but a dear cousin of ours, Mr. Peter Florval, who possessed a pretty house and garden below there in the fruitful Camargue. The antichrists, the rebellious Camisards have plundered and burnt every thing, and it was with difficulty that he saved himself with our little cousin; he will now remain here contenting himself with our poor house until better times." The stranger drew near, and said solemnly, while he extended his hand to the Counsellor with a certain majestic air; "Venerable Mr. Peter Florval, be but at peace and let not your spirits flag, these times will pass quickly and in less than a year you will be happy again. I have had dreams, which have predicted this and still more to me, and my dreams never deceive, as I know how to give them the right interpretation. The abominable Cavalier has appeared to me, I could have painted him; behold: a head taller than myself, broad, muscular as a hercules, moustaches that he might have twisted twice round his whole head, which he did too, several times, to make himself look still more terrible. He came up to me, he had a guard's uniform in his hand: sergeant, I shall be once more under the banners of the royal guards, and that shall be the sign, that this day twelve months I shall wear this uniform, and then peace will be in the land, for without my supernatural giant-strength the rebels would be unable to do anything, and would be obliged to surrender. Remember Gerard Dubois, my good Peter, when the thing comes to pass."
Without paying particular attention to the speaker, the surgeon had again devoted himself to the invalids for whom he had also made up a bed in the hay loft. He looked after the dog too once more, then gave his hand to the Counsellor and fetched his hat and stick. "I will go with you," said Gerard, "if you do not botanise, for I cannot endure that cursed stooping and mountain-climbing." On learning that the walk was only to the neighbouring market-town, he took leave, rejoiced to have an opportunity of accompanying his gossip.
"Look you, dear cousin," commenced the old dame, immediately again, "that great herculus is also the cause, that my old man will not be anything as long as he lives. He seduces him fearfully to idleness, because he himself has nothing to do. He has been formerly a dreampeter in the royal guards, but as he was weak at the chest, he obtained his discharge and a pension, and with a small fortune, he plays the nobleman here, and gives himself such intolerable airs, that he addresses almost every body with familiarity. He was so enamoured with blowing, that they were obliged to pull the dreampet forcibly out of his mouth, for he is phthisical, properly hictical, as my old man calls it, for he looks wicked enough for it. Now the great beast stalks about here, and no one can bear him, because he is so very haughty and moreover wearisome and quite ennuiyant when he speaks of his forefathers. My good calf, however, will suit him, he might easily speak and listen to him in his leisure hours, and often may be thinking of other things at the same time; but this is not the case, he has nothing to think of, and is delighted when the bully goes on with his gasconading to him. Only think, cousin, because he is not permitted to blow any more, he whistles, or lisps a little with his tongue all his old dreampeter airs for hours together into my husband's ears; when he tells of campaigns, at times, with his mouth screwed up, he imitates the sounds of appelle, and retreat, the attack, every thing; or he beats it with his long stork-fingers on the table, which then is to represent the dulcimer or the harpichord, and thus does he play the harpichord as it is called before my old husband the live-long day and he talks of x sharp and z soft, and crosses and stories of fughes and passages, such gibberdish, that one might loose one's senses, looking at these two fools wasting their time. The lanky fellow frequently assists in searching, for herbs, and makes out of old rags a lineament for wounds, or cooks a mixture, and syrup quackery, and as they are almost always together, he seduces my old husband away from me. They will no longer suffer the long Urian in the public-house, because he drives away all the guests with his blowing and harpchord playing, even the common people are wise enough for that, my Godfred alone suffers himself to betaken in. But this quick dreampeter-blower is an arrant rogue. He tices my old husband out of his chimistical experiments and begins to doctor patients, but he principally makes use of symphonies, which besides is much easier when one is once in the way of it, and the silly peasants therefore begin to have faith in the spoil-trade. What does a physician know of symphony; books and study appertain to that, and no little dreampeters. Moreover, he is for ever telling his stupid dreams. The times are so very bad, because now children, and old people, women and maid-servants, almost every one in the country, when they at once gave up the faith, began with prophecying and prediction to prepare misfortune; formerly my husband was asked this thing and that, he also looked at the hands to see whether they would get rich husbands and so forth; he drew their line of life longer, once even he cast the Hurenskorp of a right noble lady, yonder in Florac, for he was much renowned at that time; but since this new-fashioned superstition has arisen, hardly any one inquires after him, all tell their own fortunes, or run to the unbelieving children, and what can these urchins know of philosophy or chiromantic and particularly of the stars; as if one only needed to take a horn in the mouth in order to obtain any knowledge of astrology and of all the abstract or dried-up sciences; for which purpose a great deal more is required." The old dame would have still run on, if she had not thought that she heard a pot boiling over in the kitchen; she ran therefore hastily out, leaving the Counsellor of Parliament alone with the young man. "My son," began the Lord of Beauvais, "could you be the same of whom a friend of mine has spoken to me? perhaps your name may be Martin?"
