diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/64964-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64964-0.txt | 8492 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 8492 deletions
diff --git a/old/64964-0.txt b/old/64964-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 263d01b..0000000 --- a/old/64964-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8492 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of In Exitu Israel, Volume 1 (of 2), by Sabine -Baring-Gould - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: In Exitu Israel, Volume 1 (of 2) - An Historical Novel - -Author: Sabine Baring-Gould - -Release Date: March 30, 2021 [eBook #64964] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: David Edwards, Susan Carr and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN EXITU ISRAEL, VOLUME 1 (OF -2) *** - - - - - IN EXITU ISRAEL. - - - - - [Illustration: (Colophon)] - - - - - IN EXITU ISRAEL - - _AN HISTORICAL NOVEL_ - - - BY - - S. BARING-GOULD, M.A. - - Author of ‘_Curious Myths of the Middle Ages_,’ - ‘_Origin and Development of Religious Belief_,’ - ‘_The Silver Store_,’ _&c._, _&c._ - - - VOL. I - - - London - MACMILLAN AND CO. - 1870 - - - - - OXFORD: - - BY T. COMBE, M.A., E. B. GARDNER, E. P. HALL, AND H. LATHAM, M.A., - - PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. - - - - - DEDICATED - - TO - - THE MEMORY OF THE LATE - - COUNT CHARLES DE MONTALEMBERT - - BY - - ONE WHO, FROM A DISTANCE, HAS LOVED AND ADMIRED HIS LIFE, - HIS PRINCIPLES, AND HIS WRITINGS. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - Page - PREFACE. vii - CHAPTER I. 1 - CHAPTER II. 20 - CHAPTER III. 34 - CHAPTER IV. 51 - CHAPTER V. 65 - CHAPTER VI. 79 - CHAPTER VII. 96 - CHAPTER VIII. 110 - CHAPTER IX. 122 - CHAPTER X. 138 - CHAPTER XI. 150 - CHAPTER XII. 163 - CHAPTER XIII. 179 - CHAPTER XIV. 183 - CHAPTER XV. 197 - CHAPTER XVI. 210 - CHAPTER XVII. 232 - CHAPTER XVIII. 244 - CHAPTER XIX. 260 - CHAPTER XX. 275 - - - - - PREFACE. - - -There is a side to the History of the French Revolution which is too -generally overlooked--its ecclesiastical side. - -Under the _ancien régime_, the disadvantages of an Establishment -produced a strong party of liberal Catholics prepared for a radical -change in the relations between Church and State. - -It was this party which organized that remarkable Constitutional -Church, at once Republican and Catholic, which sustained Religion -through the Reign of Terror, and which Pope Pius VII and Napoleon I -combined to overthrow. - -My object in writing this story is to illustrate the currents of -feeling in the State and Church of France in 1789, currents not -altogether unlike those now circulating in our own. It was my good -fortune, during a recent visit to Normandy, to collect materials for -a history of a representative character of that eventful period,--one -Thomas Lindet, parish priest of Bernay. In writing his story, I do -not present him to the reader as a model. He had great faults; but -one can forgive much on account of his enthusiastic love of justice, -and faith in his cause. - -That my story may be taken to convey a moral, is possible. But let -me disclaim any intention of preaching a lesson to the aristocracy; -I believe that they do not need it. In France, the crown supported -the nobility; in England, the nobility support the crown. The -French aristocracy was a privileged class, exempt from the burden -of taxation. In England, the heaviest burden falls on the holders -of landed property. With us, the privileged class is that of the -manufacturer and trader. The French nobility never made common cause -with the people against the encroachments of the royal prerogative. -The English barons wrung Magna Charta from reluctant John. Henry VIII -would never have been able to consolidate the power in his despotic -hands, had not the civil wars of the Roses broken the strength of the -aristocracy. Since then the nobility have made the cause of right -and liberty their own, and a limited monarchy is the result. - -The moral, if moral there must be, is this: In times when the -relations between Church and State are precarious, coercive measures -are certain to force on a rupture. - -Of late, repression has been employed freely on a portion of the -community, and this has suddenly created a liberation party which -three years ago scarcely existed within the Church and the ranks of -the clergy. - -The English curate is as much at the mercy of the Bishop as was, and -is still, the French curé; and this he has been made painfully aware -of. - -In the Wesleyan revival, a body of earnest men who moved for a -relaxation of the icy bonds of Establishmentarianism were thrust -forth into schism. The first Tractarians were driven to Rome by the -hardness of their spiritual rulers. At present, a party, peculiarly -narrow, and rapidly dying, by means of a packed Privy Council, are -engaged in hunting out and repressing the most active section of the -Church. - -Worship is the language of conviction. To a large and rapidly -increasing body of Anglicans, Christ is not, as He is to Protestants, -a mere historical personage, the founder of Christianity, but is the -centre of a religious system, the ever-present object of adoration -for His people. A passionate love of Christ has floreated into -splendour of worship. To curtail liberty of worship is to touch the -rights of conscience; and to interfere with them has ever led to -disastrous consequences--such is the verdict of History. - -A feverish eagerness to dissever Church and State has broken out -among clergy and laity, and a schism would be the result, were the -chain uniting Church and State indissoluble; but, as events of late -years have made it clear, that with a little concerted energy the -old rust-eaten links can be snapped, there will be no schism, but a -united effort will be made by a body of resolute spirits within the -Church to tear asunder crown and mitre. The disestablishment of the -English Church will present a future absent from that of the Irish -Church. In the latter case, there was an unanimous opposition to the -measure by all within it; but, in the event of the severance of the -union in England, it will take place amid the joyous acclamations of -no inconsiderable section of its best and truest sons. - -If, from the following pages, it appears that my sympathies are with -the National Assembly, and those who upset the _ancien régime_, it -does not follow that they are with the Revolution in its excesses. -The true principles of the Revolution are embodied in the famous -Declaration of the Rights of Man. ‘Write at the head of that -Declaration the name of God’ said Grégoire; ‘or you establish rights -without duties, which is but another thing for proclaiming force to -be supreme.’ The Assembly refused. Grégoire was right. - -Robespierre, Danton, and his clique made force supreme--as supreme as -in the days of the Monarchy, and trampled on the rights, to protect -which they had been raised into power. - -A Republic is one thing: the despotism of an Autocracy or of a -Democracy is another thing. - -I propose following up this historical romance by a life of the Abbé -Grégoire, which will illustrate the position of the Constitutional -Church, of which he was the soul. - -I have chosen the form of fiction for this sketch, as it best enables -me to exhibit the state of feeling in France in 1788 and 1789. That -is no fiction; the incidents related and the characters introduced -are, for the most part, true to History. - - S. B-G. - - DALTON, THIRSK, - _March 25th, 1870_. - - - - - IN EXITU ISRAEL. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - -The forests that at the present day cover such a considerable portion -of the department of Eure, and which supply the great manufacturing -cities on the Seine with fuel, were of much greater extent in the -eighteenth century. The fragments of forest which now extend from -Montfort to Breteuil were then united, and stretched in one almost -unbroken green zone from the Seine to the Arve, following the course -of the little river Rille. A spur struck off at Serquigny, and traced -the confluent Charentonne upwards as far as Broglie. - -The little town of Bernay is no longer hemmed in by woods. The -heights and the valley of the Charentonne are still well timbered, -and green with copse and grove; the landscape is park-like; here and -there a fine old oak with rugged bark and expanded arms proclaims -itself a relic of the _ancien régime_; but the upstart poplars -whitening in the wind along the river course spire above these -venerable trees. The roads lie between wheat and potato fields, and -the names of hamlets, such as Bosc, Le Taillis, Le Buisson, Bocage, -La Couture, &c., alone proclaim that once they lay embedded in forest -foliage. - -On the eve of the Great French Revolution, Bernay was a manufacturing -town, that had gradually sprung up during the middle ages, around -the walls of the great Benedictine Abbey which the Duchess Judith -of Brittany had founded in 1013, and endowed with nearly all the -surrounding forest. The town was unhealthy. It lay in a hollow, and -the monks had dammed up the little stream Cogney, which there met the -Charentonne, to turn their mill wheel, and had converted a portion -of the valley into a marsh, in which the frogs croaked loudly and -incessantly. - -When the abbot was resident, the townsfolk were required to beat the -rushes and silence the noisy reptiles every summer night; but now -that the Superior resided at Dax, this requirement was not pressed. - -After a heavy downfall of rain, the rivulet was wanting to swell -into a torrent, overflow the dam, and flood the streets of Bernay, -carrying with it such an amount of peat that every house into which -the water penetrated was left, after its retreat, plastered with -black soil, and, in spring, smeared with frog-spawn. - -The mill was privileged. No other was permitted in the neighborhood. -When M. Chauvin erected a windmill on the hill of Bouffey, the monks -brought an action against him, and made him dismantle it. All the -corn that grew within five miles was ground at the Abbey mill, and -every tenth bag was taken by the Fathers in payment for grinding the -corn indifferently and at their leisure. At certain seasons, more -wheat was brought to the mill than the mill could grind, because the -water had run short, or the stones were out of repair, consequently -many thousands of hungry people had to wait in patience till the -Cogney filled, or till the mill-stones had been re-picked, whilst the -gutted windmill of M. Chauvin stood in compulsory inaction. - -The great and little tithes of Bernay went to the Abbey; and out -of them the monks defrayed the expense of a curate for the parish -church of S. Cross. This church had been built by the town in 1372, -by permission of the Abbey, on condition that the parish should bear -the charge of its erection, and the abbot should appoint the curate; -that the parish should be responsible for the repair of the fabric -and the conduct of divine service, and that the Abbey should pay to -the incumbent the _portion congrue_ of the tithes. The incumbent of -Bernay was, throughout the middle ages and down to the suppression of -the monastery, a salaried curate only, without independent position, -and receiving from the Abbey a sum which amounts in modern English -money to about fifty pounds, and out of this he was required to -pay at least two curates or _vicaires_. This sorry pittance would -have been miserable enough, had the curé been provided with a -parsonage-house rent free; but with this the Abbey did not furnish -him, and he was obliged to lodge where he could, and live as best he -could on the crumbs that fell from the abbot’s table. - -The parishioners of Bernay had made several attempts to free their -church from its dependence, but in vain. The monks refused to cede -their rights, and every lawsuit in which the town engaged with them -terminated disastrously for the citizens. The people of Bernay -were severely taxed. Beside the intolerable burdens imposed on -them by the State, they paid tithes on all they possessed to the -monks, who assessed them as they thought proper, and against whose -assessment there was no appeal, as the abbot of Bernay exercised -legal jurisdiction in the place, and every question affecting -ecclesiastical dues was heard in his own court. The corn was tithed -in the field, and tithed again at the mill. The Abbey had rights of -_corvée_, that is, of claiming so many days’ work from every man in -the place, and on its farms, free of expense. The townsfolk, who were -above the rank of day labourers, escaped the humiliation only by -paying men out of their own pockets, to take their places and work -for the Fathers. - -It was hard for the citizens, after having been thus taxed by the -Church, to have to expend additional money to provide themselves with -religious privileges. Bernay might have been a far more prosperous -town but for the Abbey, which, like a huge tumour, ate up the -strength and resources of the place, and gave nothing in return. - -The Abbey was also _en commende_; in other words, it was a donative -of the Crown. Whom he would, the king made superior of the monks of -S. Benedict at Bernay,--superior only in name, and for the purpose -of drawing its revenues, for he was not a monk, nor indeed was he in -other than minor orders. Louis XV, whose eye for beauty was satisfied -with a Du Barry, having been fascinated by the plump charms of Madame -Poudens, wife of a rich jeweler at Versailles, attempted to seduce -her. The lady estimated her virtue at a rich abbey, and finally -parted with it for that of Bernay, which was made over _in commendam_ -to a son, whether by Poudens or Louis was not clearly known, but who, -at the age of seven, in defiance of the concordat of Francis I with -the Pope, was made abbé of Bernay, father superior of Benedictine -monks, and entitled to draw an income of fifty-seven thousand livres -per annum, left by Duchess Judith to God and the poor. The case was -by no means uncommon, Charles of Valois, bastard of Charles IX and -Marie Fouchet, at the age of thirteen was invested with the revenues -of Chaise-Dieu, and Henry IV bartered an abbey for a mistress. - -Thomas Lindet was curé of S. Cross. - -The introduction of the power loom from England had produced much -want and discontent in Normandy, and in Bernay many hands were thrown -out of work. The sickness and famine which had periodically afflicted -that town of late years became permanent, and the poor priest was -condemned to minister in the presence of want and disease, without -the power of alleviating either, whilst the revenues of the Church -were drained to fill the purse of the non-resident abbé, and by him -to be squandered on luxuries and vanities. - -Lindet had more than once expressed his opinion upon the abuses -regnant in the Church. In 1781, in a discourse addressed by him to -the general assembly of his parish, he had said:--‘We desire that -justice should be brought to bear upon these abuses, which outrage -common sense and common right, at once. But is there any hope in the -future of an accomplishment of our desires? At present, all is dark; -but never let us despair. We groan under oppression. But be sure -of this,--wrong-doing revenges itself in the long run. We wish to -abolish the intolerable privileges which burden some, that others may -trip lightly through life. Alas! the privileged classes are jealous -of our jealousy of them. They scarce permit us to pray the advent of -a rectification of abuses, which will prove as glorious to religion -as it will prove beneficial to society. Who will put salt upon the -leeches, and make them disgorge the blood of the poor?’ - -For having used this language the curé had been severely reprimanded -by his bishop; for bishops were then, as they are frequently now, the -champions of abuses. - -At the present date, Lindet was again in trouble with his diocesan. -For three days in succession the sanctuary lamp in his church had -remained unlighted. The reason was, that the curé’s cruse of oil was -empty; and not the cruse only, but his purse as well. He had neither -oil by him, nor money wherewith to buy any; the lamp therefore -remained dark. Lindet hoped that some of his parishioners would come -forward, and furnish the sacramental light with a supply of oil, and -this eventually took place; but, in the meantime, three days and -nights of violation of the rubric had elapsed. The _officiel_ or -inquisitor of the bishop heard of this, and called on Thomas Lindet, -the day before the opening of this tale, to inform him that it was at -his option to pay down twenty-five livres for the misdemeanour, or to -be thrown into the ecclesiastical court. - -Under the _ancien régime_, a large portion of a bishop’s revenues was -derived from ecclesiastical fines imposed by his court, and into this -court cases of immorality, heresy and sacrilege among the laity, and -of infringement of rubrical exactness, and breach of discipline among -the clergy, were brought. As the prosecutor was also virtually the -judge, it may be supposed that judgment was usually given against the -defendant, who might appeal to the archbishop, or from him to the -pope,--all interested judges, but who was debarred from carrying his -wrong before a secular tribunal. - -The sun was declining behind the pines, and was painting with saffron -the boles of the trees, and striping with orange and purple the -forest paths, as Thomas Lindet prepared to part from his friend Jean -Lebertre, curé of the pilgrimage shrine of Notre Dame de la Couture, -at the brow of the hill where the path to the Couture forked off from -the main road to Bernay. At this point the trees fell away towards -the valley, and the shrine was visible, lit in the last lights of -evening which turned the grey stone walls into walls of gold. - -La Couture is a singularly picturesque church, with lofty choir -rising high above the nave roof, and with numerous chapels clustered -about the chancel apse. The spire of lead with pinnacled turrets, in -that setting glare, seemed a pyramid of flames. - -The priest of Bernay was a tall thin man of forty-five, with -colourless face, sunken cheeks, and restless, very brilliant eyes. -His face, though far from handsome, was interesting and attractive. -It beamed with intelligence and earnestness. His long hair, -flowing to his shoulders, was grizzled with care rather than with -age,--the care inseparable from poverty, and that arising from the -responsibilities attending on the charge of a number of souls. His -brow was slightly retreating and wanted breadth, his cheek-bones -were high. The nose and mouth were well moulded, the latter was -peculiarly delicate and flexible. The thin lips were full of -expression, and trembled with every emotion of the heart. - -Lindet’s hands were also singularly beautiful--they were narrow and -small; a lady would have envied the taper fingers and well-shaped -nails. Malicious people declared that the priest was conscious of -the perfection of his hands, and that he took pains to exhibit it; -but this was most untrue. No man was more free from vanity, and had -a greater contempt for it, than Thomas Lindet. He had contracted -a habit of using his right hand whilst speaking, in giving force -to his words by gesture, and whilst thinking, in plucking at the -cassock-buttons on his breast, but this trick was symptomatic of a -highly-strung nervous temperament, and was in no degree attributable -to personal vanity. - -Lebertre was somewhat of a contrast to Lindet. He was a middle-sized, -well-built man, with a face of an olive hue, hazel eyes, large, -as earnest as those of his friend, but not like them in their -restlessness; they were deep, calm wells, which seemed incapable of -being ruffled by anger, or clouded with envy. His black hair was -flowing and glossy, without a speck in it of grey. ‘I would not do -so,’ said he, holding Lindet’s arm; ‘you should bear meekly, and -suffer patiently.’ - -‘Bear and suffer!’ repeated the curé of S. Cross, his eyes lightening -and his lips quivering; ‘True. “Suffering is the badge of all our -tribe.” What the English poet puts into the mouth of a Jew is a motto -meet for a French curé. But, my brother, tell me--are not wrongs and -sufferings crushing us, destroying our self-reliance, ruining our -independence, and obliterating our self-respect? How can a priest be -respected by his flock when he does not respect himself; and how can -he respect himself when he is trodden like dirt under the feet of his -spiritual superiors?’ - -‘Bearing wrongs and suffering injustice without a murmur is the badge -of a Christian; above all, of a priest. He who suffers and endures -uncomplainingly is certain to obtain respect and reverence.’ - -‘A pretty world this has become,’ exclaimed Lindet; ‘the poor are -ground to powder, and at each turn of the wheel we are bidden preach -them Christian submission. They look around, and see everywhere -labour taxed, and idleness go free. Toil then like a Christian, and -pay, pay, pay, that the king may make fountains for his garden, the -nobles may stake high at cards, and the bishops and canons may salary -expensive cooks. Say the little farmer has a hundred francs. Out of -this he is obliged to pay twenty-five for the taille, sixteen for -the accessories, fifteen for his capitation, eleven for tithe. What -remains to him for the support of his family, after he has paid his -rent? Truly of this world may be said what is said of hell: “_Nullus -ordo, sempiternus horror inhabitat_”’ - -Lebertre did not answer. With the steadfastness of purpose that was -his characteristic, he returned to his point, and refused to be led -into digression by his vehement and volatile companion. ‘You must not -go to Évreux, as you propose,’ he said. - -‘I shall go to the bishop,’ returned Lindet; ‘and I shall give him -the money into his hand. I shall have the joy, the satisfaction, may -be, of seeing, for once in my life, a bishop’s cheek burn with shame.’ - -‘Is this a Christian temper?’ - -‘Is it the part of a Christian bishop to consume his clergy with -exactions and with persecutions, and to torture them with insults? -Our bishop neglects his diocese. He receives some four hundred and -fifty thousand livres per annum, and can only visit Bernay, with five -thousand souls in it, once in three years, to confirm the young and -to meet the clergy. When he comes amongst us on these rare occasions -he takes up his abode at the Abbey, and receives us, the priests who -seek advice and assistance, at a formal interview of ten minutes, -into which we must condense our complaints; and then we are dismissed -without sympathy and without redress.’ - -Lindet took a few steps along the path to La Couture. ‘I will -accompany you, Jean,’ he said; ‘and I will tell you how I was treated -when last I had access to Monseigneur. He sat at a little table; -on it was a newspaper and a hand-bell, and his large gold watch. -He signed to me to stand before him; I did so, holding my hands -behind my back like a boy who is about to be scolded. He asked me -some trifling question about my health, which I did not answer. I -could not afford to waste one out of my ten minutes thus; so I broke -out into an account of our troubles here. I told him there was no -school for the children; that I had no parsonage house. God knows! I -would teach the poor children myself if they could be crowded into -my garret, but the good woman with whom I lodge will not permit -it. I told him of the want and misery here, of the exactions under -which the poor are bowed. I spoke to him of the hollow-eyed hungry -workmen, and of the women hugging their starving babes to their empty -breasts.’ The priest stopped, gasping for an instant, his trembling -white hand working in the air, and expressing his agitation with mute -eloquence. ‘All the while I talked, his eye was on the newspaper; I -saw that he was reading, and was not attending to me. What he read -was an account of a fête at Versailles, from which, alas! he was -absent. Then he touched his bell. “Your time is up,” he said; and I -was bowed out.’ - -‘You forget that the time of a prelate is precious.’ - -‘I grant you that,’ answered Lindet, with quivering voice; ‘too -precious to be spent amidst a crowd of lackeys in dancing attendance -on royalty; too precious to be wasted on fêtes and dinners to all -the lordlings that Monseigneur can gather about his table in the -hopes that they may shed some lustre on his own new-fledged nobility.’ - -‘I will not hear you, my friend,’ said Lebertre, turning from him; -‘you are too bitter, too vindictive. You would tear our bishops from -their seats, and strip them of their purple.’ - -‘Of their purple and fine linen and sumptuous faring every day, that -Lazarus may be clothed and fed!’ interrupted Lindet, passionately. - -‘You would abolish the episcopacy and convert the Church to -presbyterianism,’ said the curé of La Couture with a slight tone of -sarcasm. - -‘Never,’ answered the priest of S. Cross; his voice instantly -becoming calm, and acquiring a depth and musical tone like that in -which he was wont to chant. ‘No, Lebertre, never. I would preserve -the ancient constitution of the Church, but I would divest it of all -its State-given position and pomp. I would have our bishops to be our -pastors and overseers, and not our lords and tyrants. I reverence -authority, but I abhor autocracy. David went forth in the might of -God to fight the Philistine; Saul lent him his gilded armour, but the -shepherd put it off him--he could not go in that cumbrous painted -harness. With his shepherd’s staff and sling he slew the giant. Woe -be it! the Church has donned the golden armour wherewith royalty has -invested her, and crushed beneath the weight, it lies prostrate at -the feet of the enemy.’ - -Lindet walked on fast, weaving his fingers together and then shaking -them apart. - -‘But let me continue what I had to tell you of the bishop’s visit -here,’ he said. ‘I was walking down the Rue des Jardins an hour after -my reception, with my head sunk on my bosom, and--I am not ashamed -to add--with my tears flowing. I wept, for I was humbled myself, -and ashamed for the Church. Then suddenly I felt a sting across my -shoulders, as I heard a shout. I started from my reverie to find -myself almost under the feet of the horses of a magnificent carriage -with postilions and outriders in livery, that dashed past in a cloud -of dust. I stood aside and saw my bishop roll by in conversation -with M. Berthier, laughing like a fool. My shoulders tingled for an -hour with the lash of the post-boy’s whip, but the wound cut that -day into my heart is quivering and bleeding still.’ As he spoke, he -and his friend came suddenly upon a wayside crucifix which had been -erected at the confines of the parish as a station for pilgrims, in a -patch of clearing. The pines rose as a purple wall behind it, but the -setting sun bathed the figure of the Saviour in light, and turned to -scarlet the mat of crimson pinks which had rooted themselves in the -pedestal. - -Lebertre pressed the hand of his agitated companion, and pointed up -at the Christ, whilst an expression of faith and devotion brightened -his own countenance. He designed to lead the thoughts of Lindet to -the great Exemplar of patient suffering, but the curé of S. Cross -mistook his meaning. He stood as one transfixed, before the tall -gaunt crucifix, looking up at the illumined figure. Then, extending -his arms, he cried, ‘Oh Jesus Christ! truly Thou wast martyred by -the bishops and aristocrats of Thy day; smitten, insulted, condemned -to death by Annas and Caiaphas, the high priests, and by Pilate, the -imperial governor. Verily, Thy body the Church bleeds at the present -day, sentenced and tortured by their successors in Church and State.’ - -Before the words had escaped his lips, a cry, piercing and full of -agony, thrilled through the forest. - -Lindet and Lebertre held their breath. In another instant, from -a footpath over which the bushes closed, burst a peasant girl, -parting the branches, and darting to the crucifix, she flung herself -before it, clasping her arms around the trunk, and in so doing -overturning a flower-basket on her arm, and strewing the pedestal and -kneeling-bench with bunches of roses. - -She was followed closely by a large man, richly dressed, who sprang -towards her, cast his arms round her waist, and attempted to drag -her from her hold. ‘Sacré! you sweet little wench. If persuasion and -flattery fail, why, force must succeed.’ And he wrenched one of her -bare brown arms from the cross. She cast a despairing look upward -at the thorn-crowned head which bowed over her and the seducer, and -uttered another piteous wail for help. - -At the same moment, the sun passed behind some bars of fog on the -horizon, and the light it flung changed instantly from yellow to -blood-red. The figure of the Christ was a miserable work of art, of -the offensive style prevalent at the period, contorted with pain, -the face drawn, and studded with huge clots of blood. In the scarlet -light it shone down on those below as though it were carved out of -flame, and menaced wrathfully. - -The girl still clung to the cross with one arm. She was dressed in a -short blue woollen skirt that left unimpeded her ankles and feet, a -black bodice laced in front, exposing the coarse linen sleeves and -shift gathered over the bosom about the throat. Her white frilled -Normandy cap, with its broad flaps, was disturbed, and some locks of -raven hair fell from beneath it over her slender polished neck. The -oval sun-browned face was exquisitely beautiful. The large dark eyes -were distended with terror, and the lips were parted. - -‘Mon Dieu! do you think that those frail arms can battle with mine?’ -asked the pursuer with mocking composure, as he drew the other arm -from the stem of the cross, and holding both at the wrists, pressed -them back at the girl’s side so as to force her to face him. - -‘Look at me,’ he said, in the same bantering tone; ‘can your -pestilent little village produce so wealthy and promising a lover as -me? Your Jacques and Jeans have but a few liards in their purses, and -can only offer you a pinchbeck ring; but I’--he disengaged one hand, -whilst he felt in his pocket and produced a purse; ‘whilst I--Ha! -listen to the chink, chink, chink! You do not know the language of -money, do you? Well, I will interpret; chink, chink--that means silk -dresses, satin shoes, dainty meats, and sweet bonbons. Now then!’ he -exclaimed, as she made a struggle to escape. - -‘Now then,’ repeated Thomas Lindet, who, quick as thought, strode -between the man and his prey. He released the child; and placing her -beside him, with a lip that curled with scorn, he removed his huge -shovel hat, and bowing almost double, with a sweep of the hat, said, -‘M. Berthier! the little one and I bid you good evening!’ - -Then he drew back, extending his arm and hat as an ægis over the girl. - -The gentleman stood as if petrified, and looked at them. He was a -tall man, largely made, very big-boned, with his hair powdered and -fastened behind by a black silk bow. His face was closely shaven, -the nose short, the upper lip very long and arched. But the most -conspicuous feature of his face were his eyes, set in red and raw -sockets. As he stood and looked at the priest, he mechanically drew -a handkerchief from his pocket, and proceeded with a corner of it to -wipe the tender lids. - -His coat was of maroon velvet edged and frogged with gold braid, his -waistcoat was of white satin, and his hat was three-cornered and -covered with lace. He wore a rapier at his side; and he was evidently -a man of distinction. - -‘Come, Lebertre, my friend,’ said Lindet, cheerfully, without taking -any more notice of the gentleman; ‘I will accompany you and help to -protect this damsel.’ The girl had lost one of her sabots, but in the -excess of her fear she walked along unconscious of her loss. The curé -of La Couture strode on one side of her, and the priest of Bernay -paced on the other, supporting her with their hands, for her limbs -shook with agitation, and, if unassisted, she would have fallen. - -‘I know her,’ said Lebertre to his friend, ‘she is little Gabrielle -André, and lives down by the river with her father, who is a farmer -of the Abbey.’ - -Lindet looked across at his companion, with a glad light dancing in -his eyes, and raising one hand heavenwards he exclaimed: ‘Did I not -say that the Church in all her members suffers and bleeds? Would, -dear friend, that, as we have rescued this poor child out of the -hands of a betrayer, we might also rescue the poor Church from her -seducers!’ - -Lebertre did not answer; but after a while he said solemnly, and with -an air of deep conviction: ‘Lindet! did you mark how, at the cry of -the child, the head of the Christ shook and frowned?’ - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - -The Charentonne in its meanderings forms a number of islets. The -stream is in itself inconsiderable, but it spreads itself through its -shallow valley like a tangled skein, and cuts up the meadows with -threads of water easily crossed on plank-bridges. - -Much of the land in the bottom is marsh, into which a rill dives and -disappears, but other portions are firm alluvial soil, producing rich -crops of grass, flax, and here and there patches of corn. - -On one of these islands, if islands they may be called, above the -hamlet of La Couture, stood a cottage, in style resembling those we -meet with in the southern counties of England, constructed of black -timber and white plaster, and thatched. To the south, at its back, -lay a dense growth of willow and poplar, screening the house from the -sun, and giving it in winter a moist and mouldy appearance, but in -summer one cool and refreshing. A considerable flower-garden occupied -the front of the cottage, filled with superb roses, white, yellow, -and red. Tall white and scarlet lilies leaned against the house, -whose thatch was golden with house-leek, so that in the flower season -the Isle des Hirondelles attracted the admiration of all who passed -along the road to Ferrières. - -In this cottage lived Matthias André, father of Gabrielle, whom the -two priests are conducting across the foot-bridge towards him. - -He was cleaning out the cow-house as they approached, littering -fresh straw in the stall from which he had forked the manure. He -was a middle-sized man, clad in knee-breeches and blue worsted -half-stockings that covered the calves, but were cut short at the -ankles. His sabots, which shod his otherwise bare feet, were stained -and clotted with soil. His coarse linen shirt was open at the throat, -exposing his hairy breast, and the sleeves were rolled to the elbows, -so as to give free play to his brown muscular arms. A large felt -hat, out of which the sun had extracted the colour, lay on the bench -before the door, and his head was covered with a blue knitted conical -cap, the peak and tassel of which hung over his right ear. - -Labour and exposure had bronzed and corrugated the features of -Matthias, oppression and want had stamped on them an expression of -sullen despair. His brow was invariably knit, and his eyes were -permanently depressed. He muttered to himself as he worked: he never -sang, for his heart was never light. How can the heart be light that -is weighed down, and galled with chains? The life of the peasant -before the French Revolution was the life of a slave; he could not -laugh, he could not even smile, for he had to struggle for bare -existence with exactions which strangled him. He and his sons were -like Laocoon and his children in the coils of the serpent that was -laced round their limbs, that breathed poison into their lungs, and -sucked the lifeblood from their hearts; and that serpent was the -_Ancien Régime_. - -Louis VI had enfranchised the serfs on the royal domain, and the -nobles, after his example, gradually released theirs, finding that -the peasant, with liberty and hope, worked better than the slave, -and made the land more valuable. To them they sold or rented some of -their acres. In 1315 appeared the order of Louis X, requiring all the -nobles to emancipate their serfs, because ‘every man should be born -free; therefore let the lords who have rights over the persons of -men, take example from us, and bring all to freedom.’ - -The nobles, determined by their interest, obeyed; but down to 1789 -serfs remained in France;--it was from the hands of the Church -that the Revolution liberated them. To the last, the canons of the -Cathedral of S. Claude, in Franche-Comté, refused to emancipate their -slaves from the feudal right of _main morte_, which placed human -beings, ransomed by the blood of Christ, on a level with the cattle. -In Jura there were as many as ten thousand; but in Normandy serfage -had disappeared in the thirteenth century. The serf became a small -farmer, and free;--but at what price? The land was his on condition -of paying a rent. Charges also, _real_, that is, paid in money or in -fruits, and _personal_, that is, acquitted by service rendered free -of expense to the landlord, weighed on the agriculturist. - -The imposts which oppressed him were these:--First, the _Taille_ or -tax. Of this there were two kinds, the _taux_ and the _taillon_. -From these taxes the nobles and the churchmen were exempt. Of nobles -there were in France some 83,000, and of churchmen some 200,000. The -capitation was an impost direct and personal, which touched all. -Calculated upon the presumed value of land and property which was -taxable, it was arbitrary, and those who had access to, and credit -with, the officers of comptrol, were lightly rated, whilst those -without interest were obliged to pay according to an exaggerated -estimate. By a succession of injustices, also, the capitation of some -was fixed, whilst that of others varied. The duty of tenth was levied -nominally on all; but nobles and ecclesiastics were privileged, and -paid nothing on their woods, meadows, vines, and ponds, nor on arable -land belonging to the home farm. - -The _Corvée_, also, weighed only on the peasant. The name, according -to etymologists, indicates the posture of a man bowed at the hardest -labour. He who was amenable to the _corvée_ was required to work -himself, and make his horses and oxen work, for his landlord and for -government. By this means the roads and other public works were kept -in repair. - -Two grand sources of public revenue were the _Gabelle_ and the -_Excise_. The gabelle, or monopoly of salt, pressed upon the peasant -in two ways. The father of the family, obliged to pay for salt which -he needed a price fifty times its value, was also required, under -pain of imprisonment, to purchase a certain amount, determined by -the clerks, and fixed according to the presumed consumption of his -family. If he failed to purchase the requisite amount, or if he was -suspected of being in possession of contraband goods, at any time of -the day his house might be invaded by the officers of the Excise, and -its contents examined. - -The feudal rights to grinding the corn, and pressing the grapes and -apples, were also grievous restrictions on the liberty of the farmer -and peasant. His landlord might imprison him for crushing the wheat -he grew in a hand-quern, and for squeezing enough apples to fill a -bottle with cider. - -The _Champart_ was another feudal right. The farmer was bound to -yield to his lord not only a share of his harvest, but also he was -not permitted to reap and garner his own corn till the portion due to -the proprietor had been removed from his field. In addition to all -these burdens came the _Tithe_; wheat, barley, rye, and oats were at -first alone tithable. But the conversion of arable land into pasture -and into fields of lucerne, sanfoin, and clover, to escape this tax, -affected the income of the clergy, and they claimed the right of -taking the tenth of cattle and of tithing wool. Nobles and roturiers -resisted this claim, and numerous law-suits were the result,--suits -rendered so expensive by the corruptions existing in courts of -justice, that the vast majority of sufferers paid the tenth of their -goods to the clergy rather than risk all to the lawyers. - -Matthias André removed his blue cap to the curés as they approached. -He bore them no grudge,--they were fellow-sufferers; but he was wont -to grind his teeth as the nobleman or the provost drove by, and he -would curse the monk who came to exact the convent dues. - -‘Good evening to you, neighbour André,’ said Jean Lebertre; ‘we have -brought you your daughter. She is a little upset, frightened by the -impertinence of a--well, of a gentleman.’ - -‘Of a rascal,’ interrupted Lindet. - -‘She shall tell you the story,’ said the priest of La Couture, -thrusting the girl forward; ‘she can do so better than I; all I know -of it is, that my friend here rescued her from a gentleman who was -treating her with insolence.’ - -‘How was it, child?’ asked Matthias, casting his fork from him with -such violence that it stuck into the soil and remained upright. - -Gabrielle moved towards the seat. - -‘Yes, sit down,’ said Lebertre; ‘poor child, you are greatly -overcome.’ - -Gabrielle sank upon the bench. She still trembled in all her limbs. -Removing her white cap, which was disarranged, her beautiful dark -hair fell in waves down her back and touched the seat she occupied. -The fear which had distended her eyes had now deserted them, and the -irises recovered their usual soft and dewy light. The peachy colour -also returned to cheeks that had been blanched, but the delicate rosy -lips still quivered with excitement. Clasping her hands on her lap, -and shaking the locks from her temples, she looked up beseechingly at -her father, and said, in gentle entreaty,-- - -‘My father! Let me not go to the château again.’ - -‘Tell me what took place.’ - -‘It was M. Berthier, my father. You know how I have feared him. Why -did you send me to the château?’ - -‘Go on, child.’ - -She suddenly clasped her hands over her brow, threw her head forward, -and resting her elbows on her lap, said:--‘Promise me! I am not to go -near that place again.’ - -‘Is time so common an article that I can afford to waste it thus?’ -exclaimed André. ‘Go on with your story, or I shall return to -littering the cow-stall.’ - -‘My father!’ - -‘Well!’ - -‘I am not to go there again!’ - -With a curse the peasant flung himself towards his fork, tore it -out of the ground, and recommenced his work. He continued carrying -into the cow-shed bundles of straw and spreading them, with apparent -forgetfulness of his daughter, and indifference to her trouble. She -remained with her head in her hands, crying. Lebertre spoke to her, -but her grief had now obtained the mastery over her, and she could -not answer him. - -‘Let her cry herself out,’ said Lindet. - -After the first paroxysm was over, she sprang up, ran to her father, -cast her arms about him, and placing her chin upon his breast, looked -up into his eyes. This was an old trick of hers. Matthias never -looked any one in the face, and when his daughter wished to meet his -gaze, she acted thus. - -‘I will tell you all now,’ she said. ‘Come, sit by me on the bench.’ - -‘I have no time at present,’ he answered, sullenly. ‘Besides, I can -guess a great deal.’ - -‘You shall listen to me,’ said the girl; ‘I will not let you go till -you have heard everything.’ - -She removed the manure-fork from his hand, and led him to the door -of the cow-shed. He would not go farther, he would not seat himself -beside her, as she had asked. He yielded to her request in one -particular, but not in another. It was his way,--his pride, to do -whatever he was asked with a bad grace. He supported himself against -one side-post, with his head down, and the knuckle of his forefinger -between his teeth; she leaned against the other jamb. - -‘I went round to the houses, as usual, selling my bunches of roses; -I sold one to Madame Laborde, and two to the Demoiselles Bréant; and -M. François Corbelin, the musician, bought one, but he did not pay -me,--he had no money with him to-day, but he promised for next time. -Then I went to the château of M. des Pintréaux, but the ladies did -not want any of my roses; and then I walked on with my basket to the -Château Malouve. The lackeys told me that Monsieur was not in, but -that he was a little way along the road, and that I was to take him -my roses, as he particularly wished to purchase them, he wanted them -all; so I walked on, but I was distressed, for I did not like to meet -M. Berthier alone. He always addresses me in a way that gives me -pain, and he makes his jokes, so that I am ashamed.’ - -‘Well, well, go on.’ - -‘So, my father, after I had shown him my basket----’ - -‘Then you found him?’ - -‘Yes; he was at no great distance. He laughed when I came towards -him. He did not seem to care much for the roses, but looked at me -with his horrible eyes, and he put his hand to my chin, and asked for -a kiss, then I was frightened and ran from him; but he followed me, -and I was so frightened that I could not run with my usual speed; my -head was spinning, and I scarcely knew whither I was going; then, -just as he caught me up, M. le Curé rescued me from him. God be -praised!’ - -Matthias turned from the door-post to resume his pitchfork, but his -daughter intercepted him once more. - -‘My father,’ she entreated, ‘say that I am never to go again with my -roses to M. Berthier!’ - -‘Did he pay you for the bunches he took?’ - -‘No; I ran away before he paid for them.’ - -‘You are a fool; you should have taken the money, and then run away.’ - -Lebertre now stepped forward to interfere. - -‘It is not right, Matthias, that the poor child should be sent into -such peril again.’ - -‘M. Berthier buys more bunches than any one else,’ answered André, -moodily. - -‘Dear father, I have too often to suffer the looks and smiles and -jokes of those to whom I offer my bunches of flowers,’ said the girl, -emboldened by finding that the priest took her part. ‘Let me work in -the field every day with you. Let us dig up the garden, and turn it -into a potato-field.’ - -‘Remember the risk to a young and pretty child,’ continued the curé, -‘in sending her round the country alone with her basket of flowers. -The young gentlemen are gay and reckless; shame and sin enough have -been wrought in this neighbourhood by them, and M. Berthier is -notorious for his debaucheries. You are thrusting your child over a -precipice.’ - -‘We must live,’ answered the peasant, fiercely. ‘Answer me this. -Does not the sailor risk life for a small wage; does not the soldier -jeopardy his for a gay coat and a liard a day? Is it not the mission -of men--I do not mean of nobles, they are not men, they are gods--to -labour and struggle for a subsistence in the midst of perils? Shall -not my child, then, run some risks to win enough to satisfy the -gnawing hunger in our vitals? Does not the doctor venture his health -for the sake of a fee, and shall not this girl risk her honour to -save her life?’ - -‘You imperil both your soul and hers.’ - -Matthias shrugged his shoulders. - -Lindet strode up to him, caught his shoulders in his palms, and -jerked his head upwards; their eyes met for a second, and in that -second Lindet mastered his dogged humour. André threw it aside, and -straightening himself, he beat his hands together, and cried out in -an altered tone, full of bitterness and pain,-- - -‘My God! what are we poor but the cattle of the rich? We are theirs; -what is the good of our attempting to resist their will? They possess -our earnings, our labour, our life, our honour; ay! our souls are -theirs, to ruin them if they like. Can anything I may do protect poor -Gabrielle from M. Berthier, or any other great man who shall cast -his lustful eyes on her? No. Let things take their course. Perhaps -God will right our wrongs at the judgment. I wait for that. Thy -kingdom come!’ he exclaimed, throwing up his hands to the sky. ‘And -till then,--if it be God’s will that we should be the prey of the -powerful,--that they should eat us up, and pollute our honour,--why, -His will be done, we must even bear it.’ - -‘Do you love your daughter?’ asked Lebertre. - -‘As much as I can afford,’ answered André, relapsing into his moody -humour. - -‘You do love her,’ said Lindet; ‘but you love yourself better.’ - -Matthias looked furtively at him. - -‘I love her, indeed,’ he said, sadly; ‘but I have no thoughts for -anything but how to stave off the great enemy.’ - -‘What great enemy?’ asked Lebertre. - -‘Hunger,’ answered the peasant, passionately. - -‘The child shall not take her flowers to the Château Malouve any -more,’ said Lindet, firmly. ‘She shall take them instead to my -brother Robert, and he will buy them. Mind, _instead_, not besides.’ - -‘Yes, monsieur!’ answered André. ‘Indeed, I do not desire that -evil should befall my dear child, but hunger is imperious; and oh! -last winter was so terrible, that I dare not face another such, so -destitute of means as I have been.’ - -Dusk had by this time settled in, and the curés walked homewards. -Their roads lay together as far as La Couture, which is almost a -suburb of Bernay, and was, according to antiquaries, the original -parish church of that town, before the erection of S. Cross. - -‘See,’ said Lindet to his friend, as they parted at the door of -the presbytery of La Couture; ‘see how want and poverty dry up the -natural springs of love and virtue; and how the nobles, the Church, -and the king, by their oppression of the peasant, are demoralising -him. Believe me, if ever a day of reckoning should come, those -natural feelings, which oppression has turned into gall, will -overwhelm the oppressors. If once the people get the upper hand, -mercy must not be expected; wrong-doing has long ago destroyed all -the tenderer feelings of our poor.’ - -But he was wrong in thinking that they were destroyed. Frozen over -they were, but not dried up. - -That night, after André had gone up his ladder to the bed of straw on -which he lay, and after several hours of darkness, Gabrielle woke up -at the sound of sobs, and creeping lightly from her attic chamber to -her father’s door, she saw him by the moonlight that flowed in at the -unglazed window, kneeling against his bed, with his head laid upon -his arm, and the moon illumining it, weeping convulsedly, and the -white light glittered in his tears. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - -The west front of Évreux Cathedral occupies one side of a small -square, of which the south side is formed by a high wall pierced by -the arched gate that conducts into the courtyard of the bishop’s -palace. - -Above this arch was wont to be erected the arms of the prelate -occupying the see, impaled with those of the diocese. The Bishop -of Évreux in 1788 was Monseigneur de Narbonne-Lara, and the arms -borne by him displayed a ramping and roaring lion. As those of the -bishopric were a S. Sebastian bound to a pillar, and transfixed with -arrows, the combination was peculiar, and was seized on by the wags -to point a moral. They observed that the saint typified Religion, -bound hand and foot by establishmentarian thongs, and pierced through -with many sorrows, whilst Monseigneur’s lion, which seemed bent -on devouring the martyr, symbolized the greed and ambition of the -episcopacy. - -Monseigneur de Narbonne had scrambled from a counter to a throne. -He was one of those few prelates of the French Church who were not -members of great families. Tell it not in Gath! his father made and -sold goose-liver pasties at Strasbourg; but Strasbourg is a very long -way from Évreux. - -The bishop’s father called himself Lara, his mother had been a -Demoiselle Narbonne; by combining the names, and prefixing to the -maternal cognomen a _De_, the bishop was able to pass himself off as -a member of the nobility, and to speak disparagingly of roturiers. -Above the parental shop at Strasbourg hung a wooden and painted -figure of a plucked goose, the badge of the family profession, and -the only heraldic device of which old Lara boasted. The lion, says -Æsop, once assumed an ass’s skin; but on the shield of Monseigneur -de Narbonne-Lara, bishop of Évreux, abbot _in commendam_ of three -religious houses, the ancestral goose ramped and roared as a lion or -out of a field gules. - -The bishop was ambitious of becoming an archbishop and a cardinal; he -had therefore to pay his court at once to Versailles and to Rome--a -course he was perfectly competent to pursue, for, though filled -to the brim with pride, he had not a drop of self-respect. He was -a tall, stout and handsome man, but his good looks were marred by -the redness and fleshiness of his face, and his proportions were -disguised by the pomposity of his carriage. - -Being a man of consummate shrewdness, he had succeeded in making -himself a favourite at Court. His knowledge of German had won him -first the bishopric of Gap, and afterwards the more important one -of Évreux, when, during the late reign, the Dauphiness had set -Austrian fashions. For the same reason, he was now private chaplain -to the Queen. He gave capital dinners, and hoped by the choiceness -of his cookery and wines to buy the favour of those who had the ear -of royalty. By fussy officiousness in the diocese, by worrying his -clergy, he hoped to obtain credit for energetic discharge of his -episcopal duties, and by favouring the Jesuits, he made sure that his -acts would be favourably reported at Rome. - -Monseigneur was now about to achieve a triumph. Prince -Louis-Stanislas-Xavier, commonly called ‘Monsieur,’ the brother of -the King, Duke of Anjou, Alençon and Vendôme, Count of Perche, Maine, -and Senonches, having business to transact in Normandy connected with -the bailiwicks of Bernay and Orbec, of which he was lord, had been -invited to the palace by the Bishop of Évreux, and the prince had -accepted the invitation. - -Monseigneur de Narbonne was in a flutter of excitement at the -prospect. The same may be said of Mademoiselle Baptistine, his -sister, who lived with him. The grand old palace was turned inside -out. Painters, gilders, and upholsterers had taken possession of the -house, and had banished the bishop into the turret overlooking the -garden. - -The prelate sat in his purple cassock and cape, pen in hand, making -imaginary calculations of the expenses the visit of the prince would -entail upon him. He had ordered the withdrawing room to be furnished -with blue silk hangings powdered over with silver lilies, and having -ascertained from his sister the price per yard of silk, and having -allowed a margin for the fleurs-de-lis, he measured the room when no -one was looking, and had just estimated the cost. He added to this -the blue velvet divan, and the chairs gilt and covered with blue -velvet, and the painting and gilding of the ceiling, the carpets and -the mirrors. He had pretty well satisfied himself that the income of -the see would not bear such an expenditure as he contemplated. But it -was worth the sacrifice. Three archbishops were then infirm. His own -immediate superior at Rouen had been reduced very low by a virulent -attack of gastric fever, brought on by immoderate eating of peaches; -and, according to the last account from Rouen, the archbishop, -immediately on his recovery, had again attacked the fruit of which -he was passionately fond, in opposition to the express orders of his -physician. If the archbishop were to be again prostrated, there was -every chance of his vacating an archiepiscopal throne, and also of -placing a cardinal’s hat at the disposal of the Pope. M. Ponce, the -_officiel_, was with the Bishop of Évreux. - -‘My good Ponce,’ said the bishop, ‘you must procure me money somehow. -Between ourselves, the expenses which I shall be compelled to incur, -in order adequately to entertain royalty, are so considerable, -that I must have my coffer replenished, or I shall be involved in -difficulties.’ - -‘I think, my Lord,’ answered the confidant, ‘that some of the cases -for your lordship’s court might be compromised, and that would at -once produce a sum of ready money.’ - -‘My excellent friend, I shall esteem it a favour if you will do so. -Are there many cases in hand?’ - -‘My Lord, I think there are some other cases coming on, but they -are not ripe yet. But, if your lordship will take my advice, I -should advise attention to be directed rather to the clergy than to -the laity. The times, as your lordship is well aware, are somewhat -uncertain. A spirit of antagonism to constituted authority is abroad; -there is much restlessness, much impatience of the rights of those, -whom Providence has ordained masters and governors, in Church and -State.’ - -‘It is but just that the shepherd should live of the milk of the -flock,’ said the bishop with dignity. - -‘Your lordship is theoretically right; but, unfortunately, the flock -will not submit to be milked with as great equanimity as heretofore. -Since the local parliaments, to the detriment of the liberties of -the Church, have assumed to receive appeals from our courts, we have -lost the hold upon the laity that we possessed formerly. I think--but -here I bow to your lordship’s superior judgment--that it would not be -advisable, just at present--I only urge at present, to draw off too -much milk from the laity. Now as for the _prêtrisse_, that is quite -another matter. The priests are at your disposal, your lordship can -do with them almost what your lordship likes. They are, in fact, mere -servants of the bishop.’ - -‘True, Ponce,’ said the prelate, blandly; ‘I say to this man go, and -he goeth; and to another do this, and he doeth it.’ - -‘And the most satisfactory point is this, they have no appeal against -their bishop. The law----’ - -‘I am the law,’ interrupted Monseigneur; ‘to the diocese in all -matters ecclesiastical, I repeat the expression, I am the law.’ - -‘Your lordship is right,’ continued the officer; ‘and therefore I -would urge that the most ready source of money is to be found in the -Church. You have but to fine a priest, and he cannot escape you. He -cannot evade your court, he cannot appeal to the crown, he dare not -throw himself on public opinion. He is completely at your mercy. He -is your slave. If he refuses to comply with your requirements, you -can inhibit him, or suspend him. Whilst suspended, the income of the -living goes to your lordship, and you have only to provide out of it -for the ministration of the sacraments; a small tax, for there are -always indigent or disreputable clergy glad enough to take temporary -duty for a trifling fee. But the curé knows better than to resist his -diocesan. He has been bred to consider it a matter of conscience -to yield to his ecclesiastical superior; and, even if conscience -does not influence him, common prudence will act upon him, when he -considers that every other profession is legally shut against him, so -that he must be his bishop’s slave, or starve.’ - -‘I have no wish for a moment to act with undue severity towards -my clergy,’ said Monseigneur de Narbonne; ‘indeed, I am incapable -of any such action; but discipline must be maintained, and when a -spirit of defiance manifests itself, even amongst the clergy, it is -high time that they should be made to recognise who is master in the -Church. The curés dare to call my episcopal acts in question, and to -oppose the execution of my projects. Is the Church a constitutional -government? Certainly not; it is a monarchy of which every prelate is -sovereign in his own see. The laity may have eluded his crook, but -with the spike he can transfix his recalcitrant clergy.’ - -‘I can give your lordship an instance of insubordination -corroborative of what you have just stated. I have just returned from -Bernay----’ - -‘Ah! there you have one of these new lights,’ interrupted the bishop. -‘I know his sentiments; he is a leader of disaffection, a man of -ungovernable vehemence, huge pride, and insolent demeanour.’ - -‘Quite so, my Lord,’ said M. Ponce. ‘According to your honoured -instructions, he has been closely watched, and, as I learned that he -had neglected to light his sanctuary-lamp during three days, he has -rendered himself amenable to justice. I have, however, offered him to -compromise the matter on the receipt of a fine of twenty-five livres. -He has refused me the money, and declares that he will speak to your -lordship about it, face to face.’ - -‘The fellow must be humbled,’ said the prelate; ‘he forgets that he -has no legal status, that he is a mere salaried curate, and that I -have it in my power to ruin him. I am glad that he is coming here; -I shall have an opportunity of cautioning him to exhibit decorum in -his conduct and respect in his behaviour.---- Well, Mademoiselle!’ -he suddenly exclaimed, as the door opened, and his sister entered, -embracing a large deal box. - -‘I have brought you your letters, Monseigneur, and----’ - -‘Well, my good sister, and what?’ - -‘Oh, nothing, nothing!’ - -‘May I ask what that box contains?’ enquired the bishop blandly, -whilst he took the letters. - -‘Nothing in the world, brother, but----’ - -‘But what, eh?’ - -‘Oh! nothing at all.’ - -‘Shall I retire?’ asked M. Ponce, who had risen from his seat on the -lady’s entry. - -‘By no means, my Ponce, by no means;’ and he began to tear open his -letters. - -‘Ha! begging appeals. The priest of Semerville is restoring his -church, and entreats help; the people are too poor, the landlord too -chary of giving, and so on.’ Away fluttered the note, torn in half, -and the _officiel_ obsequiously picked it up and placed it with a -score other dead appeals in the wastepaper basket. - -‘The curé of S. Julien entreats me to interfere--some widow who has -been wronged--bah!’ and that letter followed the first. - -‘“I have allowed nine months to elapse since the _vicaire_ of -Vernon was appointed, and the licence has not yet been forwarded; -wherefore, knowing the uncertainty of the post, he is confident that -the omission is due to the neglect of the postman, and not of the -forgetfulness of the bishop.” Humph! inclined to insolence. That is -the way these young curates behave! You shall await my convenience, -M. Dufour.’ This letter was crumpled up, and thrown at the basket. - -‘An altar to S. Joseph! The clergy of Louviers are desirous--and so -on. Well, Louviers is a large place. S. Joseph the patron of the -Jesuits; at any other time than this, my good friends.’ Away sped -this appeal. ‘“The curé of Beaumont ventures to observe that it is -two years since the last confirmation, and that the children are -growing up and leaving the district.” Confound his impudence! My -rule is plain enough, to hold a confirmation every year in the large -towns, Évreux and Louviers; one every second year in the smaller -towns; and one every third year in the rural districts. Sister! -enclose a printed slip with that notice to the curé of Beaumont.’ - -‘Yes, brother.’ - -‘What have we here? So, ho! a note from M. Berthier, Intendant -of Paris, written at his country seat, near Bernay, about Thomas -Lindet, who has behaved to him without proper respect, and whose -revolutionary principles render him a dangerous person to be the -curé of a large and important town. Pass me my paper-case, Ponce, -my good fellow, I will send him a note in return to thank him for -the information, and to promise that the curé shall be reprimanded -and cautioned. Intendant of Paris! a man of consequence, is he not, -Ponce, eh?’ - -‘A man of very great consequence, my Lord; his father-in-law is M. -Foulon, a great person at Court, as your lordship must know.’ - -If the bishop had attended to his sister instead of to his letters, -he would have observed that she was carefully placing the deal box -underneath the divan or sofa, which occupied one side of the little -room. - -‘Can I assist you, Mademoiselle?’ asked M. Ponce. - -‘On no account,’ replied the lady with evident alarm and agitation. - -She made several ineffectual attempts to attract her brother’s -attention, but he was too absorbed in his letters to notice her. And -the moment he had despatched his answer to M. Berthier, he plunged -at once into a discussion as to the guests who were to be invited to -meet His Royal Highness, at a fête on the evening of his arrival. - -‘I am in doubt whether to ask M. Girardin,’ said the prelate; ‘what -is your opinion, my Ponce? He is Lieutenant-General of the bailiwick, -which should weigh against his lack of nobility; his views are too -liberal to please me, he is a bit of a philosopher, has read Rousseau -and Voltaire, perhaps, and thinks with Montesquieu. I do not like to -introduce a herd of roturiers to the Duke; and, if one admits two or -three, all the burghers of the place will be offended at not having -been invited.’ - -‘As you have done me the honour of asking my opinion,’ said the -functionary, ‘I would recommend you to invite M. Girardin. Feed well -those who are not favourably disposed towards you; dazzle those who -are your enemies, and you render them powerless.’ - -‘I quite agree with what you say,’ said the bishop. This was not -extraordinary, as his official merely repeated a sentiment he had -heard Monseigneur express several times before; ‘those whom I cannot -suppress I dazzle, those whom I cannot dazzle I invite to my table.’ - -‘There is sound worldly wisdom in that,’ said M. Ponce. - -‘And it works admirably,’ the bishop continued; then, turning to his -sister, he said, ‘Well, Baptistine, what about the box?’ - -The lady gave a little start, frowned, and shook her head. - -‘Well,’ paused the bishop; ‘what is in it? Where have you put it?’ - -Mademoiselle Baptistine at once seated herself on the sofa, and -spread her gown, as a screen, to cover it, whilst she made several -cabalistic gestures to signify that the presence of a third party -prevented her from saying what she wanted. M. Ponce caught a glimpse -of these signs, or guessed that he was no longer wanted, for he rose, -and, after having formally saluted the bishop, and asked permission -to retire, he walked sideways towards the door, repeatedly turning to -bow. - -As his hand rested upon the latch, the door was thrown open, and a -large black retriever bounded into the room, between the legs of a -powdered footman in purple livery, who announced, ‘M. le Marquis de -Chambray.’ - -The gentleman who entered was tall and thin, with a solemn face, -adorned with a pair of huge grey moustaches. His hair was powdered, -and the dust covered the collar of his velvet coat. He was -elaborately dressed, and had the air of an ancient dandy. The Marquis -was a man of some fortune, and of illustrious family. He acted for -the prince as his deputy in the bailiwicks of Orbec and Bernay. -Scarcely less stiff and formal than his appearance was his character. -He was an aristocrat of the aristocrats, filled with family pride, -and rigid in his adherence to the rules of etiquette of the reign of -Louis XIV. He was never known to have made a witty remark, certainly -never a wise one. But though neither witty nor wise, he was a man who -commanded respect, for he was too cautious ever to act foolishly, and -too well-bred ever to behave discourteously. - -‘Ah! sapristi!’ exclaimed the Marquis; ‘my naughty dog, how dare you -intrude? I must apologise, my Lord, for the bad conduct of my dog. I -left it in the courtyard, but it has found its way after me.’ - -‘Let him remain,’ said the bishop; ‘fine fellow, noble dog! The doors -are all open, my dear Marquis; the workmen are engaged in getting the -palace just a little tidy for our distinguished visitor. Never mind -the dog--it would be impossible to shut him out, whilst the house is -in confusion. I am so sorry that you should be shown into this little -boudoir; but really, I am driven to it as my only refuge in the midst -of a chaos.’ - -‘I have come to inform you, my lord bishop, that Monsieur will be -with you on Thursday next, if that will suit your convenience. I -received a despatch from him to-day, and, amongst other matters, was -a notice to that effect, and a request that the announcement should -be made to you immediately.’ - -‘We shall be proud to receive him, and everything shall be in -readiness,’ said the bishop. - -‘The weather is exceedingly fine,’ observed the Marquis, turning -courteously towards Mademoiselle Baptistine. - -‘It is charming,’ answered the bishop’s sister, nervously. -Mademoiselle Baptistine was a lady of forty-five, with an aquiline -nose, of which, as an aristocratic feature, she and her brother were -proud. Her complexion was fair, her eyes very pale, and starting from -her head, so that she had always, except when asleep, the appearance -of being greatly surprised at something. - -‘It is also hot; Mademoiselle doubtless finds it hot,’ said the -Marquis. - -‘Very much so. I have been quite overcome.’ - -‘But it is seasonable,’ observed the visitor. And so on. - -Presently, however, the conversation brightened up a little; for the -Marquis, turning sharply on the bishop, said: ‘By the way, I met a -member of your family the other day.’ - -A scarlet flush covered the bishop’s face, and Mademoiselle -Baptistine turned the colour of chalk. - -‘I met the old Countess de Narbonne in Paris; she is doubtless a -cousin. I told her I was acquainted with your lordship, but she did -not seem to know you; probably her memory fails.’ - -‘The De Narbonne and the De Narbonne-Lara families, though remotely -connected, are not the same,’ answered the bishop, wiping his hot -face; ‘the branches separated in the reign of Saint Louis, and -therefore the connection between them is distant. Mine crossed the -Pyrenees and settled in Spain, where they fought valiantly against -the Moors. The castle of Lara is in Andalusia; the family assumed the -territorial name of Lara, in addition to the De Narbonne, on their -receiving the Spanish estates from a grateful monarch in recognition -of their services. My grandfather, unfortunately, gambled half the -property away, and my father sold the rest to pay off the debts his -father had contracted; an honourable proceeding, which reduced the -family, however, greatly. With the remains of his fortune he came to -France, retaining possession only of the ancestral castle in Spain.’ - -Suddenly Mademoiselle Baptistine uttered a scream. From under the -sofa darted the retriever with a huge pasty in its mouth. In its -efforts to secure the dainty morsel, it flung the lid of the box from -which it had extracted the pie, half way across the room. - -‘What is the dog at?’ exclaimed the bishop. - -‘Rascal!’ shouted the Marquis, ‘bring that here instantly.’ He -threatened the brute with his stick, and the dog crawled to him with -the pasty in its mouth. - -‘What manners!’ cried the nobleman; ‘I am so grieved at the -ill-conduct of my dog--No, Madame!’ as the lady stooped towards the -cover of the box, which had contained the delicious tempting pie. -‘Never, Madame; allow me.’ - -‘Allow me!’ said the bishop, bending his knee, and stooping towards -it. But Mademoiselle Baptistine was as active as either of the men; -and thus it came to pass that the three heads met over the lid of the -box; and at the same moment the bishop and the Marquis read a printed -shop-label, pasted upon it, and directed in manuscript to the bishop, -from-- - - ‘_Jacques de Narbonne-Lara (formerly Lara), - Maker of the celebrated Strasbourg Goose-liver Pasties. - Rue des Capuchins, 6; Strasbourg._’ - -‘Sapient dog!’ said the nobleman, rising, and blowing his nose. ‘My -wise Leo knows what is good. Ah! the pasty is utterly gone, he has -eaten it. I quite envy him the mouthful. Pray accept my deepest -regret for his misconduct.’ - -‘Do not mention it,’ answered the bishop, with his eyes still on the -hateful label. - -‘I am so glad to have the address,’ said the Marquis, with a slight -tinge of sarcasm in his voice; ‘I will write to the shop and order -some of these pasties for myself--I dote on the paté de foix gras.’ -And he bowed himself out of the room. - -‘What has that fool Jacques been about?’ asked the bishop, throwing -himself back in his chair, and clasping his hands in the air above -his head. - -‘My dear brother!’ answered Baptistine, ‘Jacques has assumed the same -name as you have; he is proud of being brother to a bishop, that -is why--and he has sent you the pasty as an offering of brotherly -love--so he says in his letter. I found the box on the table in the -hall, and all the servants round it, laughing. I snatched it from -them, and brought it up here, when----’ the rest was drowned in -tears. - -‘He had better have sent me a halter,’ said the bishop. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - -Famine reigned in France, for the resources of the country were -drained off to sustain the court in luxury and vice. In seven years, -Louis XV added seven hundred and fifty millions of francs to the two -billions and a half of debts left by Louis XIV. Archbishop Fénélon -wrote to the Grand Monarque: ‘At length, France is become one great -hospital, desolate and unprovided with the necessaries of life. By -yourself alone these disasters have been created. In the ruin of -France, everything has passed into your hands; and your subjects are -reduced to live upon your bounty.’ - -Louis the Well-Beloved was hunting one day in the forest of Sénart. -He met a peasant carrying a coffin. ‘For whom is that coffin?’ asked -the king. ‘For a man.’ ‘What did he die of?’ ‘Hunger.’ France was -dying: in a few years, but for the Revolution, it would have been -dead and buried, killed by famine. - -‘In my diocese,’ said the Bishop of Chartres, ‘men browse with the -sheep.’ - -Taxes innumerable were paid. But there was not money enough. -Hundreds perished, that the beasts of Æsop’s fables might squirt -water in the duck-ponds of Versailles. The royal mistresses sparkled -with jewels, and each jewel cost a human life. One hundred millions -of francs went in pensions, the Red Book told on whom. Exemption -from taxes was given liberally; the king created nobles, the revenue -created employés, all these were exempt. Thus, whilst the sum -required of the people increased every year, every year the number -of payers decreased. The load weighed on fewer shoulders, and became -more and more oppressive. - -At Versailles, fifteen thousand men and five thousand horses were -supported at the public cost to give splendour to the seat of -royalty; they consumed sixty million livres per annum. The king’s -house cost eighteen millions, that of the queen four millions, and -those of the princes nine millions, though they possessed as their -apannages a seventh part of the territory of France. The Church drew -an annual income of four hundred and fifty millions; the tithes were -worth eighty millions, and its buildings were estimated at five -hundred millions. Of the land in France, one-fifth belonged to the -Church. - -What was the condition of the peasant? It has been already described; -it was he who bore the burden and heat of the day. On his toils -the court, the nobles, and the Church lived. It was his blood that -they sucked. The peasant might not plant what he would in his -fields; pastures were required to remain pastures, arable land was -to be always arable. If he changed his field into meadow, he robbed -the curé of his tithe; if he sowed clover in his fallow land, the -landlord or the abbot turned in his flock of sheep, to crop off it -what he deemed his share. The lord and the abbot sent out their -cattle to pasture an hour before those of the peasant; they had the -right to keep huge dovecots, and the pigeons fed on the grain of the -farmer. The tenant worked for his landlord three days in the year -for himself, three days for each of his sons and servants, and three -for each horse and cart. He was bound to cut and make and stack his -lord’s hay in spring, and to reap and garner his wheat in autumn; to -repair the castle walls, and make and keep up the castle roads. Add -to all this the tax to the king, twelve sous per head for each child, -the same for each servant, the subvention for the king; the twentieth -for the king, that is, the twentieth portion of the fruits of the -earth, already tithed for the Church. - -When we hear folk declaim against the French Revolution, do not let -us forget what was the state of the people before that event. The -Revolution was a severe surgical operation, but it was the salvation -of France. - -To the beautiful gothic church of Notre Dame de la Couture, the -people of Bernay and the neighbouring villages went in procession, on -the Feast of the Assumption, to entreat the Blessed Virgin to obtain -for them relief from their miseries. Human succour seemed in vain. If -they appealed to the king, his answer was, _Give!_ If they besought -the nobility, they also answered, _Give!_ If they threw themselves at -the feet of the Church, her response was also, _Give!_ - -Now, throughout the land a cry went up to Heaven. At Bernay it took -the form of a pilgrimage. - -The origin of the Church of La Couture was as follows. Far away in -the purple of antiquity, when first the faith of Christ began to dawn -in Gaul, a shepherd-boy found himself daily deserted by his flock, -which left him as he entered the forest in the morning, and only -returned to him at nightfall. Impelled by curiosity, he followed -the sheep one day, and they led him through bush and brake till he -emerged on a pleasant sunny glade upon the slope of the hill, where -the pasture was peculiarly rich, and where also, resting against a -magnificent wild rose, leaned a black statue of the Blessed Virgin. - -This discovery led to a concourse of pilgrims visiting the image, -which had been thus unaccountably placed in the heart of a forest. -The clergy of the ancient city of Lisieux sent a waggon to transport -the image to their church; but no sooner was it placed upon their -altar than it vanished, and was found next morning in the glade of -Bernay. A chapel was erected over it, and was served by a hermit, -but the afflux of pilgrims made the shrine rich, and a church was -built in the forest, and about the church a village soon arose. -The trees were cut down, and the bottom of the valley was brought -into cultivation, from which fact the church obtained its name of La -Couture, or Ecclesia de Culturâ Bernaii. - -The church is beautifully situated on the steep side of the hill, -with its west front towards the slope, and its apse standing up high -above the soil, which falls away rapidly from it into the valley. -The western doorway is richly sculptured and contains a flamboyant -window, occupying the tymphanum of the arch. Above this portal is a -large window, which, at the time of our story, was filled with rich -tracery, and with richer glass that represented Mary, the Queen of -Heaven, as the refuge of all in adversity. In the central light, the -Virgin appeared surrounded by flames and rays, her face and hands -black, whilst angels harped and sang around her. A fillet surmounted -her, bearing the text ‘Nigra sum, sed formosa, sicut tabernacula -cedar.’ (Cant. i. 4.) On one side, cripples and sick persons -stretched forth their hands to the sacred figure; on the other, -were peasants trampled on and smitten by the servants of nobles in -armour, whilst above in the tracery might be seen houses and barns in -conflagration, and ships about to be engulfed in waves[1]. - -From the west door, a flight of fifteen steps leads down into the -nave, so that on entering, the appearance of the church is almost -that of a magnificent crypt. - -On the 15th of August, in the afternoon, the church presented an -imposing spectacle. Eight parishes had united to visit the shrine, -and supplicate the protection of the Blessed Virgin. The day had -been hitherto very fine, and the sight enjoyed from the churchyard -of the processions arriving from different quarters, in the bright -sunshine, had been singularly beautiful. Each parish procession was -headed by its banner; the clergy, by crucifix and candles. Various -confraternities, with their insignia, united to give picturesqueness -to the scene. From the interior of the church the effect was -striking, as the line,--endless it seemed,--rippled down the flight -of western steps, with tapers twinkling and coloured banners waving; -whilst the organ thundered, and the people shouted the refrain of -a penitential litany. The illumined figures in the yard contrasted -with those in shadow, as they flowed through the portal: this was -especially noticeable when a band of girls in white, with white -veils, and lighted taper in hand, preceded by their white banner -emblazoned with a representation of the Assumption, moved through the -doorway. The leading ribbons of this banner were held by two maidens -in white; one of these was Gabrielle, and her appearance in this pure -garb was most beautiful. A wreath of white roses encircled her head, -and clasped the muslin veil to her temples. As the shadow of the arch -fell upon her, a slight puff of wind extinguished her candle, but on -reaching the foot of the steps a taper was held towards her, and she -was about to re-light hers at the flame, when, raising her eyes, she -encountered those of M. Berthier, who, with a smirk, proffered her -his burning candle. She shrank away, and kindled her light at the -candle of a girl who followed her. - -M. Berthier was in company with an old gentleman, very thin, with -a hatchet face, white hair, and black eyes active and brilliant. -He was dressed in an old brown riding-coat, with high collar, over -which protruded a short wiry pig-tail, fastened with a large bow. He -took snuff, at intervals of a few minutes, from a large gold box; -and he took it in a peculiar manner, not from his fingers but from -the palm of his hand, into which he shook the tobacco dust, and from -which he drew it into his nostrils by applying the palm to his face. -This method of snuffing might be economical, but it was ungainly and -dirty, for it left crumbs of tobacco upon the lips, nose, and cheeks -of the old man. - -‘That is the wench,’ said Berthier, after he had politely returned -the taper, which he had unceremoniously snatched from the hand of a -peasant, that he might offer it to Gabrielle. - -‘A pretty little darling,’ the old man replied. ‘Is this the -third flame this year, and we only in August? Bah! my lad, you are -positively shocking.’ - -‘Are you going to remain here among these rascals?’ - -‘A moment or two, my friend; I want to see who are the malcontents. -Bah! these people ask Heaven for food. Let Heaven give them rain and -sunshine, and the earth yield her increase; who will profit thereby? -Not they. Bah! Famine is not the result of the seasons, it is no -natural phenomenon. It is good for the people to be kept on low diet, -it humbles them; America bred fat cattle, and they have thrown off -the yoke. What makes the famine, my boy? Why, _we_ make famine, and -keep up famine, because the people must be retained in subjection.’ - -Berthier touched the old man to silence him; Lindet was close -to them, and his glittering eye rested on the Intendant and his -father-in-law. But Foulon took no notice of the touch, and he -continued:--‘Bah! If they are hungry, let them browse grass. Wait -till I am minister, I will make them eat hay; my horses eat it.’ - -Thomas Lindet heard the words as distinctly as did Berthier. A flush, -deep as ruby, suffused his face, and he clenched his teeth, whilst a -flame darted from his eyes. - -‘Who is that devil?’ asked Foulon, with imperturbable calmness, of -his son-in-law. - -‘He is the priest of S. Cross, at Bernay. I owe him a grudge. Come -out of this crush into the air, I am stifled.’ - -Berthier drew his father-in-law to the door. - -The weather was undergoing a change. To the west, above the hill, a -semicircle or bow of white cloud, in which the sun made prismatic -colours, edged a dense purple-black mass of darkness. It was like -gazing into a hideous cavern whose mouth was fringed with fungus. - -‘A storm is at hand,’ said Berthier; ‘it is approaching too rapidly -for us to escape. We must remain here.’ - -An ash with scarlet berries grew opposite the west door, on high -ground. This tree stood up against the advancing clouds like a tree -of fire, so intense was the darkness within the bow of white. The -leaves scarcely rustled; at intervals a puff of wind swept over the -churchyard and shook the tree, but between the puffs the air was -still. Gradually a peculiar smell, very faint, like the fume of a -brick-kiln at a great distance, filled the air. The white vapourous -fringe dissolved into coils of cloud, ropy, hanging together in -bunches, and altering shape at each moment. A film ran over the sun, -which was instantly shorn of its rays; a chill fell on the air, and -a shadow overspread the ground; the ash turned grey, and everything -that had been golden was transmuted into lead. - -From the church within sounded the organ, and the people chanting -the Magnificat; and incense rose before the altar, on which six -candles burned. - -From over the western hill came the mumble of distant thunder, a low -continued roll like the traffic of heavy-laden vehicles on a paved -road. A few large drops fell and spotted the flagstone on which -Berthier and Foulon stood. They looked up. The sky was now covered -with whirling masses of vapour, some light curl-like twists flew -about before the main body of lurid thunder-cloud, which was seamed -and hashed with shooting lights. - -The wind arose and moaned around the church, muttering and hissing -in the louvre-boards of the spire; the ash shivered and shook, the -willows and poplars in the valley whitened and bent, and the long -grass in the cemetery fell and rose in waves; the jackdaws flew -screaming around the tower, a martin skimmed the surface of the -ground, uttering its piercing cry. - -Foulon had been scratching his initials listlessly on the flag on -which he stood, with the ferule of his walking-stick. Drops like -tears falling about it made him say:--‘Come in, Berthier, my boy. The -rain is beginning to fall, and you will have your smart coat spotted -and spoiled.’ - -The two men re-entered the church. Vespers had just concluded, and -Lindet ascended the pulpit. From where he stood he saw them in the -doorway, with the sheet-lightning flashing and fading behind them. -At one moment they appeared encircled with flame, at another plunged -in darkness. - -‘As I came into this church to-day,’ spoke Lindet with distinctness, -‘I heard one say to another: _If the peasants are hungry, let them -browse grass. I would make them eat hay; my horses eat it._ As I -stand in this pulpit, and the lightning illumines yonder window, -I see painted there a lean, famished peasant, trampled under the -hoofs of the horse of some noble rider, and the great man has his -staff raised to chastise the peasant. Under these circumstances, -the poor man lifts his hands to heaven, as his only refuge. That is -what you do this day,--you, the down-trodden, scourged, and bruised; -you who are bidden browse the grass, because that is the food of -brute-beasts. Just Heaven! the importunate widow was heard who cried -to the unjust judge to avenge her on her adversary, and shall not God -avenge His own elect, though He bear long?’ - -The rain burst with a roar upon the roof,--a roar so loud and -prolonged that the preacher’s voice was silenced. The vergers closed -the great doors to prevent the rain from entering, for the wind -began now to blow in great gusts. The fountains of heaven seemed to -have burst forth, the rain rattled against the west window, loudly -as though hail and not rain were poured upon it. Dazzling flashes -of lightning kindled up the whole interior with white brilliancy, -casting no shadows. The congregation remained silent and awed, the -clergy in their tribune opposite the pulpit sat motionless. The -candles flickered in the draughts that whistled round the aisles; -their flames seemed dull and orange. - -Suddenly the bells in the tower began to peal. According to popular -belief their sound dispels tempests, and the ringers were wont to -pull the ropes during a storm. The clash and clangour of the metal -alternated with the boom of the thunder. The darkness which fell on -the church was terrible, men and women on their knees recited their -beads in fear and trembling. Scarce a heart in that great concourse -but quailed. Once a child screamed. Then, as for one instant, the -bells ceased, the sobbing of a babe at its mother’s breast was heard. -The water began to flow down the hill, collect into a stream in the -churchyard, and to pour in a turbid flood down the steps into the -nave. It boiled up under the closed door, it rushed into the tower -and dislodged the ringers, who were soon over shoe-tops in water. - -A startled bat flew up and down the church, and dashing against the -altar-candles extinguished one with its leathern wings. - -All at once the rain ceased to fall, and the wind lulled. None -stirred; all felt that the tempest was gathering up its strength -for one final explosion ere it rolled away. Then a tall thin woman -in black, with a black veil thrown over her head, was observed -to have stationed herself immediately before the altar, where she -knelt with outstretched arms and uplifted face. Those who were near -observed with horror that the face, from which the veil was upthrown, -was of a blue-grey colour. When she had made her way to her present -situation none knew; none had observed her in the procession, for -then she had been, probably, closely veiled. She threw her arms and -hands passionately towards the black Virgin above the altar, and in -the stillness of that lull in the storm her piercing cry was heard -pealing through the church, ‘Avenge me on my adversary.’ - -‘My God!’ whispered Berthier to his father-in-law, as he pointed to -the excited worshipper, ‘look at my wife, Foulon! she has gone mad.’ - -‘Bah!’ answered the imperturbable old man; ‘nothing of the sort, my -boy; she is invoking vengeance upon you and me.’ - -Instantly the whole church glared with light, brighter than on the -brightest summer day. No one present saw any object, he saw only -light--light around him, light within him, followed by a crash so -deafening and bewildering that it was some minutes before any one -present was able to perceive what had taken place, much less to -realize it. - -The lightning had struck the tower, glanced from it, bringing part -of the spire with it; had rent the west wall of the church, and had -shattered the slab on which, some minutes previously, Foulon and -Berthier had been standing. - -This was the last effort of the storm; the sky lightened after this -explosion, the rain fell with less violence, and gradually ceased. - -The congregation left the church. The torrent, which had rushed down -the hill, had in some places furrowed the graves and exposed the -dead. The grass was laid flat, and much of it was buried in silt. -Every wall and eave dripped, and the valley of the Charentonne lay -under water. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - -Matthias André did not join the procession. He had been to mass in -the morning, for the Assumption was a day of obligation. And now -he sat smoking bad tobacco out of an old brown clay pipe, on the -seat before his door, facing due north, towards Bernay; there was -a corn-field on his right, cut off from the Isle of Swallows by -a rivulet of water--a field he had ploughed whilst his daughter -Gabrielle drove the horses, which he had sown with his own hands, and -which he had reaped. Gabrielle had bound the sheaves after him, and -now the shocks stood in goodly array, waiting to be garnered. They -had been waiting thus twelve days. The harvest was late this year, -owing to the cold spring. Much corn was down in the country, and -the tithe-cart of the monastery had been round to farm after farm, -and had come last to his. He did not dare to remove a sheaf till -the Abbey had taken its tenth; and after the monks came the revenue -officers, taking their twentieth. What the palmer-worm had left, the -locust devoured. Now came the feast-day, on which all work ceased, so -the good wheat remained a thirteenth day unstacked. - -Sullen, with downcast eyes, sat the peasant without his coat, but in -his red velvetine waistcoat, drawing long whiffs from his pipe, and -blowing them leisurely through his nostrils. - -Beside him sat a little wiry brown man, with coarse serge suit of -snuff-brown, face and hands, stockings and cap, to match. His eyes -were sharp and eager. This was Etienne Percenez, the colporteur. - -‘You have not joined the procession, Matthias, my friend,’ said the -little man, filling a pipe. - -‘For five and forty years I have supplicated God, our Lady, and the -Saints, to assist me in my poverty, and the answers to my prayers -have been doled out in such scant measure, that I have almost given -up prayer,’ answered André. - -‘You must work as well as pray,’ quoth the little man, with his pipe -in his mouth. - -‘Do I not work?’ asked the peasant-farmer, turning almost fiercely on -his friend; ‘I work from morning till night, and from the new year -to the new year. But what does that avail when the season is bad? A -hard winter, a late summer, and then fiery heat from June to August, -without a drop of rain. The grass is hardly worth mowing; the clover -is short and scanty, and the corn-crops are poor. When we thrash out -the wheat, we shall find the greater part of the ear is husk.’ - -‘Things may mend,’ said the colporteur; ‘they always reach their -worst before they right themselves. When we have the States-general, -why then we shall see, we shall see!’ - -Matthias shrugged his shoulders. ‘What did the Notables do for us -last year?’ - -‘The Notables are very different from the States-general. The -Notables were all chosen out of the nobility--one hundred and forty -oppressors met together, to decide how much greater oppression we -could be made to bear. But in the States-general, the oppressed will -have a voice, and can cry out.’ - -‘The Notables are summoned again.’ - -‘Yes, my friend, they are summoned by Necker, but not to consult -on the deficit, but to deliberate on the form of election to the -States-general, and on their composition.’ - -‘How great is the deficit?’ - -‘At the end of last year the expenditure surpassed the receipt by -one hundred and ten millions, and the deficit now amounts to sixteen -hundred and thirty millions. The exchequer cannot borrow money, for -Necker has discredited loans by publishing the state of the finances. -Do you think the Notables, the princes of blood-royal, the chiefs -of the nobility, the clergy and the magistracy, will pay the debt -out of their own pockets? No, no; they like to spend and not to pay. -Now, the king is going to call together the States-general. The -Notables pay! they saw only in Calonne’s scheme the spoliation of -the nobility and clergy, that is why they drove Calonne away, and -brought in Loménie de Brienne, the bishop, in his stead; they brought -a churchman into the ministry to bury the public credit, dead long -ago. De Brienne finds that there is no other resource but to take -possession of Calonne’s plans, and ask the Parliament of Paris to -consent to a vast loan. But the Parliament is made up of judges, -men grave and economical, and they are indignant at an impost on -their lands. Why should they be made to pay for Monsieur the Count -d’Artois’ fêtes, and the queen’s follies? Why consent to a debt ever -accumulating, and acquiesce in the ruin of France? Tell me that, my -friend Matthias. When the walls crack, we do not paste paper over -the rents to hide them--we dig down to the foundations, and we relay -them. Perhaps the Parliament of Paris thought this, my André, so they -appealed to the States-general. The States-general we shall have; and -then, Matthias, we, the oppressed, the tax-payers, the hungry--we -shall have a voice, and shall speak out; and, Matthias! we shall make -ourselves heard.’ - -‘Go on,’ said the farmer; ‘tell me the rest.’ - -‘The king declares that he will convoke the States-general.’ - -‘We shall speak out?’ asked André, hesitatingly. - -‘Our own fault, if we do not.’ - -‘But they will punish us if we do.’ - -‘What, Matthias, punish all France! Remember, all France will speak.’ - -‘And we can tell the good king that the tax-gatherers, and the -excise, and the nobles, and the abbés, are crushing us? that they are -strangling us, that we are dying?’ - -‘Surely.’ - -‘And the tax-gatherers, and the excise, and the nobles, and the -abbés, cannot revenge themselves on us for saying that?’ André leaned -back and laughed. He had not laughed for many years, and his laugh -now was not that of gaiety. - -‘A storm is rising,’ said Percenez, pointing over the hill. - -‘Will the king listen to us?’ - -‘Yes, he will listen.’ - -‘But will he redress our wrong?’ - -‘We shall make him. He has put the means into our hands.’ - -The first roll of thunder was heard. - -‘We shall be relieved of the taxes, the _gabelle_, the _corvée_?’ - -‘I do not say that; but the taxes will be levied on all alike.’ - -‘What! will the abbé and the noble pay six sous a livre for salt, and -pay the taille?’ - -‘Certainly, we shall make them pay. We pay, so must they.’ - -Again André leaned back and exploded into laughter, whilst from over -the hill the forked lightnings darted, and the thunder boomed. - -The two men watched the approach of the tempest. The mutter of -the thunder was now unceasing, and the vault was illumined with -continuous flashes. - -‘I must hasten home,’ said Etienne Percenez, ‘or my old dame will die -of fright at being alone in the storm.’ - -‘And I will go in,’ said André. But he did not go in at once; he -stood in his door. As Percenez crossed the foot-bridge, he heard his -friend bellow. Thinking he was calling, the little brown man turned -his head; he saw that André was laughing. - -‘I cannot help it,’ roared the peasant; ‘to think of the nobles, the -intendants, and the abbés, paying taxes!’ and he roared again. Then -he signed to Percenez. - -‘The storm is coming on.’ - -‘Very, very fast,’ cried the other, beginning to run. - -Matthias went inside the house, and seated himself before the -fireless hearth, and listened to the wind growling round the eaves. -The rain splashed against the little window, glazed with round panes. -There was a leak in the roof, and through it the water dribbled upon -the floor of the bedroom overhead. It became so dark in the chamber, -that Matthias would have lit a candle, had not candles cost money. -The water swept down the window in waves; the house trembled at each -explosion of the thunder. Going to the door, the peasant saw by the -lightning no part of the landscape, for the rain falling in sheets -obscured everything. He shut the door; the flashes dazzled him. Then -he threw himself down on a bench, and put his hands to his ears, to -shut out the detonations of the thunder, and began to think about -Necker and the States-general, and the probability of the nobles and -clergy paying taxes, and this idea still presented itself to him in -such a novel and ludicrous light, that again he laughed aloud. All -at once an idea of another kind struck him, as his hand touched the -floor and encountered water. He leaped with a cry to his feet and -splashed over the floor. He rushed to the door. The darkness was -clearing, and by the returning light, as the rain began to cease, -and the surrounding hills to become visible, he observed every -lane converted into a torrent of brown fluid; the roads had become -watercourses, and were pouring turbid streams through the gates into -the fields and meadows. The Charentonne had risen, and was rising -every moment. The water was level with the bridge which conducted -into his corn-field, and that was above the surface of the ground, -for it rested on a small circumvallation raised to protect the -field from an overflow. For a moment he gazed at his wheat; then he -burst away through the sallows and willow-herbs which grew densely -together behind his cottage, drenching himself to the skin, and for -ever marring the crimson velvet waistcoat; and struggled through the -rising overflow and dripping bushes to the south point of his isle, -where usually extended a gravelly spit. That was now submerged; he -plunged forward, parting the boughs, and reached a break in the -coppice, whence he could look up the valley. At that moment the -sun shot from the watery rack overhead, and the bottom of the vale -answered with a glare. Its green meadows and yellow corn-fields were -covered with a sheet of glistening water, its surface streaked with -ripples, pouring relentlessly onwards, and lifting the water-line -higher as each broke. Clinging to a poplar, from which the drops -shivered about him, up to his middle in water, stood Matthias André, -stupefied with despair. Then slowly he turned, and worked his way -back. - -The few minutes of his absence had wrought a change. His garden was -covered, and the flood had dissolved or overleaped the dyke of the -corn-field, and was flowing around his shocks of wheat. - -Nothing could possibly be done for the preservation of his harvest. -He stationed himself on the bench at his door, and watched the -water rise, and upset his sheaves, and float them off. Some went -down the river, some congregated in an eddy, and spun about; others -accumulating behind them, wedged them together, and formed a raft of -straw. - -‘Go!’ shouted he to his corn-sheaves; ‘sodden and spoiled, I care not -if ye remain. Go! now I must starve outright, and Gabrielle--she must -starve too.’ - -Gabrielle! - -Instantly it occurred to him that she was at the church, and would -need protection and assistance in returning. - -He went inside and put on his coat, took a strong pole in his hand, -and bent his steps towards the foot-bridge. It was not washed away, -but it was under water. He felt for it with the pole, found it, and -crossed cautiously. Then he took the road to La Couture. Many people -met him. Recovered from their alarm, their tongues were loosened, and -they were detailing their impressions of the storm to one another. -André accosted a neighbour, and asked him if he had seen Gabrielle. -He had not; but supposed she was behind;--many, he said, were still -in the churchyard, waiting for the flood to subside. - -Some old women, who lived in a cottage only a hundred paces beyond -the stile across which André strode into the road from his islet, now -came towards him. - -‘Neighbour Elizabeth, have you seen my child?’ - -‘No, Gaffer André.’ - -A little farther on he met a girl-friend of Gabrielle’s, in white, -with her wreath somewhat faded, and her candle extinguished. - -‘Josephine! where is my little one?’ - -‘I do not know, father André; I have been looking for her amongst the -girls of our society, but I could not find her.’ - -‘Do you think she is still in the church?’ - -‘That may be, but I do not think it is likely; you know that the -lightning struck the spire.’ - -‘Was any one killed?’ - -‘No; but we were all dreadfully frightened.’ - -Matthias pushed on. He questioned all who passed, but could gain -no tidings of Gabrielle. Several, it is true, had seen her in the -procession; some had noticed her in the church; but none remembered -to have observed her after the fall of the lightning. - -André was not, however, alarmed. He thought that possibly his -daughter was still in church, praying; probably she was with some -friend in a cottage at La Couture. Gabrielle had many acquaintances -in that little village, and nothing was more probable than that one -of them should have invited the girl home to rest, and take some -refreshment, till it was ascertained that the water had sufficiently -subsided to permit of her return to the Isle of Swallows. - -When he reached La Couture, he went direct to the church. He was -shocked to see the havoc created there by the bursting of the -storm; workmen were already engaged in filling the graves that had -been ploughed up by the currents, and covering the coffins which had -been exposed; head-crosses lay prostrate and strewn about, and the -sites of some graves had completely disappeared. A knot of people -stood at the west end of the church, gazing at the ruin effected by -the lightning; the summit of the spire was cloven, a portion leaned -outward, the lead was curled up like a ram’s horn, and a strip of -the metal dissolved by the electric fluid exposed the wooden rafters -and framework of the spire. The stroke had then glanced to the apex -of the nave gable, thrown down the iron cross surmounting it, had -split the wall, shattered the glass, and then had fallen upon and -perforated the threshold. - -Matthias André entered the church, and sought through its chapels for -his daughter. She was not there. No one was in the sacred building. - -Then he entered the village, and visited one house after another. No -one had tidings to tell of Gabrielle. The father became anxious. He -enquired for the girl who had borne the banner of the Blessed Virgin. -He asked her about his daughter, who had stood near her, holding the -leading ribbon. - -She had seen Gabrielle, of course she had, when they entered the -church; she sat near her in the aisle during vespers. When the -storm came on, Gabrielle seemed to be greatly alarmed; she must have -fainted when the lightning fell, because two gentlemen had carried -her out of church. - -Whilst the girl spoke, she stood in the doorway of her cottage, -holding the trunk of a vine which was trellised over the front of the -house and a small open balcony, to which a flight of stairs outside -the dwelling gave access. - -The girl was the sister of Jean Lebertre, curé of the church, and she -kept house for her brother. During the conversation, a priest stepped -out of the upper room that opened on to the balcony, and leaning his -elbows on the wooden rail, looked down on André. - -‘What is the matter?’ he asked. - -Matthias turned his face to the questioner. It was Lindet. - -‘I cannot discover what has become of my daughter, Monsieur le Curé. -Pauline, here, asserts that she fainted in church at the great -thunder-clap, and that she was carried out by two gentlemen.’ - -In a moment, Lindet strode down the stairs, and said, looking fixedly -with his bright eyes on the girl: - -‘Answer me, Pauline, who were those gentlemen?’ - -‘I do not know, monsieur.’ - -‘What were they like?’ - -‘Ma foi! I was so dazzled that I hardly know.’ - -‘Are you sure they were gentlemen?’ - -‘Oh, monsieur! of course they were. One had on a velvet coat.’ - -‘Of what colour?’ - -‘Reddish-brown, I think.’ - -‘And is that all you observed of him?’ - -‘He wore a sword.’ - -‘And the other?’ - -‘The other gentleman was quite old.’ - -‘Did you see the face of the first?’ - -‘I think so.’ - -‘And did you notice any peculiarity? Consider, Pauline.’ - -‘His eyes were strange. The sockets seemed inflamed.’ - -Lindet beat his hands together; André folded his arms doggedly, and -his chin sank on his breast, whilst a cloud settled on his brow. - -‘That is enough,’ he said, in sullen tones; ‘I am going home.’ - -Lindet caught his arm. - -‘Are you going home, man?’ - -‘Yes, I am tired. I have lost my crops, I have lost my daughter, and, -what is worst, I have spoilt my best waistcoat.’ - -‘What! will you not make further enquiries? Your daughter will be -ruined,’ said Lindet, vehemently. - -‘Why make further enquiries? I know now where she is.’ - -‘And will you make no effort to recover her?’ - -‘Why should I? I can do nothing. The poor cannot resist the great. -The storm came on just now, and the lightning smote yon spire. Why -did you not make an effort to protect the spire? Because you were -powerless against the bolt of heaven. Well! that is why I make no -attempt to protect my child; what could I do to oppose the will of an -Intendant, a great man at Court, and very rich?’ - -‘The child will be ruined. Make an attempt to save her.’ - -André shook his head. - -‘No attempt I could make would save her; no attempt I could make -would save my corn either. I shall go home and wipe my waistcoat; -perhaps I may save _that_ from utter ruin.’ - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - -Thomas Lindet was not satisfied. Some effort must be made to -rescue the girl. If the father would not move, he must. He started -immediately for the château. He was an impetuous man; what he -resolved on doing he did at once, as quickly as he could. - -In half an hour he was at the Château Malouve. - -The house was small and modern. It stood by itself, with the woods -for a background, on the slope of the hill, facing south-east. The -ground before it fell rapidly away towards the valley, and was -in field and pasture. A terrace had been formed in front of the -house, with a pond in the midst, and a triton to spout water from a -conch-shell. But as the château occupied high ground, and there was -little water on a higher level, the triton maintained in wet weather -an inconsiderable dribble, which not even the storm of that day could -convert into a jet; but in hot weather it was dry. - -The château was flanked by two square blocks, the roofs of which were -capped with tower-roofs and weathercocks. The body of the building -had the high exaggerated roof of Louis XIV’s time, pierced with -attic louvres. Every window was provided with emerald green shutters, -and the walls being of a chalky whiteness, the house had a gay and -smiling appearance. - -M. Berthier had a large house in Paris, in which he resided the major -portion of the year, only visiting Malouve in the summer for a month -or two. - -At the back of the château was a yard, one side occupied by stables, -another by servants’ offices; access to this yard was obtained -through an iron gate painted green and gold, set in a lofty iron -railing, very gay with paint, very strong and insurmountable, -the spikes at the summit being split and contorted so as to -form a pretty, but, at the same time, an eminently practical -chevaux-de-frise. - -As Thomas Lindet approached the gate, two hounds rushed out of their -kennels before the coach-house door, and barked furiously. One was -chained, but the other, by accident, had got loose, the staple which -fastened the chain having given way; and the brute now flew to the -gates, dragging the clanking links after him, and leaped against the -iron bars. - -The shovel hat and black cassock were an unusual sight to the dog, -and the costume of the priest excited it to a pitch of fury. First -it set its head down, with the paws extended, rolled back its -lips exposing the pink gums and white fangs, and growled; then it -leaped up the iron rails, as though desirous of scrambling over -them, started back, barked furiously; its chained brother assisting -vociferously. The eyes of the hound became bloodshot. It flung itself -again and again at the gate, it ran along the line of rails, leaping -on the dwarf wall in which they were fixed, and slipping instantly -off it, scrambling up again, and catching at the bars with its teeth, -searching along the whole length for a gap, through which it could -force its way; sometimes thrusting its head between the rods, and -then, nipped by them, becoming more furious; racing back to the great -gates, scraping at the earth under them with intent to burrow a way -to get at the priest, but always unsuccessful. - -Lindet rang the great bell. - -A rakish-looking footman opened the glass doors of the house, -looked out and called ‘Poulet! Poulet!’ to the hound, but it paid -no attention, so the footman sauntered to the stable and then to -the coach-house, in search of a groom. As he passed the kennel, he -kept at some distance from the chained dog, but addressed it in a -conciliatory tone--‘Eh bien! Pigeon, mon ami! Soyez tranquil, cher -Pigeon.’ But the Pigeon paid no more attention to this advice than -did the Chicken to his calls. - -Not being able to find the groom, the footman leisurely visited the -garden, and called, not too loudly, ‘Gustave!’ Gustave, the gardener, -having at last turned up, a little conversation ensued between him -and Adolphe, the footman, which ended in both appearing in the court, -and making towards the hound from opposite quarters, Adolphe keeping -unduly in the rear. - -Having approached the dog--which by this time had worked itself into -a mad rage, apparently quite ungovernable--within such distance as -Gustave, on one side, and Adolphe on the other, respectively thought -consistent with prudence, ‘Come on, my brave fellow, excellent dog, -worthy hound, trustiest of chickens!’ called Adolphe, ‘come, don’t -be a naughty child. Come, be docile once more, and all shall be -forgotten.’ - -‘Come this way, you rascal!’ roared Gustave authoritatively, ‘come -and let me chain you up, or, sapristi! I’ll dash your brains out, -I’ll tear the liver out of you, I’ll poke your red eyes out, I’ll cut -off your bloodthirsty tongue. Sacré! I give you three minutes by the -clock, and, ventre gris! if you don’t obey me, I’ll be the death of -you. Come, you insolent, audacious ruffian. Come this moment!’ - -But the dog paid not the slightest attention to the entreaties of -Adolphe and the threats of Gustave. - -Lindet folded his arms, and looked on the men contemptuously. They -were both afraid of the hound, but pretended that they were not. - -‘You must give him rein,’ said Adolphe; ‘he will exhaust himself, and -the poulet will be an angel once more.’ - -‘Not for a moment,’ roared Gustave; ‘suffer that demon an inch of -liberty; never! He shall be chained to a block of stone,--he shall -not move a paw, he shall not open his mouth, he shall not wink an -eye. He shall have no meat for a thousand days, till the devil in him -is expelled!’ - -‘I will fetch the dear fellow a sponge-cake. I know he loves sweets, -do you not, my Poulet? And above all sweets, sponge-cake; yes, in one -moment! Be gentle till my return.’ - -‘I will get my double-weighted whip, with lead in it, and fifty -thousand knots in the lash, and nails in each knot, and the nails -rusty, and crooked, and spiked. Ah! ha! they will make the devil -jump; they will make the devil bleed! Sapristi! I will cut and chop -and mangle his accursed hide.’ - -‘Bah!’ said a creaky voice. - -M. Foulon was there. He had heard the noise, which was indeed -deafening, and had descended to the yard from his room. He was in -his brown topcoat, and the little wiry pigtail with its huge bow -protruded over it like a monstrous dragon-fly that had alighted on -his collar. - -‘Bah! you are three fools,’ said he; then, drawing his great gold -snuff-box from his breast pocket, he poured some of the dust into -his hand, snuffed it up himself, strewing his face with particles -of tobacco, then he emptied half that remained in the box into his -hand, and walked leisurely up to Poulet. - -‘Eh bien, Poulet!’ said he, with a tone of mingled banter and -defiance. The hound turned its head instantly, snarled, cowered, and -the old man flung the snuff into its face. - -‘Now you may go and wink and sneeze your superfluous spirits away, -you chicken, you!’ Foulon continued; ‘now you may go to your darling -brother Pigeon, and you may tell him that you do not like snuff, that -snuff is expensive, because of the excise; that we have a monopoly of -tobacco, and that the revenue gains by tobacco. Do you understand, -Poulet? Well, go and tell Pigeon all about it. Here, I will help -you.’ He caught the end of the chain, and drew the dog after him to -its kennel. The brute’s attention was engrossed by its own distress, -the snuff in its eyes blinded it, the snuff up its nose afflicted it -with sneezing, and down its throat choked it. - -Foulon called to Gustave for a hammer. Adolphe ran with alacrity to -look for one, Gustave brought one. The old man calmly snuffed again, -then took the hammer and riveted the staple. ‘Now, then, you rascal,’ -said he, turning abruptly upon the footman; ‘do you not see that you -have left Monsieur le Curé outside the gate? How thoughtless, how -unmannerly!’ - -Adolphe bounded to the railing and unlocked the iron gate. Thomas -Lindet walked past him, and went straight towards Monsieur Foulon. - -The old gentleman removed his hat and bowed courteously; the priest, -absorbed in the purpose of his visit, had forgotten these courtesies. -He now bent towards Foulon stiffly, and raised his shovel hat. - -‘You have done me an honour I never hoped to have enjoyed. This day -you have made me a proud man; hitherto I have been humble. Beware, my -dear curé, or you will blow me up into extravagant conceit.’ - -Lindet looked at him with surprise. - -‘You did me the honour of preaching an observation I made within your -hearing to my excellent son-in-law, the good Berthier. I did not know -that my remarks were so valuable, so deserving of repetition.’ - -‘I have come to speak of quite another matter,’ said Lindet. - -‘Indeed! I thought your visit was one of congratulation to the poor -old man, Foulon, on having made a shrewd and pertinent remark at -last--at last, after so many years of stupidity, Foulon has given -promise of being witty and wise. But allow me to observe that you did -not give my remarks exactly as they were made. Not that a word or -two is of consequence, but still accuracy is a point--a point, you -understand, we revenue farmers learn to appreciate.’ - -‘Sir, I came here----’ - -‘Pardon me, my dear curé, we will stick to the point. The expressions -I used were these. “Bah!--” you did not render that interjection in -your version. Now, that interjection is expressive; besides, it is -characteristic; I always use it. Well, I said, “Bah! if the peasants -are hungry, let them browse grass. Wait till I am minister, I will -make them eat hay; my horses eat hay.” You left out the words “wait -till I am minister.” Be exact, my good friend; exactness is a virtue.’ - -‘M. Foulon, I have come here----’ - -‘One moment, my good curé; here is a little lesson of Christian -forgiveness for you to take home with you. This day you desired to -turn loose these hungry peasants on me; this day I have chained up a -savage bloodhound that was ravening to be at your throat. Now, what -have you to say?’ - -‘I want to know where is the girl Gabrielle André, whom your -son-in-law, M. Berthier, and you, M. Foulon, carried out of church -this afternoon?’ - -‘Bah! I am ashamed of my good, model curé. He is as bad as we naughty -laymen, and runs after pretty girls and petticoats.’ - -Lindet clenched his hands and teeth. - -‘She is your charming niece, is she not? Ah, ha! my sad scapegrace of -a curé!’ - -‘M. Foulon, I will not have this,’ said the priest, passionately; -‘this insult is intolerable.’ - -‘Then you can always leave the court,’ answered the old man; ‘see! -the door is open. But we will not quarrel. Come along into the hall -and have some refreshment.’ - -Lindet stamped. The imperturbable coolness and insolence of the old -gentleman exasperated his fiery spirit. - -‘Come, come, cool down,’ said Foulon; ‘I did not mean to irritate -you. Is the girl your relative?’ - -‘No.’ - -‘Of course, then, she is one of your parishioners?’ - -‘No, she is not.’ - -‘Then, pardon me, but I am surprised at your taking so much trouble, -and running the risk of being torn to pieces by those villanous dogs, -to make enquiries about her. I will answer all your enquiries with -the utmost frankness, if you can assure me that her father authorized -you to come here and demand her.’ - -Lindet’s face became crimson. He bit his lips with vexation. That he -was completely at the old man’s mercy, he felt; and he was conscious -that the revenue-farmer was making him ridiculous. - -‘I insist on knowing whether the girl is here. I know her father and -her, and I have a perfect right to make these enquiries. I now ask to -see her. You dare not keep her here against her father’s and her own -will.’ - -‘You are the most inconsequent of curés,’ exclaimed Foulon, laughing -gently; ‘you ask to see her, and you ask at the same time whether she -is here. I neither say that she is here, nor that she is not here. -As to your seeing her, that is out of the question. If she be not -here, how can I show her to you? If she be here, I do not bring the -chambermaids into the courtyard to receive pastoral exhortations.’ - -Whilst speaking with Lindet, the old gentleman had moved slowly -towards the gates of the yard: Lindet had followed him, without -observing whither he was conducting him. Thus Foulon had drawn him -outside the rails. Now, having finished this last insulting speech, -spoken with an air of politeness and cordiality, he suddenly turned -on his heel, stepped within, slammed and locked the iron gates of the -enclosure, leaving Lindet without. - -The curé attempted to speak again; but Foulon retired, waving his -hand and hat, and bowing courteously. Then he made the circuit of the -house, in hopes of finding another door, but was baffled. It is true -there was a small door in a high wall, which led into the garden, but -it was fastened from within. The terrace was so raised, being built -up from the slope, that it could not be reached, and on every other -side the château was enclosed by walls and rails. - -Lindet wasted a few minutes in making the round of the premises, -feeling all the while that he should be at a loss what course to -pursue, even if he did penetrate once more within. At last he -desisted and retired, satisfied that the only person who could claim -access to the girl, with any chance of obtaining it, was her father; -and Lindet was convinced that he could not be stimulated to make the -attempt. - -Had Lindet accompanied André home to les Hirondelles, instead of -rashly going himself in quest of Gabrielle, he would have done her a -greater service. - -When Matthias André returned to les Hirondelles, he found that -the water had subsided almost as rapidly as it had risen. The -plank-bridge was no longer submerged, and the garden and house were -clear. The corn-field presented the appearance of a large pond, but -that was because the dyke retained the water; there being no gap in -it, there was no drainage. - -To his amazement, he saw M. Berthier seated at his door. André -scowled at him, but deferentially removed his bonnet. - -‘Good evening, man!’ said the Intendant, nodding, but not rising from -his seat. ‘Your name is Matthias André, is it not?’ - -‘Yes, monsieur.’ - -‘Ah! your daughter was at the church this afternoon?’ - -‘She was, monsieur, and I cannot find her----’ - -‘I know, I know,’ interrupted Berthier; ‘I can tell you more about -her than you could tell me.’ - -‘Monsieur, I heard that you and your honoured father-in-law -had removed her from the church, when she fainted during the -thunderstorm.’ - -‘You heard aright,’ said Berthier. ‘There was evident danger in -remaining within. The spire might fall at any moment and bury -those in the church under its ruins. We saw a girl near us fall, -and thinking she had been injured by the lightning, we carried her -out and transported her to my house. We did not know where was her -home. She is now with my wife, Madame Berthier, who has taken great -interest in her.’ - -André remained standing before him with his eyes on the ground. He -knew that Berthier was deceiving him, and the Intendant did not care -to do more than give his account of what had really taken place, a -superficially plausible colour. - -‘I see your wheat is under water,’ said the stout gentleman, pointing -with his thumb towards the submerged field, and then, drawing his -handkerchief from his pocket, he twisted the corner into a little -screw and ran it round the lids of his eyes in succession. - -‘Yes, monsieur, all my crop is destroyed.’ - -‘And what have you to subsist upon now?’ - -‘Nothing!’ - -‘Can you pay the tax?’ - -‘I do not know.’ - -‘Have you any money laid by, to help you out of your difficulties? -Of course, in prosperous times, you have put aside a nice sum to fall -back upon?’ - -‘Monsieur! how can a peasant lay by? The revenue absorbs all his -profits, and leaves him barely enough for his subsistence. He may -live in times of plenty; in times of scarcity he must die.’ - -‘Then what do you intend doing?’ - -Matthias shrugged his shoulders. - -‘All depends on the winter. I have a few potatoes. I must sell this -wet corn--it will all be mouldy--for what it will fetch. Ah! if I -could have garnered it three days ago, or even yesterday. I shall -starve.’ He groaned. - -‘And your daughter will starve with you!’ - -André answered with a scowl. - -‘Do you owe any money?’ - -‘Yes; I owe Jacob Maître, the usurer, four hundred crowns.’ - -‘You cannot pay him?’ - -‘No. I have been in debt a long while; he threatens, and I had hoped -to pay him off a part this year.’ - -‘And now he must wait?’ - -‘He will not wait.’ - -‘How so?’ - -‘He will put me in prison.’ - -‘And whilst you are in prison, what will your daughter do?’ - -‘God knows!’ André bowed his head lower, and began to mutter to -himself. - -‘What are you saying?’ asked the Intendant. - -‘Nothing,’ answered the peasant, doggedly. - -‘But I will hear,’ said Berthier. - -‘I said if God would not provide, then the devil must.’ - -‘Goodman André, that is a somewhat shocking sentiment. Besides, it -is not altogether true; there may be a half measure, you know. Now -madame, my wife,--a very worthy, pious woman--a little of heaven one -way, but a deuced black and ugly one--a little of hell the other -way,--she is the person to do it. She has commissioned me to ask -you to allow her to retain your child as her servant. That is her -message. She wants an active girl to wait upon her, and she has -taken a fancy to your daughter. I do not interfere in household -matters--understand that--but my good wife, being unable, or -disinclined, to come here and see you on the subject, has persuaded -me to do her work. I am goodnatured, I am fat; fat people are always -goodnatured, so I yield to my wife in everything. I am her slave--her -factotum. It is a pity to be goodnatured; one is imposed upon, even -by the best of wives.’ - -André did not speak; through the corner of his eyes he was -contemplating his submerged corn-field. He knew still that -Berthier was deceiving him, and he was calculating the chances -of the approaching winter. Would his potatoes last, even if Jacob -Maître did not come down upon him? Would not the usurer seize on -everything,--his cow, his horse, his cart, his potatoes, his bed and -furniture, his very clothes? - -Berthier took some money out of his pocket, and made twelve little -heaps on the seat beside him. - -‘What do you say to me, in my generosity, giving you six months’ -wage for your girl in advance? This is very reckless of me, because -I really do not know whether she will suit madame or not. Madame is -capricious, she sometimes sends away a dozen servants in the year. -However, as you are in great distress, and I am constitutionally -liberal--fat people are always liberal--I say, well, I will risk it. -You shall have six months’ wage in advance, and the wage is good; it -is high, very high. Count.’ - -André touched one of the little heaps with his finger, and upset the -silver pieces, that he might reckon their number; then he counted the -heaps, and multiplied the sum in one by six; then he doubled that. - -He would not speak yet. - -Berthier substituted gold for some of the silver. Rarely had gold -passed through the peasant’s fingers. He took the piece up in his -trembling palm, turned it over, and looked at it fixedly. His hand -shook as with the palsy, and the gold piece fell from it into the -mud. André’s brow became beaded with perspiration. He stooped, and -picking it up hastily, went to a pitcher and washed it reverently, -and then replaced it on the bench. - -‘Well, man!’ said the Intendant, taking his pocket-handkerchief and -spreading it on his knee. It was stained. - -Matthias moodily entered the stable, produced a pick, and walked -into his potato-croft. Berthier stared after him, uncertain whether -by this action he designed in his boorish manner to express his -determination to break off the transaction. Matthias began to dig up -a row of potatoes, and Berthier saw him take up the roots, and count -the tubers on each, and measure them with his eye. - -Presently he returned with a lap-full; these he measured in a bushel, -and made a rough calculation of the number he should gather from his -little croft. - -The gloom on his face became deeper. Then he went into the cow-house -and remained there a few minutes. After that he entered the little -orchard of some dozen trees, and estimated the yield of apples; then -he returned to the house, opened the clothes-chest, and threw all -the articles of wearing apparel on the table and bench, and made a -mental valuation of them. There were some silver ornaments,--round -perforated buttons and a brooch that Gabrielle wore on great fêtes; -an heirloom. The peasant was unable to estimate their value, so he -brought them out to the Intendant, and said, sulkily: - -‘What are these worth?’ - -Berthier weighed them in his hand, laughed, and said: - -‘The value of the silver is trifling--five or eight francs, at the -outside.’ - -The wretched father carried them back into the house. - -Presently he came out in a vacillating, uneasy way--his mind hardly -made up. - -‘You promise me that it is only madame who will have anything to do -with my Gabrielle?’ he said. - -‘I promise you that! of course I will. She will be with madame night -and day; will scarcely be out of her sight. Will that content you?’ - -André still mused, and refrained from giving a decided answer. - -Just then he caught sight of the money-lender, Jacob Maître, a -short-built, red-whiskered and bearded man, with thick overhanging -red brows, standing on the dyke, contemplating the havoc made in -André’s field by the flood. - -That sight determined him. He bent, gathered up six of the heaps of -silver between his palms, rushed with it into his cottage, and bolted -the door. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - -After Berthier had seen Gabrielle safely locked up in one of the -towers that formed the extremities of his house, at Foulon’s advice -he had visited the Isle des Hirondelles. - -Madame Berthier had returned from the church, and was in her own -chamber, at the farther end of the house. - -This unhappy woman was Foulon’s daughter; towards her he had never -shown the least paternal love. Possibly it was not in his nature to -exhibit love. She had never been beautiful, having inherited her -father’s hatchet-face; in addition to her plainness was her colour; -her complexion was of an ashen blue-grey, the result of having taken -much nitrate of silver medicinally. Her plainness and her complexion -being neither of them attractive, Berthier made no pretence of loving -her, and Foulon did not exact it of him. Berthier, the Intendant, or -Sheriff of Paris, a man of humble extraction, being descended from a -race of provincial attorneys, had worked his way into prominence and -power by his shrewdness and unscrupulousness. He had married Foulon’s -daughter for the sake of some money she inherited from her mother, -but chiefly in hopes of one day possessing his father-in-law’s large -fortune. - -Foulon had begun his career as an intendant of the army, and had -amassed immense wealth by victualling badly and charging high. The -soldiers fasted or fed on garbage, that Foulon might fatten. He was -both a contractor for the army, and one of the commission appointed -to watch and check the contractors. - -Madame Berthier was naturally a woman of a warm and affectionate -disposition; but meeting with no response from her husband or her -father, and, through repeated humiliations to which she was subjected -by her profligate husband, all that warmth had accumulated into -a fire which burned in her bosom, consuming her, disturbing her -intellect, and wrecking her constitution. - -She was a tall thin woman, dressed wholly in black. Her hair was -grey, a silvery grey, contrasting painfully with the blue-grey of -her face. Her large hazel eyes were clear and bright, but their -brilliance was unnatural, and impressed a stranger with a conviction -that they betokened a mental condition on the borders of insanity. - -Her sitting-room was quite square, with a window to the east, -another to the west, and a third to the south. It was painted yellow -throughout; the curtains were of orange damask, and a patch of -yellow rug occupied the centre of the polished floor. - -In the midst of this chamber sat Madame Berthier, making cat’s -cradles, her favourite amusement, and one with which she would occupy -herself during long hours of loneliness. By constant practice she -was able to accomplish all the usual changes with the threads very -rapidly, and she was frequently puzzling out new arrangements with an -interest and application completely engrossing. - -On her shoulders couched a Persian cat, of great size, with long -hair. It had been white originally, but Madame Berthier had dyed it -saffron; the saffron stains were on her grey hands, as she wrought -with her threads. The appearance of the cat was unpleasant, for being -by nature an Albino, its eyes were pink, and they seemed unnaturally -faint, when contrasted with the vivid colouring of its coat. The -cat sat very composedly on her shoulder, with its round yellow face -against hers, and its paws dangling on her bosom. - -‘Be patient, Gabriel,’ said she to the cat, who moved uneasily on her -shoulder, as his quick ear caught the sound of steps in the corridor. -‘We must all acquire patience; it is a heavenly virtue, but it is, -oh! so hard to obtain.’ - -Berthier tapped at the door, opened it, and introduced himself and -Gabrielle. - -The cat rose, balancing itself nicely where it had been reposing, -set up its back and tail, stretched itself, and then re-settled. - -‘Well now, madame,’ said Monsieur Berthier; ‘making cradles still, I -see.’ - -The lady worked vigorously with her threads, and did not look up or -answer her husband. - -‘Look this way, Madame Plomb.’ - -She threw up her head, bit her lower lip, and stamped her foot -impatiently. As her eye lit on Gabrielle it remained fixed, and her -complexion became more deadly. - -‘I have brought a new servant to attend on you,’ continued Berthier. -‘Are you listening to me, Madame Plomb?’ - -Again she stamped, but she would not speak. - -‘You will take great care of her, my Angel! and you will pay especial -regard to her morals, mind that, my Beauty! I have promised her -father that she shall be under your charge, and that you shall take -care that she be virtuous and pious.’ - -Madame Berthier would neither look at him, nor speak to him. He knew -that she struggled daily with herself to maintain composure, and to -restrain her tongue, in his presence, and he amused himself inventing -a thousand means of insulting and irritating her, till he had wrought -her into frenzy. - -‘I am sure you will like this new addition to your little staff,’ -continued the Intendant, placing his large hands on Gabrielle’s -shoulders, and thrusting her forward. - -The girl cowered under his touch, and an expression of horror and -loathing passed across her face. Madame Berthier, whose eyes were -fastened on her, saw this and laughed aloud. - -‘What! not a word for your Zoozoo! Cruel madame, not to look at, or -speak to, your own devoted husband.’ - -No; not a look or a word. The poor wife sought to ignore him. She -began diligently to weave her cat’s cradles, though her eyes still -rested on Gabrielle. Maybe she trembled a little, for the yellow cat -mewed fretfully, and shifted its position slightly, then rubbed its -head against her blue cheek, as if beseeching not to be disturbed. - -‘This little mignonne is a gem--a beauty of the first water. You must -be very careful of her; such pretty little faces would bewitch half -mankind. Look, madame! what a ripe luscious tint, what a rich and -glowing complexion, like a peach, is it not? It is flesh--actually -warm, soft, rosy flesh; it is not _lead_.’ - -Madame Berthier uttered a cry at this coarse insult, and covered her -face with her hands. - -‘You should wear gloves, Madame Plomb,’ continued her husband, ‘and -then you might cover your face with some prospect of concealing your -complexion. But what do I see? You have been dyeing your hands with -saffron. Actually trying to gild lead.’ - -The wretched woman threw down her cat, sprang to her feet and fled -out of the room, down the corridor which extended the length of the -house, from one tower to the other. She was caught almost instantly -in her father’s arms. - -‘How now!’ exclaimed the old man. ‘How is this, my little Imogène? In -a pet! one of your little naughty tantrums! Naughty Imogène!’ - -‘My father!’ cried the unhappy woman, ‘why did you marry me to that -man?’ - -‘Tut, tut,’ said M. Foulon, disengaging himself from her. ‘You ask me -that so often, that I am obliged to formularize my answers and your -questions into a sort of catechism. How does it begin? Ah! Where were -you married? _Answer_: At S. Sulpice. Who by? _Answer_: By Father -Mafitte. What were you asked? _Answer_: Wilt thou have this man to -thy wedded husband? _Answer_: I will. Now, then, whose doing was it -that you were married to Monsieur Berthier? Why, your own, child!’ - -‘Father, take me away.’ - -‘Imogène, what nonsense! May I offer you my arm to conduct you back -to your yellow chamber?’ - -‘Father,’ she wrung her hands, ‘he insults me.’ - -‘He has his little jokes about your complexion, eh? Bah! you should -not be such a baby as to mind his playful banter. He is a boy, gay at -heart, and very facetious.’ - -‘It is not that,’ moaned the wretched woman; ‘he brings young girls -here,--and I his wife have to receive them, and---- Oh, father! take -me away, or I shall go raging mad!’ - -‘Bah! young men will be young men--not that Berthier is such a youth, -either! You must not exact too much. Look at your face in the glass, -and then say,--can he find much satisfaction therein? Is it not -natural that the butterfly should seek brighter and fairer flowers?’ - -‘You have no heart.’ - -‘Imogène, I never pretended to possess those gushing sentiments which -make fools of men and women. I am a man of reason, not sentiment. I -have no passions. You never saw me angry, jealous, loving,--never! I -think, I reason, I calculate, I do not feel and sympathize; I am all -intelligence, not emotion. Bah! Take things coolly. Say to yourself, -What is reasonable? Is it reasonable that Berthier should profess -ardent passion for me, who am plain and blue? No, it is preposterous; -therefore I acquiesce in what is natural.’ - -‘You take his part against me.’ - -‘I take the part of common sense, Imogène. I cannot say to Berthier, -be a hypocrite, go against nature. I always accept human nature as I -find it, and I never attempt to force the stream into a channel too -strait for it.’ - -Madame Berthier stood looking from side to side distractedly. ‘I find -no help anywhere!’ she moaned. - -‘Imogène, you have plenty to eat, good wine to drink, first-rate -cookery; you employ an accomplished milliner; your rooms are -handsomely furnished; you can drive out when it pleases you. What -more _can_ you want?’ - -‘Love,’ answered the poor woman. ‘I am always hungry. I am always in -pain here,’ she pointed to her breast; ‘I want, I want, I want, and I -never get what I desire.’ Then uttering another cry, like that which -had escaped her when her husband insulted her, and running along the -corridor from side to side, like a bird striving to escape, she beat -the walls on this side, then on that, with her hands, uttering at -intervals her piercing wail. - -Berthier came into the corridor and joined his father-in-law. ‘There -is nothing more offensive to persons of sentiment than fact,’ said -Foulon, brushing the tobacco from his nose and cheeks. ‘Before fact -down go Religion, Poetry, Ethics, Art. People live in a dream-world, -which they people with phantoms. Show them that all is a delusion, -and they are wretched--they love to be deceived. Bah! I hate -sentiment. It is on sentiment that Religion and Morality are based. -What is sentiment? On my honour, I cannot tell.’ - -On reaching the end of the corridor, Madame Berthier stood still, and -turning towards her husband and father, she raised her hands, and -cried, as she did in church: - -‘Avenge me on my adversaries!’ - -Then, becoming calmer, she called: - -‘Gabriel!’ For the cat was standing at her door, and was mewing. The -strangely-dyed beast, hearing her call, darted past the two men, and -seating itself before her, looked up into her face. - -‘My faithful Gabriel!’ she said. Then with a single bound it reached -her shoulder, and placing its fore paws together balanced itself, -whilst she walked slowly up the passage. The appearance of the woman -in the dusk, in her long black gown and shawl, with her frightful -head on one side to give room for the cat to stand comfortably, was -wild and ghostly. - -She approached her husband and her father slowly. As she passed them, -she turned her face towards Foulon, and said: ‘I have looked to you -for help,’ she touched him with her stained finger. ‘I have looked to -you for help,’ she touched Berthier on the breast, turning to him; -‘I find none.’ Throwing her hand up and pointing out of the window -towards the evening star, that glittered above the horizon,--‘Queen -of heaven, I have looked to you! And,’ she continued in a low voice, -hoarse with suppressed emotion, ‘if she gives me none, I shall seek -help in myself.’ - -‘That is sensible, Imogène,’ said Foulon; ‘one should find resources -in one’s self.’ - -‘Mind,’ she said, sharply; ‘I ask for love. If I do not get it, I -take revenge.’ Then she swept into her room, and shut the door. - -Gabrielle was there in her white dress and veil, scarcely less pale -than her garments. The roses in her wreath exhaled a strong odour as -they faded. She stood where she had been placed by Berthier, nearly -in the middle of the room. The evening was rapidly closing in. The -sun had set, but through the west window the light from the horizon -glimmered. - -Madame Berthier threw herself into a seat and looked at Gabrielle. - -‘Are you a bride?’ she asked, in a harsh voice. - -‘No, madame,’ answered the girl, trembling. - -‘Ah! no. You were one of those in procession to-day.’ - -‘Yes, madame.’ - -‘How came you here?’ - -‘Madame, I think I fainted at the thunderclap, and I remember no -more, till I was brought through the yard into this house.’ - -‘Have you been here before?’ - -‘Madame, I have been to the Chateau sometimes with my roses.’ - -‘What roses?’ - -‘The bunches that I sell.’ - -‘Then you are the flower-girl, are you, whom I have seen at the gate -sometimes?’ - -‘Yes, madame.’ - -‘Why have you been brought here, do you know?’ - -Gabrielle burst into tears, threw herself on her knees, and -stretching out her hands towards the lady entreated:--‘Oh madame, -dear, good madame! send me home, pray let me out of this dreadful -house. Madame, I want to go home to my father; pray, good madame, for -the love of Our Lady!’ - -‘Child,’ said Berthier’s wife, ‘are you not here by free choice?’ - -‘Oh no, no!’ cried Gabrielle. ‘Only let me go, that I may run home.’ - -‘Where do you live?’ - -‘At Les Hirondelles.’ - -‘What is your name?’ - -‘Gabrielle André.’ - -‘Gabrielle?’ - -‘Yes, madame.’ - -The strange woman uttered a scream of joy; caught her cat in her -hands, and held it up before the girl. - -‘See, see!’ she said; ‘this is Gabriel, my own precious Gabriel!’ - -She softened towards the poor child at once. - -‘Come nearer,’ she said. ‘What have you let fall? Ah! your taper. -They brought that with you, did they?’ - -‘Madame, I think I had it fast in my hand.’ - -‘Wait,’ said the lady. She struck a light, and kindled the taper, -which Gabrielle had raised from the floor. - -‘Just so,’ continued she; ‘hold the light before you, and remain -kneeling, that I may see your face; but do not kneel to me; see! turn -yonder, towards the western sky, and the dying light, and the evening -star.’ - -Gabrielle slightly shifted her position, too frightened to do -anything except obey mechanically. - -‘You are very pretty,’ said Madame Berthier. ‘How very beautiful you -are! Do you know that?’ - -‘Madame!’ Gabrielle was too much alarmed to colour. - -‘Now, tell me, do you know M. Berthier?’ - -‘Oh, madame!’ the girl said, with a sob, as her tears began to flow; -‘I dread him most of all. He frightens me. He is wicked; he pursues -me with his eyes. Father had just promised that I should never come -to this house again, because, because----’ she was interrupted by -her tears. - -‘Go on, Gabrielle.’ - -‘Because he ran after me in the forest, and the curé saved me from -him, just as he caught me up.’ - -‘You do not like Berthier; I saw it in your face.’ - -‘Oh, madame! how could I?’ - -The lady laughed a little, chuckling to herself. Presently she -addressed Gabrielle again. - -‘Do you know me?’ - -‘No, madame.’ - -‘Do you know my name?’ - -‘You are called Madame Plomb,’ said Gabrielle, hesitatingly. - -The woman stamped passionately on the floor, and jerked the yellow -cat off her shoulder. - -‘Who told you that? Why do you call me that?’ - -‘Oh, madame! I am so sorry, but I heard Monsieur Berthier address you -by that name. I meant no offence.’ - -‘Listen to me, child.’ The lady drew her chair towards Gabrielle. -‘Give me your light.’ She snatched the taper from her trembling hand, -and waved it before her face. ‘Look on me,’ she said; ‘yes, look, -look. Now you know why they call me the Leaden!’ She blew out the -candle, and continued: ‘It is only those who hate me who call me by -that name; only those, remember, whom I hate. Beware how you call me -that again.’ - -She leaned back, and remained silent for some minutes. Gabrielle’s -tears flowed fast, and she sobbed heavily. She was not only -frightened, but weary and faint, and sick at heart. - -‘Shall I protect you?’ asked the lady, at length. - -‘Madame! I pray you,’ pleaded Gabrielle, through her tears. - -‘Then I will. He shall not touch you. You shall sleep in my little -ante-room.’ - -‘May I not go home?’ - -‘Alas! poor child, how can you? The gates and doors are locked. The -walls are high; and if you scaled the walls, the bloodhounds would be -after you. Perhaps you may go home soon, but not now; you cannot now!’ - -After another pause, she said: - -‘Gabrielle, stand up.’ - -The girl instantly rose. - -‘Gabriel, Gabrielle, my cat and you! I love my cat, why not you? Will -you kiss me?’ - -Passionately she caught the girl to her bosom, and kissed her brow -and lips and cheek. Then laughing, she said: - -‘Yes! Gabrielle, you must be here awhile, and you shall hold the -threads, and help to make cat’s cradles.’ - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - -The moon, in her first quarter, hung in a cloudless sky over the -valley of the Charentonne, reflected from every patch and pool of -water. The poplars, like frosted silver, cast black shadows over the -white ground. The frogs were clamorous, for their domain had been -unexpectedly extended. - -Thomas Lindet, in his attic, was putting together a few clothes into -a bundle, to take with him to Évreux, as he was about to start next -morning, after the first mass at six. He occupied two rooms in a -small cottage opposite the church. It was an old house, in plaster -and timber, with a thatched roof, and consisted of a ground-floor -and an upper storey. The ground-floor was occupied by an old woman, -and the priest tenanted the rooms above. His sitting-room, in which -he was making up his bundle, was clean; the walls were laden with -whitewash, as was also the sloping ceiling. The window was covered -with a blue-and-white striped curtain of bedticking; the chairs were -of wood, unpolished, with wooden seats. Over the chimney-piece were -a crucifix and two little prints, one of Jean Jacques Rousseau, the -other of S. Jerome. His small library occupied a few deal shelves on -one side of the fireplace. Besides his breviary, there were few books -in binding, except an old copy of Atto of Vercellæ on the ‘Sufferings -and Persecutions of the Church,’ and a Geoffrey of Vendôme on -‘Investitures.’ But there were many pamphlets and polemical tracts, -such as were circulated at that time in France, and in paper covers, -torn and dirty, were Montesquieu’s ‘Esprit des Lois,’ and Rousseau’s -‘Emile.’ - -Having completed his preparations, the priest blew out his candle, -drew the curtain, and looked out of his window, pierced through the -thatch. The church of S. Cross was exactly opposite, on the other -side of the small square, and the moon brought its sculpture into -relief. The gothic tower, surmounted by an ugly bulbous cap, cut the -clear grey sky; the delicate tracery of the windows stood out like -white lace against the gloom of the bell-chamber. - -The west front had been remodelled in 1724, and, though Lindet, -with the taste of the period, admired it, no one at the present day -would approve of the stiff Italian pedimented doorway, with its four -pillars incrusted in the wall, or of the niche in the same style, -containing the effigy of the Empress Helena bearing the cross, which -intrudes upon the elegant gothic west window. - -After the excitement of the day, a reaction had set in, and Lindet -felt dispirited, and disposed to question the judiciousness of his -purpose. He leaned on the window-sill listening to the trill of the -frogs, sweetened by distance, and to the throbbing of the clock in -the tower. From where he stood, he could see the rosy glimmer of -the sanctuary lamp, through the west window of the church. At this -window, looking towards the light which burned before the Host, he -was wont every evening to say his prayers, before retiring to rest. - -He put his delicate hands together. The mechanism of the clock -whirred, and then midnight struck. The notes boomed over the sleeping -town, and lost themselves among the wooded hills. All at once -Lindet’s mind turned to the poor child for whose preservation he had -laboured ineffectually that day. Then, fervently, he prayed for her. - -She was seated at the window in Madame Plomb’s antechamber, fast -asleep, with her head on her hands. The window was wide open, and the -shutters were back, so that the moon and air entered, and made the -chamber light and balmy. - -About nine o’clock, the cook had been to madame’s room to tell -Gabrielle that she was to sleep with her at the other end of the -house; but Madame Berthier, full of violence, had struck and driven -the woman out of the room, and she had retired, very angry, and -threatening to tell ‘Monsieur.’ The woman had been as good as her -word; but Berthier and Foulon being together in the billiard-room -playing, she had not ventured to interrupt them till they left, -which was at midnight. The cook was very angry, and, like an insulted -servant, threatened to leave the house. - -‘Ah! so so!’ exclaimed Berthier. ‘We shall see. You were right to -obey my orders. Gustave! come here; follow me, Antoinette; the girl -shall be removed immediately, awake or asleep, by gentleness or by -force.’ - -The silver light struck across the face of the sleeping girl, still -wet with tears, and streaked the floor. An acacia intercepted some -of the light, and as a light wind stirred, it produced an uneasy -shiver over the floor. A leaf, caught in a cobweb, pattered timidly -against one of the window-panes. A ghost-moth fluttered about the -room, its white wings gleaming in the moonlight, as it swerved and -wheeled, while its shadow swerved and wheeled in rhythm, on the -sheet of Gabrielle’s couch, as though there were two moths, one -white, the other black, dancing up and down before one another. The -shadows of the acacia foliage made faces on the floor. Dark profiles, -hatchet-shaped, with glistening eyes and mouths that opened and shut, -faces of old women munching silently, silhouettes of demons butting -with their horns, or nodding, as though they would say,--Wait, wait, -wait! We shall see! - -The white veil of the sleeping girl lay on the floor, in a line. The -flickering lights crossed it, and the shadows of the leaves resembled -black flat insects, and long slugs, scrambling over it, in a mad -race. The foliage of the acacia whispered, and the pines of the -forest close by hummed as the wind stirred their myriad vibrating -spines. The air laden with the fragrance of the resin, was not balmy -only, but warm as well. An owl in the woods called at intervals -to-whoo! and waited, expecting an answer, then called again. Then -the night-hawk screeched, and fluttered among the trees. In the -garden-plots whole colonies of crickets chirped a long quivering song -in a thousand parts, perfectly harmonized, all night long, with a -rapidity of execution perfectly amazing. - -From Bernay sounded distant, yet distinct, the chime of midnight. -At the same moment the hounds in the yard became restless, and gave -tongue spasmodically. The girl sighed in sleep, and turned her head -from the light; then she woke, started up, and uttered a scream. The -door of the room was open, and Berthier stood in it, looking at her, -with the cook and Gustave in the background. At the same moment, -a black figure glided from behind the window-curtains, and stood -between him and her. - -‘Sacré! Madame Plomb, you are up late,’ observed the Intendant, -advancing into the chamber, and shutting the door behind him upon the -two servants. ‘May I trouble you, Madame Plomb, to retire to your -couch?’ He stepped towards her. - -The woman drew herself up, raised her arm, and the moon flashed along -a slender steel blade she brandished. - -‘Nonsense, my charmer!’ said Berthier; ‘no acting with me. Put down -that little toy and begone.’ - -‘Stop!’ she exclaimed. ‘Do you see that veil there; there, beast, -there on the floor?’ - -‘Perfectly well, my angel.’ - -‘Pass over it, if you dare.’ - -‘I dare!’ he said scornfully, but without advancing. - -‘If your foot transgresses that limit, I swear, beast! it will be -your death.’ - -He looked at her; the moon was on her blue-grey face, and she looked -at him. Her countenance was terrible: in that light, it was like the -face of a fiend. - -‘You are a devil,’ he said. - -‘You have made me one,’ she answered. - -Deadly hatred glared out of her wild black eyes; there was resolution -in the set lips and hard brow, and Berthier felt that what his wife -threatened, that she would execute. He could not endure the flash and -glitter of her eye-balls, and he lowered his. - -‘I hate you,’ she muttered; ‘I hate you, beast! Do you think I should -shrink from _your_ blood? Is your blood so dear to me? Should I -shrink from your corpse--from your dead face? I have only seen the -living one, and that is to me so odious, that I long to see the -dead one; it is sure to be more pleasant. Those red inflamed eyes of -yours, are they so bewitching that I should not wish to close them -for ever? Those lips, which I have never kissed, beast! I promise to -kiss them one day. I promise it, remember. They shall be stiff and -cold then. That shall be my one and only kiss.’ - -The hounds barked furiously without, so furiously that they disturbed -the house. Adolphe opened his window and called: ‘Be quiet, my -children; be good boys, there! Pigeon and Poulet!’ - -Gustave roared from the window of the corridor: ‘A thousand devils! -shall I not murder you to-morrow, if you are not quiet this instant?’ - -The acacia creaked and crackled. - -Berthier moved towards the window, he was determined to disarm his -wife, if possible. - -‘Where are you going?’ she asked, sharply. - -‘I am going to look out, and see why the dogs are so furious.’ - -‘You cannot see into the yard from this window.’ - -‘No, but I can see if anyone is without.’ Next moment--‘Imogène! I -believe that there must be some one.’ - -She lowered her knife, with the fickleness of her disorder; the idea -distracted her attention. - -‘Where?’ - -‘Come and look.’ - -She stepped towards the window. Instantly, quick as thought, he -struck her wrist, and sent the knife flying from her grasp, across -the room. - -Gabrielle in an agony of terror cried, ‘My father! Oh, my father!’ - -Madame Berthier uttered a moan of pain and rage. Her husband would -have grappled with her at once, but that something whizzed in at -the open window, and struck him in the eye with such force that he -staggered backward, and the blood burst from the lid and streamed -over his cheek. - -Madame Berthier recovered her knife, and threatening him with it, -drove him, blinded with pain and blood, out of the room. - -Who can describe the horror of conscience to which Matthias André -was a prey that night? He remained after the departure of Berthier, -for some hours half stupefied, looking at the money which he held -in his hand; then he tied it up in a piece of rag, and placed it in -his bosom; but it was too heavy there, it seemed to weigh him down, -so he fastened it to the belt of his blouse, which he now put on. -To distract his mind, he began to replace in the boxes the clothes -he had drawn from them, but, as he huddled them in, unfolded, they -would not all go in. In the dusk, the garments which were not thus -disposed of looked like bodies of human beings waiting to be buried. -He threw out all the clothes from the trunks again, and began to fold -them, but he did this work clumsily, and there remained still one of -Gabrielle’s dresses uncoffered. The sight of this distressed him, it -reminded him of his daughter too painfully, so he hid it under the -table. Then he could not resist the desire to peer at it where it -lay, and the fancy came upon him that she lay there dead, and that -he had killed her; so he fled up the ladder into his loft, and cast -himself upon his bed. - -But there was no rest there. The transactions of that evening haunted -him. He tried to calculate what had best be done with the money; but -no! all he could think of was that this was the price of his child’s -honour and happiness. - -Remembering that he had not taken any supper, he descended the ladder -and sought in the dark for a potato pasty; but when he had found it -he could not eat it, for he considered that it had been made by _her_ -fingers. He tried to uncork a bottle of wine, but could not find the -screw, so he broke the neck, and drank from it thus; the broken glass -cut his lips, for his hand shook. Gabrielle’s old gown under the -table he could not see, it was too dark, but he was constrained by a -frenzied curiosity to creep towards it, and feel if it were there. -Yes; he felt it, and he shrank from the touch. - -The moon shone in at his bedroom window. The light distressed him, -when he returned to his couch; so he tried to block up the window by -erecting his coat against it, supported by a pitchfork and a broom. -It remained thus for just five minutes, and then the structure gave -way, and the moonlight flowed in again. - -André could bear the house no longer. He again descended the ladder, -stole past the table, and opening his door, went outside. He took -the path across the foot-bridge and entered the forest. He resolved -to ascend the hill, and see the outside of the château in which lay -his child. The way was dark, the shadows of the pines and beech-trees -obscured it, but the wretched man knew it well, and he walked along -it, trembling with fear. He heard voices in the forest, he saw faces -peeping from behind the tree-boles. The rustle of birds in the -pine-tops made him start; but he held on his way. - -When he reached the castle Malouve, he stood still. His brow was -dripping. The clock of Bernay parish church struck twelve. At the -same time the dogs scented him, and began to bark. - -The unhappy father prowled round the building, looking up at every -window, his every limb shaking with apprehension. - -Suddenly, from an open casement he heard a cry. He knew the tone -of that voice. The cry pierced his heart. He ran to the foot of -the building which rose from the sward at this spot, and looked up -at the window. An acacia-tree stood at a little distance from the -wall, and he proceeded to scramble up it. The trunk was smooth, and -presented no foot-hold. He was a clumsy man, and could not mount -well; the branches were brittle and broke with him. He heard voices -in the chamber whence his daughter’s cry had reached him, he grappled -with the tree and worked himself up a little way with his knees. -The leaves shook above him as though the acacia responded to every -pulsation of his heart. - -‘Father! Oh, my father!’ - -That call to him--it seemed denunciatory, reproachful--burst upon -his ear. He tore the money from his belt, and with all his force, he -hurled it through the window; then he slid down the tree and fled. - -He fled, but the cry pursued him; it echoed from every wall of the -château. He heard it in the bay of the bloodhounds; it came to him -from the dark aisles of the forest, the wind swept it after him; the -owl caught it up and towhoo’d it, the night-hawk screamed it. - -He put his hands to his ears to shut it out. But the cry was within -him, and it echoed through and through and through him-- - -‘Father! Oh, my father!’ - -The cry of a child betrayed by its own parent,--the cry of a slave -sold by its own father,--the cry of a soul given up to devils by -him who had given it being,--the cry of a loving heart against him -it had loved, against him for whom the hands had worked gladly, the -feet tripped nimbly, the lips smiled sweetly, and the eyes twinkled -blithely-- - -‘Father! Oh, my father!’ - -As he sprang over the stile, as he raced to the foot-bridge, as he -traversed it, from the white face that glared up at him from the -water, from the rustling reeds, from the soughing willows, from his -own white and black home as he reached it-- - -‘Father! Oh, my father!’ - -In his horror and despair he threw himself in at the door, and ran -towards the ladder. He scrambled up it; and drawing it up after him -fastened a rope that lay coiled on his floor to it, and he noosed the -other end about his neck, and he crawled to the hole in the floor -through which he had mounted and drawn the ladder, and the cry came -up to him from below. - -He leaped towards it, and so sought to silence it. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - -All Évreux was out of doors, as Thomas Lindet, travel-soiled and -weary, entered the city. The double avenue of chestnuts before the -church and seminary of S. Taurin was thronged with people, and a -large triumphal arch spanned the road just beyond the square, the -sides adorned with pilasters of gilt paper and banks of flowers, -and the summit crowned with a banner emblazoned with the lilies of -France. In the tympanum of the arch was a niche lined with crimson -cloth destined to contain a statue of S. Louis, lent for the occasion -by the superior of the seminary. The raising of the pious king to -his destined position was an operation which engaged all eyes, and -provided conversation for all tongues. - -It is wonderful how much noise and commotion attends the execution of -a very simple performance in France. Every spectator is by the fact -of his presence constituted an adviser, and those engaged on the work -which attracts observation harangue and expostulate and protest at -the top of their voices. - -Those whose task it was to translate S. Louis from the ground to his -elevated pedestal, proceeded with their duty in a somewhat clumsy and -unworkmanlike manner. A pulley had been erected at the apex of the -gable above the arch, and a cord ran over it into the midst of the -crowd which pulled promiscuously and with varying force at the rope. -The other end of the rope was attached to the neck of the monarch, -and as he was raised he dangled in the centre of the archway, much -more like a felon undergoing the extreme penalty of the law, than a -canonized saint. In the meanwhile, two vociferous men in blue blouses -and trowsers, half way up two ladders, were supposed to steady the -king, but on account of the jerky manner in which the crowd hauled at -the rope, they were unable to achieve their object, and they vented -their displeasure in oaths. All at once there was a crash. The head -had separated from the body--the statue was in plaster; and first -down fell the trunk and then the crowned head. The catastrophe caused -a sudden silence to fall on the multitude, but it was soon broken by -execrations and invocations of ‘mille diables.’ Then a general rush -was made to inspect the remains of the decapitated king. - -‘There was absolutely no piece of wood or wire to keep head and trunk -together!’ exclaimed one of the workmen, elevating the fragment of -head. ‘Of course it broke off. Who ever heard of a plaster cast -without a nucleus of solid wood or iron in the middle!’ - -‘Out of the way! make room,’ shouted a coachman, cracking his whip; -and the crowd started aside to allow a handsome lumbering coach to -roll by, and pass under the triumphal arch. Two heads were protruded -from the windows, to see what caused the commotion and throng; and -Lindet, happening to look in that direction, saw the faces of Foulon -and Berthier. - -‘Why are all these preparations being made?’ asked Lindet of a -shopman near him. - -‘Ah!’ exclaimed the man; ‘don’t you know that Monsieur the Prince is -coming?’ - -Lindet pushed up the street, passed the Palais de Justice, a -handsome, massive Italian building, and walked straight to the -bishop’s palace. Having reached Évreux, he would do his business and -leave it. - -The gate to the palace was decorated with evergreens and banners, the -arms above the archway had been re-gilt and re-coloured; S. Sebastian -was very pink, exuded very red blood from his wounds, and the lion of -monseigneur ramped in a refulgent new coat of gold leaf. - -The wooden doors were wide open, displaying the interior of the -quadrangle; a long strip of crimson carpet conducted from the gate -over the pavement to the principal entrance to the house; footmen in -episcopal purple liveries, their hair powdered, skipped hither and -thither. - -Lindet walked straight into the court, and asked to see the bishop. - -‘You must wait in the office, yonder,’ said the servant he addressed, -with impatience. - -‘Please to tell the bishop that I desire to see him.’ - -‘You’re mighty imperious. Perhaps he may not want to see you.’ - -‘Never mind. Tell him that Thomas Lindet, curé of Bernay, has walked -to Évreux on purpose to see him, and see him he must.’ - -‘Well, well, sit down in the office.’ - -Lindet entered the little room, and waited. He waited an hour, and no -bishop came; he rang a bell, but it was not answered; then he stepped -out into the court, and catching a servant by the arm, insisted on -his message being conveyed to monseigneur. - -‘This is a mighty inconvenient time,’ said the man; ‘don’t you know -that the Prince is expected?’ - -‘But not here.’ - -‘Yes, here; he stays at the palace.’ - -Lindet stepped back in astonishment. - -‘What does the priest want?’ asked the butler, who was passing at -that moment. - -‘I have come here desiring to speak with monseigneur. I have come -from Bernay on purpose.’ - -‘Get along with you,’ said the butler; ‘what do you mean by intruding -at this time? Don’t you know that his lordship only sees the parsons -on fixed days and hours? Get out of the court at once, you are in the -way here.’ - -‘I shall not go,’ said the curé, indignantly; ‘I shall not move from -this spot till my message has been taken to the bishop. He may be -just as indisposed to receive me to-morrow as to-day.’ - -‘Ay! he won’t see any of you fellows till the latter end of next -week. So now be off!’ - -‘What is the matter?’ asked a voice from an upper window. ‘Chopin, -who is that?’ - -The butler and the priest looked up. At an open window stood -Monseigneur de Narbonne-Lara, in a bran-new violet cassock and -tippet, his gold pectoral cross rubbed up, his stock very stiff, and -his dark hair brushed and frizzled. ‘What is all this disturbance -about, Chopin, ay?’ - -‘Monseigneur!’ replied the butler, bowing to the apparition, ‘here is -a curé from Bernay, who persists that he must see your lordship.’ - -‘Tell him, Chopin, that I am engaged, and that this is not the proper -day.’ - -‘Monseigneur,’ began the butler, again bowing; but Lindet interrupted -him with-- - -‘I want to speak for one moment to your lordship.’ - -‘Who are you?’ - -‘I am Thomas Lindet, curé of S. Cross.’ - -‘Oh! indeed. Friday week, at 2 P.M.,’ said the bishop, shutting the -window and turning away. - -Lindet remained looking after him. The bishop stood a moment near the -window, with his back towards the light, meditating; then he turned -again, opened the casement, and called-- - -‘Chopin, you may give him a glass of cider, and then send him off.’ - -‘Yes, monseigneur.’ - -He slammed the window, and walked away. - -Lindet had much trouble in finding an inn which had a spare bed to -let. The Grand Cerf was full and overflowing; the Cheval Blanc, -nearly opposite, seemed to be bursting out at the windows, for they -were full of heads protruded to a perilous distance, gazing up the -Paris road; the Golden Ball at last offered an attic bed, which -Lindet was glad to secure. This little inn stood in the Belfry -Square, a market-place, named after an elegant tower containing -a clock and curfew bell, in the purest Gothic of the fourteenth -century, surmounted by a spire of delicate lead tracing, in the same -style as that on the central tower of the Cathedral, but smaller -considerably. The square was tolerably free from people, as monsieur -was not expected to pass through it, and the comparative quiet was -acceptable to the weary priest. After having taken some refreshment, -and rested himself for an hour on his bed, his restless, excited -spirit drove him forth into the street. - -The bells of the Cathedral and S. Taurin were clanging and jingling, -flags fluttered from every tower and spire, musketry rattled, men -shouted, a band played the Descent of Mars, as Lindet issued from -a narrow street upon the square before the Cathedral and saw that -it was crowded, that a current was flowing in the midst of that -concourse, and that the current bore flags and banners, and followed -the music. The priest, mounting upon a kerbstone, saw that the -civic procession was conducting the Prince to the episcopal palace. -He saw the town gilds pass, then the confraternities or clubs, in -their short loose cassocks, knee-breeches, and caps, with sashes -tied across their breasts, emblazoned with their insignia. Three -principal confraternities appeared--that of Évreux, preceded by a -banner figured with S. Sebastian, that of S. Michael, and that of -S. Louis. A band of Swiss soldiers in red uniform followed, and -in the midst of these guards rolled the gaily-painted carriage of -Louis-Stanislas-Xavier, son of France. Lindet saw a portly young man, -of good-humoured but stolid appearance, bowing acknowledgment of -the acclamations which greeted him. That was the Prince. Lindet saw -nothing of the reception at the gate, presided over by the ramping -lion and the wounded saint; he could hear a pompous voice reading, -and he knew that monseigneur was delivering an address from the -Clergy to the Royal Duke, but what was said, how many titles were -rehearsed, how much flattery was lavished, how many expressions of -devotion and respect were employed--all this was lost in the buzz of -the crowd. - -What was he to do? He could not wait for more than a week, as -required by the bishop. The journey had cost him more than he could -well afford, and the expense of the inn at Évreux would far exceed -what his purse contained, if he deducted the twenty-five livres -due to the bishop. He had determined not to give the money to the -_officiel_, but to the prelate himself, and to explain to him the -reason of his having broken the requirements of the Church. - -Entering the Cathedral, he seated himself in the aisle, where he -could be alone and in quiet, to form a plan for seeing the bishop -and coming to an explanation with him; but he could not hit upon any -to his mind. He walked round the church, admiring its height, and -the splendour of its glass. In the Lady Chapel he stood, and his lip -curled with a smile as he observed, in one of the north windows, a -bishop vested in cope and mitre, holding the pastoral staff in one -hand, whilst with the other he threw open the cope to grasp a sword -girded at his side, and exposed a suit of knightly armour, in which -he was entirely enveloped. - -‘Ah!’ said Lindet to himself, ‘when these panes were pictured it was -as now, the shepherd’s garb invested the wolf. And what marvel! If -the Church may not appoint her own pastors, how can she be properly -shepherded? “Qui præfuturus est omnibus ab omnibus eligatur,” said S. -Leo.’ - -The priest lingered on till late in the church. He was weary, and the -Cathedral was more attractive than the little bedroom at the ‘Golden -Ball.’ He took a chair in the chapel of S. Vincent, and was soon -asleep. - -It was afternoon when the prince arrived, and the afternoon rapidly -waned into evening dusk, and the dusk changed to dark. - -At nine, the Cathedral doors were locked, after a sacristan had made -a hasty perambulation of the church to see that it was empty. Lindet -did not hear his call, as he walked down the aisles crying ‘All out!’ -and the verger did not observe the slumbering priest in the side -chapel. Thus it happened that the curé was locked up in the church. - -It was night when he awoke; slowly his consciousness returned, and -with it the recollection of where he was. He was much refreshed. The -walk of many miles every day in hot sun had worn him out, and this -quiet nap in the cool minster had revived him. - -The moon glittered through the windows, and carpeted the aisle -floors. - -He rose from his chair, and leaving the chapel, bent his knee for a -moment before the High Altar, where the lamp hung as a crimson star, -and tried the north transept door which opened into the square. It -was locked. He then sought the west doors, but found them also fast. -Returning down the south nave aisle, he saw lights from without -reflected through the windows on the groined roof, and strains of -instrumental music were wafted in. - -Near the south transept he found a small door: it was the bishop’s -private entrance. Lindet pushed it, and the door yielded. He found -himself in a small cloister leading to the palace. The lights were -brighter, and the music louder. They issued from the palace garden, -of which the priest obtained a full view. - -The garden occupied the whole south side of the Cathedral, and was -well laid out in swath and flowers. A beautiful avenue of limes -extended the whole length of the garden, above the broad moat which -separated the palace precincts on the south from the city. This moat -has been turned into a kitchen-garden in our own day, but in that of -which we are writing it was full of water. The avenue, therefore, -formed a terrace above a broad belt of water, not stagnant, as in -many moats, but kept fresh by a stream flowing through it. - -The modern traveller visiting Évreux, should on no account fail to -walk on the city side of this old moat, for from it he will obtain -the most striking view of the magnificent Cathedral and the ancient -picturesque palace, rising above the lime-trees. A couple of lines -of young trees have been planted, and the half-street turned into a -boulevard; but in 1788, this side of the moat was bare of trees, and -a row of tall houses faced the water, with only a paved road between, -and a dwarf wall pierced at intervals with openings to steps that -descended to the moat, where all day long women soaped and beat dirty -clothes, with much diligence, and more noise. - -Lindet found the garden brilliantly illuminated. Lamps were affixed -to the old walls of the Cathedral, and traced some of its most -prominent features with lines of coloured fire. The statues which, in -imitation of Versailles, the bishop had set up in his flower-garden, -held lanterns. A pond of gold-fish, in the centre of the sward, -surrounded a vase, in which burned strontian and spirits of wine, -casting a red glare into the water, and producing a wild contrast to -the calm white moonlight that lay in flakes upon the gravelled walks. - -The avenue was, however, the centre of light. In it tables were laid, -brilliant with candelabra supporting wax candles, and with coloured -lanthorns slung between the trees, and lamps attached to every trunk. -At intervals also were suspended brass rings, sustaining twenty -candles. Wreaths of artificial flowers, banners, mirrors, statues -holding lights, transparencies, occupied every conceivable spot and -space, and transformed the quiet old lime avenue into a fairy-land -palace. - -The tables were laden with exquisite viands in silver, and glittered -with metal and glass. - -The higher end of the tables was towards the west, and a daïs, -crimson carpeted, raised a step above the soil, supported the board -at which sat the prince, the bishop, and all the most illustrious of -the guests. - -On the opposite side of the moat, a crowd of hungry women and -children strained their eyes to see the nobles and high clergy eat -and drink, which was only next best to themselves eating. - -‘So we are going to have the States-general, after all,’ said the -Duke de la Rochefoucauld, a noble-looking man, with a frank, open -countenance, full of light and dignity. - -‘Yes,’ answered the prince; ‘His Majesty cannot withdraw his summons.’ - -‘You speak as if he wished to do so,’ said M. de la Rochefoucauld. - -‘I am not privy to his wishes,’ answered Louis Stanislas with a -smile on his heavy face; ‘let us not talk of politics, they are dull -and dispiriting subjects.’ Then, turning to the bishop, he said: -‘Monseigneur, I think you could hardly choose a more delightful -retreat than this of yours. To my taste, it is charming. You are -really well off to have such a capital palace and such delightful -gardens. If I were you, nothing would induce me to change them. -Why, look at the Archbishop of Rouen---- By the way, how is the -archbishop?’ he turned to the duke, whose kinsman the prelate was. ‘I -heard he had been seriously unwell.’ - -The Duke de la Rochefoucauld assured ‘monsieur’ that the cardinal was -much better; in fact, almost well. - -‘That is right,’ said the prince. Then again addressing his host, he -continued: ‘No, I assure you, nothing in the world would induce me, -were I you, my Lord Bishop, to desert this see for another.’ - -‘I am hardly likely to have the chance put in my way,’ said the -bishop. - -‘And then,’ pursued Louis, ‘who, having once built his nest in -charming Normandy, would fly to other climes? You are a brave Norman -by birth, I believe, monseigneur?’ Louis had an unfortunate nack of -getting upon awkward subjects. This arose from no desire of causing -annoyance, but from sheer obtuseness. He resembled his brother the -King in being utterly dull, with neither wit nor vice to relieve the -monotony of a thoroughly prosaic character. - -‘No, your grace,’ answered the bishop, slightly reddening, ‘I belong -to a Navarre family. The family castle of Lara is in Spain. The name -Lara is territorial, and was adopted on the family receiving the -Spanish estates and Castle----’ - -‘Excuse me,’ said the prince, interrupting him; ‘but I think, my dear -Lord, we have a ghost before us.’ - -The bishop looked up from his plate, on which his eyes had rested -whilst narrating the family history, and saw immediately opposite -him, standing below the daïs, in ragged cassock, with the buttons -worn through their cloth covers, with dusty shoes, and with a pale, -eager face quivering with feeling, Thomas Lindet, curé of S. Cross at -Bernay. - -The bishop was too much astonished to speak. He stared at the priest, -as though he would stare him down. The guests looked round almost as -much surprised as the prince or the bishop, so utterly incongruous -was the apparition with the place. The look, full of pain, stern and -passionate, contrasted terribly with the faces of the banqueters, -creased with laughter. The pale complexion, speaking too plainly of -want and hunger--why did that look upon them as they sat at tables -groaning under viands and wines of the most costly description? The -dress, so ragged and dusty, was quite out of place amongst silks and -velvets. The bishop waved his hand with dignity, and his episcopal -ring glittered in the lights as he did so. But Lindet did not move. -Then, addressing his butler over the back of his chair, the prelate -said: ‘Chopin, tell the fellow to go quietly. If he is hungry, take -him into the servants’ hall and give him some supper.’ - -Lindet put his hand into his bosom, and drew forth a little moleskin -purse,--a little rude purse, made by one of the acolytes of Bernay -out of the skins of the small creatures he had snared, and given as -a mark of affection to his priest. He emptied the contents of this -purse into his shaking palm, and with agitated fingers, he counted -twenty-five livres, put the rest--it was very little--back into the -mole-skin bag; and then, holding the money, he mounted the daïs. - -‘Go down, sir, go down!’ said the indignant prelate; and several -footmen rushed to the priest to remove him. - -‘Leave me alone,’ said Lindet, thrusting the servants off; ‘I have -business to transact with my diocesan.’ - -‘What do you want?’ asked the bishop, his red face turning purple -with wrath and insulted pride; ‘get you gone, and see me at proper -times and in proper places!’ - -‘Monseigneur,’ answered Lindet in a clear voice, ‘I have walked -through dust and heat from Bernay to speak to you, and I am told I -cannot see you for a whole week.’ - -‘Go, go!’ said the bishop; ‘I do not wish to have an unpleasant -scene, and to order you to be dragged from my table. Go quietly. I -will see you to-morrow.’ - -‘No,’ Lindet answered; ‘you would not receive me privately this -afternoon, now you shall receive me publicly, whether the time -suits or not. You have fined me, unheard, for not having lit my -sanctuary-lamp. I had neither oil nor money; therefore I must pay -you a heavy fine. There is the money--’ he leaned across the table, -and placed it in the bishop’s plate. ‘Count it,--twenty-five livres; -and next time your lordship gives a feast, spend what you have wrung -from me in buying--’ he ran his eye along the table, and it lit on a -pie,--‘goose-liver pasties for your distinguished guests.’ It was a -random shot, a bow drawn at a venture, but it went in at the joints -of the mail, and smote to the heart. - -Lindet turned from the table and walked away. - -The guests sprang to their feet with a cry of dismay. Monseigneur de -Narbonne-Lara had fallen out of his chair in an apoplectic fit. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - -‘Come here, children--my angels, Gabriel and Gabrielle!’ said Madame -Plomb, standing in the corridor at an open window. ‘Come and see what -is to be seen.’ - -The yellow cat, who had been seated on a little work-table in -the lady’s boudoir, bounded lightly to the floor, and obeyed its -mistress’s call. Reaching her, the cat leaped to her shoulder, that -being the situation in which it would obtain an uninterrupted view of -what it was called to witness. Gabrielle followed, still in white, -for she had no other clothes with her, looking very pale, with dark -rings round her eyes. - -Madame Berthier made no allusion to the occurrences of the night; -they seemed to have faded from her recollection, and her attention -had been concentrated on cat’s cradles, which she was able to execute -with great ease, now that she had Gabrielle’s fingers on which to -elaborate the changes. - -In the courtyard was Berthier’s travelling carriage, with the horses -attached, and the coachman standing beside them. Foulon and his -son-in-law were near the carriage. - -‘Adolphe! my dressing-case,’ said the old man. - -‘Monsieur, you will find it in the well under the seat.’ - -‘Are the pistols in the sword-case?’ asked Berthier. - -‘Monsieur will find them in the sword-case.’ - -‘You have packed up my green velvet coat, and you have provided silk -stockings?’ asked Foulon. - -‘Monsieur will find everything in his trunk.’ - -‘But you have forgotten the canister of snuff.’ - -‘Monsieur, I ask pardon, it is under the seat.’ - -‘Ah!’ said Foulon, pointing up at the window, and nudging Berthier; -‘contrasts,--see!’ - -The Intendant looked up, and caught sight of the three faces looking -down on the preparations,--the yellow-faced cat, the blue-faced wife, -the pale-faced peasant-girl. - -‘You are surely going to salute the cheeks of your lady, before -you start, my friend,’ said Foulon. Then, in a loud voice to his -daughter,--‘Well now, Imogène, how are you this morning? eh! In rude -health and buoyant spirits. Capital! And how is my little darling? -What! pale as the moon. The naughty dogs must have disturbed your -innocent slumbers. Oh, Poulet! oh, Pigeon! you rascals,’ he shook his -forefinger at the dogs,--‘how shall I forgive you for having broken -the rest of my little mignonne! for having robbed her of her roses! -for having filled her maiden breast with fear! Oh, you dogs! oh, oh!’ - -‘Is everything ready?’ asked Berthier of Adolphe. - -‘Everything--everything,’ replied the footman. - -‘See that the dogs be properly fed, Gustave.’ - -‘Certainly, monsieur.’ - -‘What is the matter with my boy’s eye?’ asked Foulon. ‘It has been -lacerated; it is unusually tender; it is bruised.’ Then, elevating -his voice, and addressing those at the window, ‘Ah! who has been -striking and scratching my good Berthier? I know it was that cat. Oh, -puss! you sly puss, how demure you look! but that is all very well by -day. At night, ah! then you show your claws.’ - -The sheriff, finding that everything necessary was in the carriage, -mounted the steps to the house, and making his way to the corridor -presented himself before his wife, Gabrielle, and the cat. He stood -before them with his eyes down, and with a sullen expression of face. -His right eye was discoloured and cut; it both watered and bled, and -he repeatedly wiped it. - -‘Madame,’ said he, with less of his usual insolence Of manner, ‘your -father and I shall be absent for some days.’ - -‘Look me in the face,’ said his wife. He lifted his eyes for an -instant; the wounded organ evidently pained him, for it was glassy, -and the lid closed over it immediately; the other fell before the -glance of the lady. - -‘Madame,’ he continued, ‘we are about to visit Conches on business, -and, after a delay there of a day, we proceed to Évreux to meet the -Count of Provence. He visits the bishop, and we dine with him at the -palace on Thursday evening.’ - -‘What is that to me?’ asked his wife. - -‘I thought you would like to know, madame.’ - -‘Why do you not call me Madame Plomb?’ - -His eyes fluttered up to hers and fell again. - -‘Because you are a coward,’ said the lady. ‘I know you for a bully -and a coward.’ - -‘Madame, I shall retire,’ he said, scowling. ‘I came here in courtesy -to announce to you our departure, and I meet with insult.’ - -‘What is to become of this child?’ asked the lady, touching Gabrielle. - -‘She remains here,’ answered Berthier; ‘I have engaged her to be your -servant. I have hired her of her father.’ A look of triumph shot -across his flabby countenance: ‘he has received six months’ wage in -advance.’ - -Gabrielle uttered a faint cry and covered her face. - -‘I doubt not he has returned the money,’ said Madame Berthier. ‘See! -in this soiled rag is a sum; it was cast in at the window last night. -If I mistake not, this blood which discolours the linen is yours. It -looks like yours, it feels like yours--ugh! it smells like yours.’ - -‘Madame, I know nothing about that money. I know that I have -agreed with the girl’s father, that he has received payment for her -services, and that I keep her here.’ - -‘Whether she remains here or at home,’ said Madame Berthier, ‘she is -safe from you, as long as I am here to protect her.’ - -‘As long as you are here,’ answered Berthier, as he walked towards -the stairs. Then turning to her, with his foot on the steps, he said, -with a coarse laugh: ‘As long as you are here to protect her! Quite -so, Madame Plomb. But how long will you be here?’ He disappeared down -the stairs, and entering the carriage with Foulon, drove through the -gay iron gates, and was gone. - -‘Gabrielle,’ said Madame Berthier; ‘my dear child, we will seek your -father, and ask him whether this is true. I do not believe it, do -you, Gabriel, my angel!’ she turned her lips to the cat’s ear. The -animal rubbed its chin against her mouth and purred. ‘I understand, -my sweet! you wonder how the money came in at the window, do you not? -Well, perhaps the good man was deceived by that beast, and, when he -found out what sort of a man the beast was, he brought the money -back; he could not get into the house at night, so he cast the silver -through the window. Was it so, Gabriel? You are awake at night, you -walk about in the moonlight, you can see in the dark; tell me, my -seraph! was it so?’ Then catching the girl’s arm, she whispered, -‘Wait, I have not shown you the cat’s castle. You have seen his -net and his coffer, his parlour, his pantry, and now you shall see -his castle, in which we shall shut him up when he is naughty. That -is his Bastille. Have you ever seen the Bastille, Gabrielle? No, of -course you have not. Now come with me, and I will build you the cat’s -Bastille.’ - -The unfortunate woman drew the little peasant-girl into her yellow -room, seated herself in her high-backed chair, and in a moment had -her fingers among the strings. - -‘Take it off, Gabrielle,’ she said. ‘Come, Gabriel! sit quiet, and -you shall see the pretty things we shall construct for you.’ - -The cat obediently settled himself into an observant attitude, with -his head resting between his paws; Gabrielle drew her chair opposite -Madame Berthier, and held up her fingers to receive the threads. - -‘So,’ said the lady; ‘that is the net.’ - -She worked nimbly with her fingers. - -‘I have such trouble when I am alone,’ she said; ‘I have to stretch -the threads on this winding machine, or lay them on the table. -Gabriel is so selfish, he will not make an attempt to assist me. But -then all these contrivances are for him, you know, and he would lose -half the pleasure, if he were made to labour at their construction. -See! this, now, is the cat’s cabinet. I should so much like to do -something, that is, to dye your white dress saffron. You do not know -how becoming it would be. I love yellow and black. I wear black, but -Gabriel wears yellow. There! we have the basket. They used to dress -the victims of the Inquisition in yellow and black, and torture and -burn them in these colours. This is the cat’s parlour. And Jews, -as an accursed race, were obliged to wear yellow, so I have heard. -Among the Buddhists, too, the monks wear saffron habits, in token -that they have renounced the world. This, my dear, is the pantry. -And the Chinese wear it as their mourning colour--their very deepest -mourning. But I like it; it suits my complexion, I think. There! Do -you observe this? How your fingers tremble! This is my own invention. -Put up your fingers, so. Up, up! There, now. You have the cat’s -Bastille, a terrible tower for naughty pusses, when we shut them up. -Ah! what have you done with your shaking, quaking fingers? You have -pulled down, you have utterly dissolved my Bastille, and all the -imprisoned cats will get out!’ - -At the same moment, Gabriel bounded from his perch. - -‘Why, how now!’ exclaimed Madame Berthier; ‘you are crying, my poor -girl! Why do you cry? You lack patience. Ah! that is a great and -saintly virtue, very hard to acquire. Indeed, you can only acquire it -by constant prayer and making cat’s cradles. That is my experience. -Yes, it is patience that you want. We poor women have much to bear in -this world from the wicked men. If we had not religion and trifling -to occupy our thoughts and time, we should go mad. I am sure of it. -Sometimes I feel a burning in my head, but first it comes in my -chest, a fire there consuming me; then it flames up from my heart -into my brain, and sets that on fire, and I should go crazy but for -this. I say my rosary and then I make cradles, and then I say my -chaplet again, and then go back to my threads. Why are you crying?’ - -‘Madame!’ entreated Gabrielle; ‘may I go to my father?’ - -‘But, my dear, I think the beast said your father had engaged you to -him as my servant and companion.’ - -‘Oh, dear madame! you are so kind, pray let me see him and speak to -him.’ - -‘You shall,’ answered the lady; ‘I will accompany you. I like to walk -out, but I go veiled. I frighten children sometimes, and even horses -are afraid of me. Yes; we will go together, and I shall see your -papa! Ah! I long to see your papa! You are Gabrielle, and my cat is -Gabriel. Both were quite white, till I dyed my angel yellow, and I -want to dye your white clothes, and then you will be both just alike. -Who knows, when I see your papa, perhaps we may be alike!’ - -The strange woman went into her bedroom to dress for going out; -presently she came from it, bearing some black garments. - -‘You should have waited,’ said she to Gabrielle; ‘after the Bastille -comes the grave. I was going to make the grave for puss, and then you -pulled my tower down.’ - -When ready for the walk, Madame Berthier parted with many expressions -of tenderness from the yellow cat. It was some time before she could -resolve on going, for she stood in the door wafting kisses to her -‘angel Gabriel,’ and apologising to him with profuse expression of -regret for her absence. - -‘But we shall return soon, my Gabriel! do not waste your precious -affections in weeping for my absence. Soon, soon! And now, adieu! -come on, my Gabrielle.’ - -The walk was pleasant, and Madame Berthier enjoyed it. She insisted -on picking yellow and blue flowers as they went along, and showing -them to her companion. - -‘See!’ she would say; ‘the colours harmonise.’ - -The plantation of pines was soon passed, and then their road -traversed beech copse. The leaves were beginning to turn, for the -drought had affected the trees like an early frost. Among the beech -were hazels, laden with nuts, hardly ripe; fern and fox-gloves grew -rank on the road-side. - -The day was warm, the air languid, being charged with moisture -that rose from the heated and wet earth, so that a haze veiled the -landscape. The flies were troublesome, following Madame Berthier -and Gabrielle in swarms. A squirrel darted across the path and -disappeared up one of the trees. - -‘Oh!’ cried Madame Berthier; ‘if Gabriel had only been here. How he -would have run, how he would have pounced upon that red creature! -Gabriel is so nimble.’ - -‘Ah, madame!’ exclaimed the girl, as they came within sight of the -valley and the Island of Swallows, ‘my poor father has lost his corn.’ - -‘What is the matter?’ - -‘See! the water has been out, and it has flooded our field in which -the wheat was standing uncarried.’ - -‘Alas! the pretty yellow corn,’ said Madame Berthier, ‘your father -must buy some more.’ - -‘He has no money.’ - -‘Yes, child, he has; did not the beast give him your wage? Ah! I -forgot, and he returned it.’ - -They crossed the little foot-bridge. Gabrielle stood still, with her -hand on her heart, and looked round. - -‘I do not see him,’ she said, anxiously. - -‘Oh, the papa is indoors, doubtless.’ - -They reached the front of the cottage. - -‘The garden must have been very gay,’ said Madame Berthier; ‘what -roses! but ah! how the rain has battered them, and the flood has -spoiled the beds. Why do you grow so many pink and white roses? I -like this yellow one.’ - -Gabrielle put her hand on the latch and gently opened the door. She -looked in; it was dark, for the little green blind was drawn across -the window. - -‘Go in, my child,’ said the lady; ‘I will look about me, and then I -shall come to you. I want to see the papa, so much.’ - -The girl stepped into the room, and called her father. - -How silent the house seemed to be! the air within was close and hot. - -‘Father, where are you?’ she called again. - -Madame Berthier was picking some roses, when she heard a scream. -She ran to the cottage-door, sprang in, and saw Gabrielle standing -against the wall, her eyes distended with horror, her hands raised, -and the palms open before her, as though to repel some one or -something she saw. - -‘What is the matter?’ asked madame. ‘It is so dark in here.’ She drew -back the window-curtain. - -‘Ah!’ - -There, in a corner, where the ladder conducting to the upper rooms -had stood, hung Matthias André, with his head on one side, his eyes -open and fixed, the hands clenched and the feet contracted. - -‘Mon Dieu! is that the papa?’ exclaimed Madame Berthier. ‘Why, -really, he is not unlike me. See! our faces are much alike. I am -Madame Plomb, and he is Monsieur Plomb.’ - -The girl was falling. The strange woman carried her out into the open -air. - -‘His complexion is darker than mine,’ she said, musingly; ‘but we are -something alike.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - -The shock was too much for Gabrielle’s already excited nerves to -bear, and she remained for several days prostrated with fever. -During this time, Madame Berthier attended her with gentle care and -affection. She administered medicines with her own hand, slept in -the room beside her, or kept watch night and day. The unfortunate -woman having at length found a human being whom she could love, -concentrated upon her the pent-up ardour of her soul. The cat -attracted less attention than heretofore, and for some days his -cradles were neglected. - -If Madame Berthier had been given a companion whom she could love, -in times gone by, and had been less ill-treated by her husband and -neglected by her father, she would never have become deranged; it -is possible that a course of gentle treatment and forbearance from -irritating conduct on the part of M. Berthier might eventually -have restored her already shaken intellect; but such treatment and -forbearance she was not to receive. - -Madame Berthier was walking in the courtyard one day, when Gabrielle -was convalescent. Her husband and father had returned, but she had -seen little of them. The former carefully avoided the wing occupied -by the invalid and his wife, out of apprehension of infection, for he -was peculiarly fearful of sickness; and Foulon did not approach them, -not having occasion. - -As she passed the kennel, she halted to caress the hounds. Poulet -and Pigeon were docile under her hand, and never attempted to fly -at and bite her. She and her father were the only persons in the -château who had the brutes under perfect control; they feared Foulon, -but they loved Madame Plomb. Animals are said to know instinctively -those persons who like them. The poor woman exhibited a remarkable -sympathy with animals, which they reciprocated. The dogs would -never suffer Berthier to approach them without barking and showing -their fangs, because he amused himself in teasing and ill-treating -them; they slunk into their kennels before Foulon’s cold grey eye, -Madame Berthier they saluted with gambols. She patted the dogs, and -addressed them by name. - -‘Well, Pigeon! well, Poulet! how are you to-day? Are you more -reconciled to Gabriel? Ah! when will you learn to love that angel? -He fears you; he sets up his back, and his tail becomes terrible -to contemplate; and you--you growl at him, and you leap towards -him, and I know if you were loose you would devour him. Alas! -be reconciled, and love as brethren.’ Turning to Adolphe, who -approached, she asked, ‘Have they been good boys lately?’ - -‘Madame, their conduct has been superb.’ - -‘That is nice, my brave dogs; I am pleased to hear a good account of -you.’ - -‘Madame, I must except Poulet for one hour. For one hour he -misconducted himself; but what is an hour of evil to an age of good? -it is a drop in an ocean, madame.’ - -‘Did he misconduct himself, Adolphe? How was that?’ - -‘Alas! madame, that I should have to blame him; and yet the blame -does hardly attach to him,--it rests rather on the staple,--the -staple of his chain. It gave way that day that the curé came.’ - -‘What curé?’ - -‘Ah! madame does not know? Monsieur the Curé of Bernay arrived at the -gate, and the brave dog rushed towards him, and would have devoured -him, doubtless, but for the rails. The staple, madame, was out; but -Gustave and I, assisted by your honoured father, secured the dog once -more, and no blood was shed.’ - -‘What brought the curé here?’ - -Adolphe fidgeted his feet, and platted his fingers. - -‘Tell me, Adolphe,’ persisted madame, ‘tell me why M. Lindet came to -this house. These gates are not usually visited by Religion.’ - -‘Madame,’ answered the servant in a low voice, and with hesitation, -‘I think he came here to enquire after the young girl----’ - -‘I understand,’ said the lady. ‘Who spoke to him?’ - -‘It was M. Foulon, your honoured father, who dismissed him.’ - -‘Did the priest seem anxious to obtain information?’ - -‘Madame, I believe so; he seemed most anxious.’ - -‘Thank you, Adolphe. Open the gate for me; I am going to Bernay.’ - -‘Madame will, I am sure, not mention what I have said,’ the man -began, nervously. - -‘Be satisfied; neither M. Berthier nor M. Foulon shall know that you -have mentioned this to me.’ - -‘Madame is so good!’ exclaimed the man, throwing open the gate. - -The unfortunate lady, having gathered her veil closely over her -face, so as completely to conceal it, took the road to Bernay, and, -entering the town by the Rue des Jardins, crossed the square in front -of the Abbey, and speedily made her way to the Place S. Croix, where -dwelt the priest. - -The day being somewhat chilly, Thomas Lindet was seated before the -fire in the kitchen; his brothers, Robert and Peter, were with him. -Robert was an attorney in practice at Bernay, Peter was supposed -to help him in the office, but as the practice was small, and -Peter was constitutionally incapable of attending to business, or -of doing anything systematically, his value was nil. The brothers -were remarkable contrasts. Some years later, when the events of the -Revolution had developed their characters, they were nicknamed Robert -le Diable, Thomas l’Incredule, and Pierre le Fou. It is needless -to say that these names were given them by their enemies. Only in -the first dawn of Christianity do we find a nickname given in a -spirit of charity--Barnabas, the Son of Consolation. These names -were partly just and partly unjust. Robert was never a devil; Thomas -was, perhaps, a doubter; Peter was certainly a fool. Robert had an -intelligent face, much like that of his brother the curé; his lips -were habitually arched with a smile; it was difficult to decide -whether the smile was one of benevolence or of sarcasm. An ironical -twinkle in his eye led most who had dealings with him to suspect that -he was internally jesting at them, when they received from him some -mark of courtesy or esteem. A thorough professional acquaintance with -the injustice of the _ancien régime_, had made him as desirous of -a change as his brother Thomas. He had the same passionate love of -right and liberty, the same vehemence, but his strong clear judgment -completely governed and modulated his impulses. He was scrupulously -honest and truthful. The Revolution rolled its course around him, -and he became one of its most important functionaries, without -compromising his character, without losing his integrity; under every -form of government he served, being found an invaluable servant in -the interest of his country, true to France and to his conscience. -He had no love for power; he dreaded its splendour: he loved only to -have work and responsibility. He was less a man of politics than of -administration. His extreme caution was a subject of reproach, but it -saved his neck from the guillotine in the Reign of Terror, and his -probity, which left him unenriched by the public moneys which had -passed through his hands, preserved him from exile in 1816. Of him -the great Napoleon said: ‘I know no man more able, and no minister -more honest.’ The innumerable difficulties with which he had to deal -in administrative and financial practice during the Revolution, -occupied his close attention, and he shunned public discussion, in -which he knew he should not shine, that he might be the soul of -committees. The Girondins, mistrusting him, thrust him into the arms -of Robespierre, who received him, saying, ‘We shall found Salente, -and you shall be the Fénélon of the Revolution.’ - -Jean Baptiste Robert, to give him his name in full, was little -conscious of the part it was his destiny to play, at the time our -story opens. He and Peter were smoking. - -‘Well, Thomas! what have you gained by this move?’ asked Robert, -alluding to his brother’s expedition to Évreux. - -‘To my mind,’ put in Peter, ‘you have acted very wrongly, and have -not exhibited that respect to constituted authority which the -catechism enjoins.’ - -Thomas had his own misgivings, so he did not answer. - -‘You should have waited,’ said Robert. - -‘That is your invariable advice,’ said Thomas, impatiently; ‘always -wait, wait, wait--till doomsday, I suppose.’ - -‘Till the election of deputies,’ said Robert, between his whiffs; ‘it -is the same.’ - -‘You will be inhibited, brother Thomas,’ Peter observed, as he shook -some of the ashes from his pipe on to the floor; ‘as sure as eggs are -eggs, Monseigneur the Bishop will withdraw your licence, and inhibit -you from preaching and ministering the sacraments. And quite right -too.’ - -‘Why right, Peter?’ asked Thomas. - -‘Because you have gone against constituted authority. I say, -reverence constituted authority; never thwart it. Constituted -authority, in my eyes----’ - -‘Is constituted despotism,’ said Thomas. - -‘No; it is right. Obedience is a Christian virtue; obedience is due -to all who are set over us in Church and State. You have revolted -against constituted authority, brother, and constituted authority -will be down on you. You will be inhibited. Mark my words, you will.’ - -‘No, not yet,’ said Robert. ‘To inhibit you would be to wing the -story, and send it flying through the province. But be cautious for -the future; the least trip will cause your fall.’ - -Madame Berthier tapped at the door, and the priest answered it. - -‘I want to speak with you,’ she said, ‘for one minute.’ - -‘Privately?’ - -‘Yes.’ - -‘Then walk this way.’ - -He conducted her to his sitting-room, and requested her to be seated. -She did not remove her veil, but told him her name. - -‘You came to Château Malouve in search of Gabrielle André,’ she said. -‘Did they tell you she was there?’ - -‘Madame, I did go in quest of her. Pardon me for speaking plainly, -but I knew she would be in great peril if she were there.’ - -‘You were right, she would have been in great peril; I have protected -her, however.’ - -‘She is with you, then, madame?’ - -‘She is with me at present: she has been very ill. The shock of her -father’s death has been too great for her. She is recovering now.’ - -‘Does the poor child remain with you?’ asked the priest. - -‘At present; but I cannot say for how long. M. Berthier may be -removing to Paris shortly, our time for returning to the capital -approaches, and, if we go there--we--that is Gabriel, Gabrielle and -I.’ - -‘Who is Gabriel, madame?’ - -‘An angel.’ - -‘Pardon me, I do not understand.’ - -‘He is my solace, my joy.’ - -‘Madame!’ - -‘He is my cat.’ - -‘Proceed, I pray.’ - -‘If we, that is, Gabriel, Gabrielle and I go to Paris, I cannot be -sure that I shall be able to protect the girl. Here, in the country, -servants are not what they are in Paris. There they are creatures of -the beast!’ - -‘Of whom, madame?’ - -‘Of the beast--of my husband. What am I to do then? They will do what -Berthier orders them; they will separate her from me; they will lock -me up. They have done so before; they will even tear my angel from my -shoulder.’ - -‘Your angel, madame?’ - -‘My Gabriel, my cat. I have great battles to keep him near me, how -can I assure myself of being able to retain her?’ - -‘What is to be done, then?’ - -‘She cannot go home to her blue father; she cannot stay with yellow -Gabriel. I ask you what is to be done.’ - -Lindet paused before he replied. The lady puzzled him, her way of -speaking was so strange. He looked intently at her veil, as though -he desired to penetrate it with his eyes. Madame Berthier saw the -direction of his eyes, and drew the veil closer. - -‘Why do you stare?’ she asked; ‘my face is not beautiful: it is -terrible. The beast calls me Madame Plomb, and I hate him for it; -but,’ she drew close to the priest and whispered into his ear, ‘I -know now how to make him blue, like me,--how to turn M. Berthier into -M. Plomb. We shall see, we shall see one of these days!’ - -‘Madame, what is your meaning?’ - -‘Ah, ha! I tell no one that secret, but you shall discover my meaning -some day. Now, go back to what we were saying about Gabrielle. What -is to be done with her?’ - -‘When you go to Paris?’ - -‘Yes, I cannot protect her there. I am not safe there myself. Here I -can do what I like, but not there.’ - -‘I cannot tell you, madame, but I will make enquiries, and find out -where she may be taken in and screened against pursuit.’ - -‘You promise me that,’ she said. - -‘Yes, madame, I will do my best. If you will communicate with me -again in a day or two, I shall be more in a position to satisfy you.’ - -‘Then I may trust in you as Gabrielle’s protector when I am unable -myself to execute that office?’ - -‘Certainly. I will be her protector.’ - -Madame Plomb rose from her seat, and departed. - -As she approached the château, she heard the furious barking of the -two dogs, and on entering the gates she saw the cause. M. Berthier -had wheeled an easy chair into the yard, and was seated in it at a -safe distance from the hounds, armed with a long-lashed carriage -whip, which he whirled above his head, and brought down now on Poulet -and then on Pigeon, driving the beasts frantic with pain and rage. -He had thrown a large piece of raw meat just within their reach, and -he kept them from it by skilful strokes across the nose and paws. -The dogs were ravenous, and they flew upon the piece of flesh, only -to recoil with howls of pain. Pigeon had bounded to the top of his -kennel, and was dancing with torture, having received a cutting -stroke across his fore paws; then, seeing Poulet making towards the -meat, and fearful lest he should be robbed of his share, he leaped -down from his perch and flew after his brother, only to be nearly -overthrown by Poulet, as he started back before a sweep of the lash. - -Madame Berthier looked scornfully towards her husband. - -‘Ah, ha! my leaden lady!’ cried he, as she drew near; ‘you have been -taking a walk; there is nothing to be compared with fresh air and -exercise for heightening and refining the complexion. You are right, -madame, to wear a veil; the sun freckles.’ - -He had recovered all that insolence which seemed to have left him on -the day following her repulse of him. - -‘Sacré! you rascal! will you touch the meat? No, not yet,’ and the -whip caught Poulet across the face. - -The blow was answered with a furious howl. - -‘Are you going, Madame Plomb? No, stand here and watch my sport. I do -not like to have my sport interfered with, mind that. What I like to -do, that I will do. Sacré! who will dare to stand between me and my -game?’ - -‘I will,’ said his wife, walking towards the dogs. - -‘No, you shall not; you shall leave that meat alone.’ - -She stooped, picked up the piece of raw flesh, and threw it towards -the dogs. - -‘You are a bold woman to go so near the infuriated hounds,’ said -Berthier, cracking his whip in the air; ‘I daren’t do it.’ - -‘No, you are a bully; and bullies are always cowards.’ - -‘Madame! you are uncivil. You bark like Pigeon and Poulet.’ - -‘I shall bite, too.’ - -‘Do you know what we do with barking, biting, snarling, angry, -ungovernable beasts, eh? with those who show their teeth to their -masters, who unsheath their claws to their lords? Do you know what we -do with them, eh?’ - -He wiped his red eyes with the corner of his handkerchief, leaned -back in his chair, and laughed. ‘Shall I tell you what we do with -dangerous animals, or with those who stand between us and our object? -We chain them up.’ He laughed again. - -Madame gazed contemptuously at his fat quivering cheeks. - -‘We lock them up, we chain them up,’ continued he; ‘we make them so -fast that they may bark as much as they like, but bite they cannot, -for those whom they would bite keep out of their reach.