"It is so," said the youth; approaching nearer and seizing the Counsellor's hand, over which he bent with deep emotion.
"And this blood."----
"It is mine, mingled with that of your son." "Thanks then," exclaimed the father and embraced the youth much affected. "You know then who I am?"
"Yes," replied Martin, "in the fight your son pointed you out to me; Vila spoke of you, and now, my honoured sir, as I have discovered you, as I enjoy such kind care here, and as I shall soon be cured, grant that I may remain by you, and be your servant. Your domestic household is far from you, flown, dead, your tender child requires more affectionate, more gentle attendance, than these people here, with all their good will, are able to bestow. I shall be wretched, if you reject my petition."
The Counsellor gazed long on the youth's dark, sparkling eyes. "My dear, beloved son," said he then, "I am indeed bound to you by the dearest ties; oh, ought I not call it friendship cemented with blood? How shall I command you, as you are here the guest of our benevolent host? I dare not now have any attendants, I must conceal myself, I must appear as a poor man of inferior condition. Would you wish to belong to me, so that I might put full confidence in you, you must give me further knowledge of yourself. Who are you? from whence come you? your appearance is too refined and delicate for service to be your vocation; this small, nobly-formed hand has not yet been hardened by any labour, your pale face has never yet been exposed to the inclemency of the seasons; tell me then what is your parentage, your name, how you became a member of this unfortunate rebellion?"
"Dear, beloved, paternal friend," said the pale Martin with a gush of tears, "did you but know the excruciating pain you give my heart by these questions, you would spare me. Will it not suffice, that I venerate your family, that it has long been my desire to be at your beloved side? you can guide, you can reform me; let my whole life be consecrated to you. I can, I dare not return, they would seize and sentence me to an ignominious death; my brethren too, the Camisards, distrust me and hold me for a traitor. Why put my poor parents to the blush, by naming them at this moment? They brought me up with tenderness and affection, and the more bitter must their sorrow be, to behold me degenerate, and liable to be executed. They are wealthy, but not of such high rank as to have their name disgraced by my humble services in my attendance on the noblest of men."
"I will believe you, young man!" cried the Lord of Beauvais; "could such an eye as that deceive? Be to me in lieu of child, of son, perhaps soon----." He could not proceed from emotion, and Martin also appeared deeply moved.
The repast was served up and Godfred also returned from his wandering loaded with poultry, and delicate vegetables, Eveline descended, who in her peasant's attire appeared very attractive; the Counsellor placed a chair for Martin, by the side of Eveline, saying at the same time, "My dear cousins, this young man belongs to me, he is related to me, and whatever expenses you may incur for him, I shall return to you again: only do me the favour to call him also cousin Martin and be kind to him."
"Aye! aye!" Smiled Barbara, "last week, I could not have supposed, that all on a sudden my family would thus increase, sit down then, cousin Martin, and you Godfred, take care only not to make blunders before strangers." Grace was said, and the little Eveline made the sign of the cross, just as gravely as she saw the old people do; Godfred had prepared a separate soup for the invalid Martin, and would not allow him to eat of such meats as he deemed injurious to him. Godfred spoke little, he seemed as if he had almost entirely renounced the habit of speech in the society of his too loquacious spouse, but on that account he had imbibed the peculiarity of frequently expressing aloud, when a pause occurred, whatever was at that moment passing in the train of his thoughts, for he listened but seldom to Barbara's wonderful phraseology.
"The fever will now be kept under," said he; just then Martin perceived that he was the subject of discourse, and the Lord of Beauvais would willingly have inquired more closely into the state of the invalid, if the dame had not again launched out into narrations and far-fetched ideas.
"A little deeper and all would have been over," continued Godfred.
After the repast, Martin, for whom a room had been prepared near the Counsellor of Parliament, lay down. The rustic doctor, who had already fed the dog, now examined his wounds; Eveline and her father retired to the room up stairs.
"Have I done all well?" asked the little girl. "Quite well, my child," answered the father, "I am satisfied with you."
"That is a beautiful rule," recommenced Eveline, "to pray before and after the repast. Why did we not do the same at home?"
"You are not wrong, my child," replied the Counsellor; "for fear of being like tradespeople, or appearing very hypocritical, much that is good is neglected!"
"Ah! what a beautiful prayer the old woman said before dinner," continued Eveline: "All eyes wait upon thee!"--"Do you know too, papa, how at home, when our Hector, or the other dogs, were fed in the hall, all gazed up so fixedly into the eyes of old Frantz? and as he turned his head, so went all the eyes like so many torches, right and left, still peeping at the old man, without ever blinking, until they at length obtained their portions. No other animal, no ox, tat, nor horse can so affectionately gaze into the eyes as the faithful dog. Even the smallest child is ashamed, when it begs so fervently. That sick dog looks thus hungrily at old Godfred, and immediately shuts its eyes, when dame Barbara glances that way. That is indeed a glorious thought, that here, in all towns, in all France, in all countries, and in the whole world, all hungry eyes, young and old, rise up to our Heavenly Father so devoutly, so confidingly, and it must also be pleasing to him, mighty and great as he is, when he beholds prayers and confidence shining from all parts wherever he turns. But indeed all men are not, or perhaps at all times grateful. Ah! dearest papa, how often have I, in my short little life, already been ungrateful to you! Forgive me, pray, good papa, how often have I sulked, when you would not give me a toy, or when you have kept me steadily to work, for then I forgot so intentionly in my ill-humour and wickedness, how much I ought to thank you, how you love me, and care for me. That God exists and gives me every thing, I have often forgotten the whole day long. But I will become better and more reasonable."
The father took his child in his arms, and his heart was gladdened by the prattle of simplicity.
Roland had in the mean while by several successful engagements entirely cleared the higher mountainland of the royal troops. The Camisards were incamped in safety in the woods, and upon the lofty mountain table lands, and all were rejoicing in the hope of soon beholding their worship and liberty of conscience reestablished. Edmond had been but slightly wounded in the last combat, and was now sitting by the side of Roland, that he might converse with him on the probable issue of the war. Cavalier was incamped opposite on the confines of the wood, surrounded by Clary, Marion, and other religious men, who were discoursing on ghostly matters. Upon the most elevated height stood Mazel, the charcoal-burner, Eustace, young Stephen, and a swarm of young people, all in the greatest excitement, for they were expecting the commander Castanet, who on this day intended to conduct Mariette, his bride, from the village below, in order to unite himself with her in the bonds of marriage. "So the God of love," said Lacoste deridingly, "has made his way even to these solitary mountains, and what is still more, into the enlightened hearts of such pious rebels of the woods? The old heathens were certainly quite right to call him, although a boy, the greatest among all the Gods."
"Cease your profitless mockery," said Marion, who had also climbed up to the summit, "our brother has been long since betrothed to her; the poor girl is there exposed to the daily peril of her life, because her connexion is known, here at least she will share the fortunes of her husband, and shall be protected by us; and if marriage be a holy ordinance, why should not the command of the Lord be fulfilled in the solitude of the mountains, under oppression and distress, with a religious, modest mind and christian humility?" "Do not trouble yourself," said Lacoste, "at least no expence or parade will attend the marriage, I think too, that neither bridegroom, nor any of the guests will retire nosily to bed."
At that moment Castanet, his bride and a croud of his friends issued from the wood, Cavalier and all the others advanced to greet them with kindness. The young girl was dark and not particularly tall: a peasant girl of a healthy robust appearance, a little embarrassed at first but in a short time she conducted herself with a composed and easy bearing in the circle of the brethren.
"Brother Castanet," said the tall slender Marion, "it is you that I have to thank for my conversion, but for your early admonitions, I should perhaps now be wandering in error, permit your grateful pupil here in the circle of the brethren; to bless you in your new condition, under the Almighty eye religiously and christian-like." Roland and Edmond had also approached, and Elias and Marion delivered a short, touching discourse concerning their oppression, the distress of the times, and how by reason of the perishable tenure of all earthly goods, and the ever increasing danger, it was expedient to unite together in the name of the Lord, in life and in death; that they might find solace and strength in general consolation of love and mutual perseverance. A simple meal was prepared, and in peaceable enjoyment, the various groups dispersed; while many sang psalms, and others discussed their past adventures. It was announced that a troop was approaching, and the pale, sickly Duplant advanced with a band of men leading a number of prisoners, among whom were Clement and the Vicar, who had again headed the volunteers in an expedition against the Camisards. Roland and the others now arose, and formed a large circle to pass sentence on the unfortunate men. Young Clement trembled violently on seeing himself exposed to the cruel arbitration of his enemies, and the Vicar looked round, to try and discover an acquaintance, to be able to find, at any rate, some means of deliverance, or mitigation of his condition. At length he perceived Cavalier, who with the rest had approached nearer, and cried: "Oh! best of young men, I know not 'tis true, who you may be, but you have, as you know, rescued us formerly, intercede for me now, for I perceive clearly that you must be quite at home here among you comrades."
"Have not you and your fellows," said Roland, with the greatest gravity, "reduced to ashes that same benevolent house since that time, which then saved our brother Cavalier, as well as yourself, and the execrable hermit." "There is not much to say in reply to this," said the priest, opening wide his eyes, "than that I am wondering, that the little delicate fellow should be nothing less than Cavalier."
Duplant said, "The Lord has given you into our hands at the moment that you were in the act of plundering a commune after having slain several of our friends. We came unexpectedly, to the succour of the oppressed, many have fallen, some escaped, but these, forty in number, have become our prisoners."
"Shall they die?"
"Have mercy on us," whined Clement, as he threw himself down before Roland.
"I cannot give you grace," said the latter retiring from the circle, "you spare none of us and with your own free will you urge on to murder: endure then your fate."
"Little man," cried the Vicar, "world-renowned Cavalier, listen to reason and be humane."
"Is it seemly in you to speak thus?" replied the young commander, "you, who revel in cruelty; who has called upon you to dye your hands with the blood of innocence."
Castanet came forward: "Will you, beloved, honoured brethren, deliver the execrable wretches up into my hands?" asked he, looking round the circle. "Yes! yes!" resounded from all sides, "this solemn day belongs to you, annihilate them, command, do with them what you will, they are given up to you."
"Now we are falling out of the frying-pan into the fire," said the priest to Clement, "for the thick, stout, prophecying man will play an ugly game with us, even the gentle Cavalier would not grant us grace; courage! make the best of a bad game, and do not be so chop-fallen."
Castanet took Mariette, by the hand, who was weeping bitterly, for, a short time before, these men had slain, or delivered up her brothers to be executed; "Weep not," said he, with suppressed sorrow! "let us give an example to these miserable wretches, that we think better than they; that our union may not be stained with blood. I pity these poor, these erring men, and this timid youth. Return without danger to you dwellings and preach mercy to your party; refrain from blood and tell your magistrates, who call their cruel bloodthirstiness justice, how much better are our sentiments, how much better we are than they. Heaven will the more readily bless my marriage the less I indulge my wrath and desire of vengeance." Young Clement threw himself again on his knees, weeping with gratitude; the others, who had already given themselves up as lost, followed his example, the priest alone drew himself up after a very low bow, and said stammering with embarrassment: "You are a generous man, Mr. Castanet, and I shall know how to extend your fame, although people are loath to believe anything of the kind of such as you; I however have experienced it myself, and thank you for it in my own name, and in that of these prisoners. Mr. Cavalier, let us commend ourselves to God, au revoir!" "No, not au revoir!" cried Cavalier, hastily advancing, "this may only happen in one way, in the field, and I counsel you with your bold, unblushing manner not to reckon again on our generosity, nor brave our condescending flexibility; for mercy and love are not always to be dispensed, and should we see each other a third time, it will be your death, thus does the spirit prophecy to me."
"Let the spirit rest, Sir Captain," said the clergyman, as he again made a low bow and retired with the volunteers and Clement, who all more or less testified their gratitude and emotion.
Lacoste now came forward and said laughing: "Generosity, as I observe, is common among you, and your turn is come do-day, thick, little stump. Thus every trade, even that of incendiary, has its good side; nothing in the world is perfectly bad, as there is nothing perfectly good to be found in it. To-day, however, there is a greater extension of generosity than what was lately accorded, when I alone remained, though my companions were not a whit worse than myself. But such magnificence suits so festive and splendid a wedding, and the short-legged fellow has delivered his speech in quite a royal style and in a most impressive tone. You, rosy-cheeked, stunted-grown, and brown-armed spouse, be now the Queen and Princess of these mountains. Infanta of have-nothing, Dauphiness of hunger-sufferings, heiress of all the airy castles, and governess of all mad-visionaries, I present you my sincere congratulations, and hope to see you soon rise to the rank of the prophets."
"Scoffer!" said Castanet reddening; "your presence would not suit our assembly, if your speeches were not useful in rendering our humility still more humble, and to make our reproach before men, and our misery still more conspicuous to us."
"That thereby spiritual pride be so much the more glorified! Be not however disturbed in your feelings and convictions by me; compared with a christian, my speech is merely the barking of a dog, and in this animal dignity, I now indeed follow my illustrious patron, the spiritually-minded Edmond, and prophet also by the grace of God."
A murmur arose round about, which probably would have broken out into anger and tumult, had not Cavalier directed the attention of the brethren to a different subject. "My friends," cried he in a lively manner, "I have just had a vision. At this very moment the commandant of Usez has sent a courier with important dispatches to the Marshal at Nismes. New troops are to arrive, and they intend hemming us in on all sides. But little was said, neither could I distinguish all. The enemy has just ridden out of the gates of the city; Bertrand, if thou wilt seize him, thou wilt meet him in the ravine two miles from hence. He is not to be mistaken, he wears a red coat, and a blue cloak over it, in consequence of the threatening rain, he has spread his white handkerchief over his new hat, by these marks he will be clearly enough known to you: he is an elderly man, who, I should think, has never been a soldier. Bring him here safe and sound with his dispatches."
Bertrand took with him two assistants, and mounted on light ponies, they hurried down the mountain towards the well known ravine.
Lacoste listened to these instructions with staring eyes: "Little brother," said he thoughtfully, "if thy information be at all true, thy little finger has more penetration than the whole of my large body. But I still believe, thy red-coated courier will not be found in the circle of created beings, and good Bertrand will have been made a little bit of an April-fool by his general, in order to afford some innocent amusement to the bridal pair. If it's not all a humbug, well and good, more must be said about it when an opportunity occurs."
"May it not be allowed to-day," began young Stephen, blushing up to the eyes, "to play a little on the flute?" while he was yet asking, he took it in his hand, and Roland smilingly gave his assent. He first played a psalm, and after they had gravely chimed in with him, the fair-haired amateur, to please the company, gave a few worldly, airs. The swarthy Eustace, who was now quite convalescent sprang merrily forward, and cried: "Brother! if thou lovest me, play, to enliven me, the old dance of the Cevennes, to which formerly, in my youth, we tripped so gaily."
The young man modestly commenced his melody, and as he received no interruption, he continued to play with renewed vigour, and it was not long before several, castanets were heard with their pleasing clattering, so that Eustace could no longer, resist singing aloud, with the most grotesque gestures, and jumping round the circle highly delighted. The little shoemaker Anton, as well as the still younger François could not withstand so enticing an invitation, they danced as partners, and several other young people came forward to exhibit their rustic dexterity.
An old, careworn man now came from the wood and cried: "As this is to be a day of merriment, suffer then my son, the silly Michael, to receive a little honor; besides, consider his small capacity for prophecying, formerly when a shepherd in the fields, he learned several inimitable capers, which well deserve to be seen. The tall lad has such strong legs, that he can spring almost to the height of a man."
Michael, a robust, tall lad of an idiotic appearance, advanced sneakingly and lazily, turning his little blue eyes timidly and inquisitively round on the circle, and as he thought he perceived no disapprobation any where, he suddenly changed his lagging laziness into the most surprising activity, and jumped backwards two or three yards high, turned head-over-heels in the air, and ran over the ground in the same manner, and was so souple in all his motions, that it was scarcely possible for the eyes to follow his changes. Eustace, in amazement, clapped his hands over his head, and the young lads in admiration tried to imitate their unattainable model. With the loud laughter, which the comical jestures and attitudes excited, the merry Stephen was compelled to suspend his blowing for awhile, and the whole enclosure, when the old and religious men had retired, appeared only a merry, nay, extravagantly joyous company, which the bride, and even the grave Castanet, by their loud applause encouraged to new and still more extraordinary feats of skill.
As the grass was already tolerably beaten down, the dance might be continued with greater safety; and now old Favart stepped upon the level ground, and said: "As we are celebrating a festival to-day, pray permit for once, that the brothers Mark Anthony and Cesar may perform some of their exploits, they think, that they know some more refined amusements, which would contrast very well with the high leaping and peasant dances."
The two ci-devant noblemen after this short preface, exhibited in the then customary dances of the more refined society, but these did not excite that admiration among the spectators, with which Michael had been encouraged; the wilder exertions therefore resumed their place, and the noblemen found themselves compelled to conform to this taste, if they wished to share in the festivity. Many other instruments struck up, a flute resounded, a hautboy was raised, and between these and Stephen's pipe a flageolet was heard, mingled at intervals with the loud and merry song of the mountaineers; now the air of a dance, now old national songs, and merriment and jesting resounded loudly through the wood, so that the cliffs of the adjacent precipices repeated with joyful echo the tones of wild gaiety.
The merry-making, that to-day, once in motion, would have lasted longer, had it not been suddenly interrupted and broken up by a terrible outcry. The fearful sound proceeded from the summit of a pointed cliff, which rose almost perpendicularly over the green sward to the scene of the joyous tumult. All eyes turned quickly thither, and they beheld a demoniacal figure with upraised, extended arms, face, head, and body coloured and besmeared with blood. Once again the lunatic shouted, and then ran and precipitated himself down the steep rock into the arms of the brethren. It was the wrathful Ravanel. "Curse you! curse! ye apostates!" screamed he, "as if mad; that ye thus forget the Lord! Lamenting, mourning, discoloured with the blood of our brethren, of the enemy and with my own, shed in the holy cause, I returned to summon ye to vengeance, and I find the idolators here in the heathenish dance round the golden calf. Thus Moses descending from Sinai, in his wrath broke the tables of the law, as I now in my burning zeal, curse the bond that unites me to ye, ye impious ones!"
They tried to pacify the zealot. Stephen had long since replaced his pipe, the dancers stood at an embarrassed distance, and Eustace, who could as quickly turn from prayer to the dance as from this to that, was already sunk in profound meditation. "My brother," shouted the infuriated man anew, "has been executed to-day at Florac, ten believers have suffered martyrdom with him; I wished to rescue them, but have been beaten back with my brethren with a great deal of bloodshed, and in the mean while we forget our God, our misery, our faith, thus scandalously bring curses on yourselves, voluntarily draw down the malediction of heaven, the scornful laugh of hell voluntarily upon ye,--does no fire then fall down upon the scum? does not the earth open and swallow the iniquitous bands? Howl! howl! ye laden with sin, and roll in the dust, smite on your stony hearts and be contrite before the Almighty, that peradventure his mercy may awaken and a look of grace from the fiery wrath of his eye may light upon ye."
He threw himself down and writhed on the ground. "Mercy! mercy!" roared he in convulsions,--"No, there is no compassion, mercy is a lie, love is no more!"--"Now is woe come upon us!" sighed Eustace, "our brother is again fallen into his ravings! assist me with your prayers, beloved brethren, that his reason may become strong again.--" He threw himself on his knees by his side and prayed fervently. Duplant and Salomon came forward, that they might help the old man in his supplications; but for the present their good intention had no influence on the lunatic, who was exclaiming as if unconsciously, while he was trying to tear himself away from the arms of his friends who were supporting him. "Whither art thou fled," cried he, "lost, wandered away, thou great inexpressible being, whom we with stammering tongue wish to call God? It was a fearful, a terrible event, when before the beginning of time, created spirits in their arrogance rebelled against him, and would be God and ruler and crush and annihilate him. Then he withdrew himself from the rebels through the whole heaven of heavens, through all the starry infinities, through the immensity of space, which thought alone can reach, presentiment alone can fathom, and the audacious ones lonely and abandoned, in their malice, bitter as gall in their wrathful fire, in impotent fury, were transfixed and turned to stone and in their dark interior their last, their expiring consciousness is lost, those are the cliffs, the stony rocks, the deep masses of granite, which reach far into the centre of the earth and still rise up in defiance over clouds and vapour: that is the flesh and bone of the arrogants that the earth is now compelled to bind together as with a cramp iron. Then malice, wrath and discontent as if extinct; Yea, the flame expired, when it should have nourished itself. Was it lost, departed love recovering itself again, which would collect and burst from its powerless state. Figures move in the sea, in the air, and on the earth, and all persecute, hate, kill one another; bloodthirstiness is delight, lacerations, tearing asunder, martyrdom and devourings of one another are raiment and food. Yea, malice is now for the first time awakened into life, if it contracts and unites itself with the sentiment of love, thou hoary darkness of the primeval rocks, and as a lighted brand penetrates into the bones of the snuffing lions and tigers, and roars in the waterfall, that crumbles the mountains and thirst in the fiery torrent, that greedily eats its way to the stream and siding with his brother, the storm, swallows up woods and fields, and mocking as dead spits forth from itself the former existence as dead, cold as ashes."
Edmond turned away with indignation, and said: "Woe to thee slanderous tongue that in perverted folly takest upon thee to disfigure the most holy, and inspirest superstitious rage."
"Why are you thus unjust?" said Lacoste smiling, "it affords me inexpressible pleasure to hear for once so cool and impartial a philosopher reason thus conclusively. One does not meet every day with anything so good." The others became outrageous, and were still more fervent in their prayers. Ravanel foamed and continued crying out: "But how pious is the world, how mildly the brand still searches into the bowels of all! Then man came forth, the image of God, as he calls himself, and now in him hell first broke out in glowing, purple triumph, the loud joyful laugh of inward horror. Whatever subtilty can invent, imagination create, the wildest dream depict, and voluptuousness can attain, will turn into martyrdom, into cutting off the beings that give themselves out as their brother. All the pulses of the everlasting Satan beat joyously. Here is God! exclaims the brood, murder, torture them! here is Christ! roar the others, and slay the adversaries. Does an eye from heaven behold? Do the stars know of us? will the lost, the nameless one after eternity find himself once more in his, by himself accursed creation, and will he not then send forth, epidemics, pestilences, famines, fiery flames, and floods of waters, together with earth-quakes and a thousand all-powerful deaths on white horses, in order to crush this his brood, to grind, to powder into nothing, who scandalously imagine that the sparks of his spirit dwell in them. He, He himself inspires them? Yea no future hell; we are it and live in it, prophecied from the ancient prophets mouth. We dust of dust, we curse of curse!"
Now the prayer of the prophet seemed to operate with greater fervour, for the voice of Ravanel died away, he appeared to sink into slumber totally exhausted, and Lacoste said: "Oh that this pithy syllogism should be thus interrupted, he might have added to the preceding several other arguments just as bold and subtle."
Bertrand now returned with the courier prisoner, whom he had met in the ravine. "Behold," said Lacoste to himself, "all corresponds, either these are slyer devils, than they have ever been considered, or there is some other devilry in the game, which is still strange enough."
The courier, a rather elderly man, was raised from his horse, his dispatches had already been taken from him. "Who are you?" asked Cavalier. "Ah your excellency," stammered the embarrassed man, "Now I am, indeed, nothing but an insignificant ambassador, formerly a surgeon in the royal guards."
"Your Name?"
"Dubois, by your leave."
When he announced himself as surgeon, he was commanded to bind up the wounds of Ravanel and several of the other brethren. Cavalier and Roland discovered from the papers the position of the royal troops, and it was decided to anticipate the attack. As they intended to dispatch a trusty person to reconnoitre the country, Edmond stepped forward and said: "As yet I have not been able to do any thing for you, my dearest brethren, intrust this commission to me." It was granted to him, and he retired to dress according to his own ideas, in a manner befitting his design; Lacoste, who would never separate from him, now pressed forward again as his companion. As soon as they had discussed and ordered every thing, Cavalier proposed, that the courier should be detained until they should have brought their plan to a fortunate conclusion, and Castanet with his young wife repaired to the leafy hut, that had been got ready for them both, while the darkness of night set in.