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - -Madame Berthier had left Gabrielle in her yellow room, with strict -directions to attend to the cat, and to take him a little stroll -in the garden. The lady had descended to the courtyard with full -intentions of visiting the church of Nôtre Dame, but the information -given her by Adolphe had altered her intention. The walk to Bernay -and back took longer than she had intended. - -Shortly after madame had left the house, Gabrielle, carrying the dyed -cat in her arms, descended the stairs and entered the garden. Her -confinement to the house had removed the dark stain of the sun from -her skin, which was now of a wheaten hue, delicate, and lighting up -with every emotion that sent a flush to her cheek. The anxiety and -terror which had overcome her, had left their traces on her face; the -old child-like simplicity and joyousness were gone, and their place -was occupied by an expression of timidity scarcely less engaging. She -wore one of her own peasant dresses, so becoming to a peasant girl, -and a pure white Normandy cap. - -‘Poor puss!’ she said, caressing the yellow cat as she entered the -garden; ‘do you love your mistress? I am sure you do, for already I -love her, though I have not known her half so long as you have. How -can that dreadful man treat her with so much cruelty? If he only knew -how good she was----’ - -‘You surely do not allude to me when you use the expression “dreadful -man.” No, I am convinced you could not have so named one who lives -only to devote himself to you, and gratify your every whim.’ - -Berthier stood before her, having stepped from an arbour that had -concealed him. - -Gabrielle recoiled in speechless terror. - -‘Did I hear you say that you loved Madame Plomb?’ he asked, advancing -towards her. She shrank away. - -‘Did I hear you express affection for that leaden woman, with her -blue complexion, her bird-like profile, her fierce black eyes, and -her mad fancies?’ - -‘Monsieur,’ answered the girl, trembling violently, ‘I do love her; -she has been kind to me.’ - -‘Then,’ said the fat man, throwing up one hand and laying the other -on his breast, ‘I love her too.’ - -He looked at her from head to foot, feasting his eyes on her beauty -and innocence. She attempted to look up, but before that bold glance -her eyes fluttered to one side and then the other. - -‘Do not run away, I will not touch you,’ he said, as she made a -movement to escape; ‘I want merely to have a word with you in -confidence. If you will not listen to me here, I will speak to you -in the house. Whither can you go to escape me? The house is mine. No -door is locked or bolted which I cannot open.’ - -‘Monsieur, pray do not speak to me!’ exclaimed Gabrielle, joining her -trembling hands as in prayer. - -‘I must speak to you, little woman,’ said Berthier, ‘for I have got a -charming suggestion, strictly correct, you may be sure, which I want -to make to you.’ - -‘Let me go home!’ she cried, covering her face with her hands. - -‘Home!’ echoed Berthier. ‘Where is your home? Not the Isle of -Swallows. Your father is dead, you know that; and another farmer has -taken the house. How stupid of the père André to put himself out of -the world just when his daughter wanted a home!’ - -This brutal remark caused the girl’s tears to burst forth. - -‘Home!’ continued the Intendant, approaching her; ‘this is henceforth -your home. I offer you my wealth, my mansions, my servants, myself.’ -He put his hand on her shoulder. - -She sprang from the touch, as though it had stung her. - -‘Foolish maiden, not to accept such offers at once. You are in my -power; you have nowhere to flee to; you have no relations to take -your part against me. If I turn you out of my doors, do you know -whither to go? No; you have no place to go to.’ - -‘I have friends,’ she sobbed. - -‘Name them.’ - -‘I am sure Pauline Lebertre would give me shelter.’ - -‘Who is Pauline Lebertre, may I ask?’ - -‘The curé’s sister.’ - -‘At La Couture?’ - -‘Yes.’ - -M. Berthier clapped his fleshy hands together and laughed. - -‘You are vastly mistaken,’ he said, ‘if you think that every house -is open to you now. I lament to say it, but your presence in this -château is likely somewhat to affect your credit with some good -people. It is with unfeigned regret that I assure you that this -charming mansion of mine is regarded with suspicion. It is even -asserted that you left your father and home for the purpose of making -your fortune here; that the idea so weighed on the good Matthias, -that he committed suicide, and that therefore you are his murderer.’ - -Gabrielle leaned against a tree, with her face in her hands; she -could not speak; shame, anguish, and disgust overwhelmed her. - -‘Do you think that the sister of a curé would invite you to her -house?’ - -‘Monsieur, monsieur!’ she cried; ‘leave me, I pray.’ - -‘Certainly, I will leave you to digest what I have told you,’ he -said, with great composure; ‘but not just yet; I must place certain -alternatives before you, and, if you are a discreet girl, you will -make the choice I desire. If you leave my hospitable roof, you go -forth branded as your father’s murderer, with an ugly name that will -ever cling to you. You will go forth to be pointed at and scorned, -and to be shut out of the society of your friends. On the other hand, -if you remain here, you may remain on honourable terms. There is a -place, not the grave, which swallows up wives; and the husband is -left not only to all intents and purposes a widower, but in the eye -of the law wifeless, so that he may marry again. I am sorry to say -it, but that place is about to swallow up Madame Plomb. I offer you -her place. She will be dead,--dead to all the world, and dead by law. -You may occupy the place of honour at my table, sit beside me in my -carriage, dress as suits your taste, lavish money as you list. You -shall be my second wife, and the curé’s daughter will come bowing -down to you and asking for subscriptions for the church and the poor, -and you can give more than all the rest of the people in the village, -and you can set up a magnificent tomb to your father, and have a -thousand masses said for his soul.’ - -‘Madame!’ cried the girl, ‘oh, dear madame, come to my rescue!’ - -‘You trust to the leaden wife to protect you, do you?’ asked -Berthier, laughing. ‘The leaden woman shall not be at hand to stand -between us much longer. I have managed that she shall disappear.’ - -Gabrielle looked fixedly at him, and her heart stood still. - -‘Yes, I promise you that,’ said Berthier; ‘I will have no more knives -drawn upon me, and presented at my throat. I have taken precautions -against a recurrence of such a proceeding. Let me tell you, dearest, -that she shall not be much longer in this house. In a very few hours -I hope to see her removed to a place of security. Should you like to -know whither?‘--he sidled up to her, put his lips to her ear, and -whispered a name. ‘Now I leave you,’ he said, drawing back; ‘I leave -you to make your choice. Think what it would be to be called Madame -Berthier de Sauvigny, and to reign over the peasants of Malouve!’ - -With a snap of his fingers he withdrew. It was some time before -Gabrielle had sufficiently recovered to escape into the house. She -fled to Madame Berthier’s room and threw herself into a chair; then, -fearing lest her pursuer should intrude himself upon her again, she -went to the door to lock or bolt it, but found that the bolt had been -removed, and there was no key in the lock. Berthier had spoken the -truth when he said that no place in the house was secure from his -entrance. She reseated herself, and awaited Madame Berthier’s return. - -That lady arrived in good spirits. She had secured a protector for -Gabrielle, and she had spoiled her husband’s sport with the dogs. - -‘Well, my precious ones!’ exclaimed she, as she entered. ‘Gabriel! -come to my shoulder. Where is my angel? I do not see him. Gabrielle, -tell me where is the cat, or I perish.’ - -‘Madame,’ answered the girl, who had started to her feet on the -entrance of the lady, ‘I do not know; I left him in the garden.’ - -‘Have you cherished him, and consoled him for my absence?’ - -‘Madame, I have done what I could.’ - -‘That is right. Oh! it is delightful, now I can leave the house -without anxiety. Hitherto I have been torn with fears lest some -mischief should befall my angel, whenever I have been absent from -home; but now I leave him to you in all confidence. But--what is the -matter with you? you have been crying.’ - -‘Madame! you have been so good to me, but I cannot remain in this -house. I cannot, indeed.’ - -‘My dear child, I know that you cannot, and I have this afternoon -been to find you a protector, and I have secured you one.’ - -‘Who, madame?’ - -‘The curé of Bernay.’ - -‘Madame,’ faltered the girl, ‘does he know that I am here?’ - -‘Yes, child.’ - -‘And he will yet receive me?’ - -‘I do not know that he will himself receive you, but he has promised -to find you a refuge.’ - -‘Madame, tell me, does he think evil of me?’ - -‘Of you? No; why should he?’ - -‘Because, madame, I am in this house.’ - -‘Ah, to be sure; that is not to the credit of any young woman; but I -have assured him that I stood between you and harm.’ - -Gabrielle flung herself before Madame Berthier, to clasp her feet; -the lady caught her and held her to her heart. - -‘You are too good to me,’ the girl sobbed. ‘Oh, madame, how can I -ever repay you?’ - -‘You will pray for me.’ - -‘Ever, ever!’ fervently ejaculated Gabrielle. - -‘And for Gabriel, my cat.’ - -‘Madame,’ said the girl, clinging to the unfortunate lady, ‘madame, -how shall I say it?--but you are yourself in danger.’ - -‘I am always in danger,’ said the poor woman. ‘Am not I married to -a beast? But tell me, now, what has made you cry whilst I have been -out? The beast has not been near you to insult you. If he has,’--she -gnashed her teeth; all the softness which had stolen over her strange -countenance altering suddenly to an expression of hardness,--‘if -he has, I shall draw my knife upon him again. And I should be sorry -to do that, because I do not want to make him bleed; I have other -designs in my head. Ah! they are secrets: we shall see! perhaps -some day we shall be more alike than we are now. Well--’ she seated -herself and removed her bonnet and veil--‘well, and how came you to -part company with the yellow cat?’ - -‘Madame! you are in danger.’ - -‘I have told you that I am in danger every day. In danger of what? -Of being grossly insulted; of being called Madame Plomb; of having -my liberty taken from me. I have been locked up in my chamber before -now, and the beast threatened me with something of the kind just now, -as I passed him in the yard, teasing the dogs. That man is hated by -all. The people of Paris hate him; his servants hate him; his dogs -hate him; you hate him; and so do I,--I hate him. I am all hate.’ - -‘Madame, let me tell you what he said to me.’ - -‘I do not care to hear,--I can guess; he spoke of me and called me -Madame Plomb,’ she stamped, as she mentioned the name. ‘He made his -jokes about me. He always makes his jokes about me to the servants, -to his guests, to any one--and, if I am listening and looking on, all -the better.’ - -‘Dear, dear madame, let me speak.’ - -‘You do not know, however, how my father treats me. That is worst of -all. But where is Gabriel? Where is the yellow angel? Come, we will -make his cradle.’ - -In a moment she had the threads about her fingers. - -The girl saw that her only chance of being attended to was to wait -her opportunity. - -‘This is the cat’s net,’ said Madame Berthier. ‘This is his basket.’ -She pursued the changes with her usual interest, till it came to -that of her own invention. As Gabrielle put up her fingers for the -construction of the castle, she said, nervously: - -‘Madame, what do you call this tower or prison?’ - -‘I call it the cat’s castle.’ - -‘But you have another name for it. You told me about a dreadful -prison in Paris----’ - -‘Ah! the Bastille.’ - -‘Yes, madame. Who are shut up in that place?’ - -‘Political offenders, and mad people, and, indeed, all sorts of folk.’ - -‘How are they put in there?’ - -‘Why, those who have committed political offences----’ - -‘No, dearest madame, the others.’ - -‘What! the mad people?’ - -‘Yes.’ - -‘Their friends get an order from the king, and then they are -incarcerated.’ - -‘Are all mad people in Paris put there?’ - -‘Oh dear no! they are sent to Bicêtre. But only those of very great -families, or those whom it is not wise or prudent for their relatives -to have sent to the general asylum, are imprisoned there.’ - -‘Madame, have you ever feared?’ - -‘Feared what, Gabrielle?’ - -‘Feared lest----’ the girl hesitated and shook like an aspen. - -‘I have often been much afraid of an accident befalling my darling -Gabriel. Oh! child, the anguish and terror of one night when the dear -cat was absent. He had not been in all day, and night drew on and no -Gabriel came, so I sat up at the window and watched, and I cried ever -and anon, but he did not answer.’ - -‘Madame,’ interrupted the girl, clasping the poor lady’s hands, and -utterly ruining the tower of threads; ‘dear, dear Madame Berthier, -have you never feared the Bastille for yourself?’ - -Those words struck the lady as though with an electric shock. She -started back and gazed with distended horror-lighted eyes and rigid -countenance at Gabrielle; her hands fell paralysed at her side; her -mouth moved as though she would speak, but not a word escaped her -lips. - -At that moment the dogs began to bark furiously in the yard, and -continued for some minutes. - -Madame Berthier slowly recovered such self-possession as she ever had. - -‘Did he mean that?’ she asked; ‘he said that those who were dangerous -were chained up. Gabrielle, tell me, did he threaten _that_ to me?’ - -‘Madame, he said as much.’ - -The unhappy woman was silent again. She seemed cowed at the very -idea, her feet worked nervously on the floor, and her fingers -twitched; every line of her face bore the impress of abject fear. - -‘Oh, Gabrielle! do not desert me!’ she entreated piteously. ‘I have -no friends. My husband is against me, my father is indifferent. I -fling myself on you. Do not desert me--Gabrielle, Gabrielle!’ the cry -of pain pierced the girl to the heart. - -‘My dearest madame,’ said she; ‘I will follow you.’ - -‘Gabrielle, did you hear aright? Was it not the cat they were going -to take to his castle? Hark!’ - -There was a sound, a tramp of feet in the corridor. - -‘Who are these, who are coming?’ shrieked the poor woman. - -The girl was too frightened to move from her place. She stood -trembling, and the tread drew nearer. - -‘Fly to the door, shut it, lock it!’ cried Madame Berthier, throwing -herself from her chair on the ground and tearing her grey hair with -her discoloured hands. - -Gabrielle stood irresolute but one moment, then she fell on her knees -beside her mistress, and raised her head and kissed her, as the tears -flowed from her eyes over the frightened deathly countenance of the -unfortunate woman, whose trembling was so violent and convulsive that -the floor vibrated under her. - -‘Gabrielle!’ gasped the poor lady, suddenly becoming calmer; ‘if I -be taken, remember M. Lindet is your protector. Do not remain here.’ -Then her mind rambled off to the horror which oppressed her. - -The door was thrown open, and Berthier entered with his eyes -twinkling, and his cheeks wagging with laughter. Behind him were some -soldiers. - -‘In the king’s name!’ he exclaimed. ‘Ha! get up!’ He stood instantly -before his wife, rubbing his hands. His eye lighted on Gabrielle, and -he saluted her with a nod and leer. ‘Now, dear! what did I say?’ - -Madame Berthier hid her face in the girl’s bosom. All fierceness, all -her courage, every atom of power seemed to have disappeared before -the awful fear. - -‘I will raise her,’ said Berthier. - -‘No,’ exclaimed Gabrielle; ‘she is in my care.’ - -‘In your care!’ laughed Berthier; ‘much good your care will do her.’ - -The girl gently lifted the frightened woman to her feet, but she -could not stand without support. - -‘She is dangerous,’ said Berthier to the officers. ‘Secure her. She -attempted my life with a dagger. Take care, she may stab one of you.’ - -There seemed little danger of this from the quaking being before -them, nevertheless they secured her with manacles. - -Gabrielle clung to her. The soldiers thrust her aside. - -‘Let me accompany her! Oh, let me go with her!’ she pleaded; ‘I have -no home but with her!’ - -‘What!’ exclaimed Berthier, ‘no home! Why, this house is your home. -You have none other.’ - -Gabrielle was separated from madame. - -‘Where are you going to take me?’ asked the poor woman, faintly. - -‘To the Bastille,’ answered her husband promptly, stepping in front -of her and staring into her eyes dim with fear, ‘where you will be -secure, and knowing you to be there, I shall be safe.’ - -‘Let her come with me,’ she besought, turning her face towards -Gabrielle. - -‘By no manner of means,’ answered Berthier with a laugh; ‘I intend -to make her very comfortable here. Whilst you enjoy your cell, she -shall have your room.’ - -‘My cat!’ gasped the wretched wife. - -‘Would you have me catch it for you?’ he asked. ‘No. You must go -without. Soldiers! remove her.’ - -They obeyed. She offered no resistance. A carriage was in the yard, -ready to receive her. As the men drew her along the corridor and down -the stairs, her limbs refusing to support her, her eyes turned from -side to side in a strained, uneasy manner, and moans escaped her lips. - -Gabrielle, almost too stunned to think, stood and gazed after her, -but when she saw that the soldiers were about to thrust her into the -carriage, with her grey hair hanging loosely about her shoulders, -and with no cover for her face, she rallied, and flying back to the -room she had left, caught up the bonnet and veil Madame Berthier had -so lately taken off, and hastened after her to the court. She sprang -upon the step of the carriage, and with her own hands adjusted the -straggling hair, put on the bonnet, and drew the veil over the face -of her mistress. - -‘Gabrielle!’ murmured the poor woman, and the girl flung herself into -her arms. - -‘Come!’ said Berthier; ‘enough of this. Coachman, drive on.’ - -Reluctantly the mistress and the maiden parted. Gabrielle stood -looking after the carriage, as it rolled towards the gates amidst the -furious barking of the hounds. - -Just as it passed through the entrance and turned into the road, the -head and arms of Madame Berthier appeared at the coach window, the -latter extended, and her cry, shrill and full of agony, was echoed -back from the front of the chateau: - -‘Gabrielle! save me, save me!’ - -‘That,’ said Berthier, rubbing his eyes, ‘that is more than Gabrielle -or any one else can do, excepting myself or the king.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - -Thomas Lindet stood at his window thinking. One by one the lights -died out in the town. A candle had been shining through the -curtain in Madame Leroux’s bedroom for an hour, and now that was -extinguished. The red glow of the forge at the corner had become -fainter. For long it had shot a scarlet glare over the pavement, and -had roared before the bellows. The clink on the anvil was hushed, the -shutters were closed, and only a feeble glimmer shone through their -chinks, and under the door. The watch had closed the tavern of the -‘Golden Cross.’ None traversed the square. Lindet saw a light still -in Madame Aubin’s windows. She had a child ill, and was sitting up -with it. There was a glimmer also from the window of M. François -Corbelin, and the strains of a violin issued from his room. There was -no moon now. The stars shone in the black vault above, and the priest -fixed his eyes upon them. - -Save for the violin, all was hushed; the frogs indeed trilled as -usual, but the curé was so accustomed to the sound that he did not -hear them, or rather did not know that his ear received their -clamorous notes. Then suddenly he heard the baying of some hounds, -distant, but approaching. - -A moment after, Lindet saw a figure dart across the market-place, -with extended arms, and rush to his door. Looking fixedly at the -form, he distinguished it to be that of a woman. She struck at his -door, and gasped, ‘Let me in! they are after me.’ - -‘Who are you, and what do you want?’ asked the curé from his window. - -‘Oh! quick, let me in,’ she cried; ‘the dogs! the dogs!’ - -‘Who are you?’ - -‘I am Gabrielle----’ she broke off with a scream, for instantly from -the street, out of which she had started, appeared the bloodhounds, -baying and tracking her. - -‘For God’s sake! or they will tear me!’ she cried. - -Lindet flung himself down the stairs, tore the door open, beat off -the dogs with a staff he snatched up, as the girl sprang in; then -slammed and barred the door upon the brutes. - -‘Have they hurt you?’ - -She could not answer; her breath was nearly gone. - -‘Stay there,’ he said; ‘I will light a candle.’ He groped his way -to the kitchen, felt for the tinder and steel, and struck a light. -Having kindled from it a little lamp, he returned to the girl. She -had sunk upon the ground beside the door, outside of which the -hounds leaped and barked, and at which they attempted to burrow. - -‘How came you here?’ asked the curé. He set down the lamp, and raised -her from the floor in his arms. - -‘I have escaped,’ she gasped. ‘I ran. They are after me.’ - -Voices were now heard without, calling off the dogs. - -‘Bah! she has taken refuge with her dear friend the curé. I thought -as much.’ The voice was that of Foulon. - -‘Sacré!’ exclaimed Berthier; ‘I wish we had discovered her flight a -little earlier. I wish the dogs had brought her down in the forest. -Sacré! I wish----’ - -‘My dear good Berthier,’ said Foulon, ‘what is the use of wishing -things to be otherwise than they are? always accept facts, and make -the most of them. Gustave! take the dogs away. They make a confounded -noise.’ - -‘Remain here,’ said Lindet, in an agitated voice; ‘I will go and -summon Madame Pin, the old woman whose house this is. She is as deaf -as a post.’ - -‘Do not go!’ pleaded Gabrielle, trembling; ‘perhaps they may get in. -Wait, wait, to defend me.’ - -Lindet stood and listened to the voices outside. The dogs were -collared and withdrawn. Foulon tapped at the door. - -‘Do not open,’ entreated Gabrielle. - -‘Well! Monsieur le Curé,’ said the old gentleman through the door; -‘sly priest! so the little rogue is with you? What will the bishop -say? So late at night!’ - -The noise had attracted the musician to his window. The mother of -the sick child had opened her casement, and was looking out. Madame -Leroux started out of the dose into which she had fallen, and -appeared at her garret window. - -‘What is the matter?’ asked the musician. - -‘Ah, M. Corbelin!’ exclaimed Foulon, in a loud voice; ‘what foxes -these curés are! We have just seen one admit a young and pretty -girl to his house. Hark! it is striking midnight. No wonder all the -dogs in the town have been giving them a charivari.’ Then, in a -low tone to Berthier, he said: ‘My good boy! I have served out our -curé now, for having repeated in the pulpit certain observations I -made in private. Those she-dragons yonder’--he pointed up at the -windows--‘will have ruined Thomas Lindet for ever. Come, let us go -home.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - -It was evident that the States-general must be convoked. All attempts -on the part of the Court at evasion provoked so loud and so indignant -a burst of feeling from every quarter of France, that Louis XVI -finally resolved on conquering his repugnance and yielding to popular -pressure. - -When Brienne resigned the ministry, he engaged Louis to summon -Necker, a banker of Geneva. Necker decided the king to convoke -the States-general, and to determine the mode of convocation, the -notables were summoned. Necker was now prime minister of France. He -was adored by the people, who believed him to be liberal-minded and -honest; and on his influence the Court relied to keep in check and -subordination the third estate, and use its weight as a counterpoise -to that of the nobility and clergy, who had acted so decided a -part in resisting the crown in the equal distribution of taxation. -As the object desired by the Court was to make the two privileged -classes bear their share in the burden, and as the States-general -consisted of three houses, of which two were composed of those -enjoying immunities, it was evident that they would unite against -the wishes of the king and Necker, and the Tiers État. To avoid this, -Necker proposed that the number of those representing the third -estate should equal the number of the noble and clerical delegates -conjointly. The assembly of notables, perceiving the design of the -prime minister, rejected the double representation demanded in -favour of the communes, and the Parliament of Paris declared that -the States-general must be composed in the same manner as in 1614, -when they last met. An assembly of peers, held on the 20th November, -expressed the same sentiment, and the notables were dismissed. -The courtiers were so accustomed to consider their will the rule -of government, that the opinion of the notables, the parliament, -and the peers would have prevailed, had not the necessity of -filling the deficit in the finances inclined the ministry towards -the Tiers État. Necker procured a decree of council deciding the -double representation, on the 27th December; as to the question of -deliberations by orders or by the three houses united, that was -remitted to the decision of the States-general, convoked for the end -of April, 1789. - -Although the hopes of the king rested on the third estate, he feared -it. He desired that it should vote taxes; he resolved that it should -do nothing more. Some persons advised him to assemble the States at -Blois, at Orléans, or at Bourges, and to avoid Paris, which would -exert an incalculable influence over the third house. Louis XVI, -however, decided that the assembly should take place at Versailles, -where the splendour of the Court was calculated to overawe the -representatives of the people, and render them complaisant tools of -the royal will. - -When, in the autumn of 1788, it became apparent to the whole of -France that a crisis would arrive in the following spring, and that -there would be a struggle between the privileged and the unprivileged -classes, which would end either in the country asserting its rights -and liberties, or in its further and final subjugation, it became -important to those whose representatives occupied the upper houses, -that they should present a compact front to the common enemy--Justice. - -The nobility were almost unanimous; but it became daily more apparent -that the second privileged class was by no means so. The Church was -divided into two classes, the upper and the lower clergy, and the -scission between them was almost as sharp as that between the noble -and the roturier. The eyes of the Court were turned on the Church, -which held the scales between the parties, anxious to know whether -its bias would be cast on the side of the third, or of the higher -estate. The bishops and high clergy were stirred into activity, and -became political agents; they exerted their influence on all the -clergy within their sway, to promote the election of candidates -favourable to the _ancien régime_. - -The opportunity of acting a part as a political agitator inspired -the Bishop of Évreux, when recovered from his attack of apoplexy, -to make the circuit of his diocese, and by flattery and promises -extended to some, by pressure brought to bear on others, to secure -the election of candidates recommended by himself as partizans of -privilege and abuse. Indeed, his ambition was to be himself elected. -His negotiations had not been as successful as he had anticipated; he -discovered that his clergy were by no means so enthusiastic in their -devotion to the existing state of affairs as were those who largely -profited by them. Some listened to him and respectfully declined to -promise their votes to him or his candidate, others would consider -his lordship’s recommendation, others again would give no answer -one way or another. The bishop was personally unpopular; he had a -domineering manner which offended his clergy, and a tenacity to his -dignity, which rendered him disliked. If a living in his gift were -vacant, he kept it open for six months, and then appointed to it -a priest of another diocese; if he were written to on business by -one of his clergy, he either gave him no answer, or did not reply -for months. Towards the close of his circuit, he arrived at Bernay, -not in the best humour at his ill success, and accepted Berthier’s -invitation to stay at Château Malouve. Thither Lindet was summoned. - -Rumours had come to the bishop’s ears that the liberal party -among his clergy, in casting about for a suitable delegate at the -approaching convocation, had mentioned the name of the curé of S. -Cross. No name could possibly have been suggested more calculated -to irritate monseigneur; and the bishop had arrived at Bernay with -a settled determination to crush Lindet. The means were simple: he -had but to sign his name and Lindet was cast adrift; but he must -have some excuse for inhibiting him; and to provide him with this, -Ponce, the _officiel_, was summoned to Bernay. The excuse was, -however, ready, and awaiting his arrival,--an excuse a great deal -more plausible than he had ventured to expect. The bishop had not -been an hour in the château before Foulon had made him acquainted -with ‘a scandal which had compromised Religion and the Church in that -neighbourhood,’ and had told him how that Lindet had received a young -woman into his house at midnight, and had not dismissed her till next -morning, when he had sent her to his brother, the lawyer, to be his -servant. - -Now it happened that the incident had caused no scandal in Bernay, as -Foulon had predicted, for the musician had from his window witnessed -what had taken place; Berthier’s character was well known in Bernay, -and the disappearance of Gabrielle had been widely commented upon. -A few malicious persons, perhaps, alluded to the priest’s part in -recovering the girl, as indicating a very unaccountable interest in -her, but the circumstance had roused a deep indignation against -the Intendant in the breasts of the Bernay people, which was not -allayed when it transpired through Lindet, that Madame Berthier, the -protectress of the girl, had been carried off to Paris by soldiers, -to be incarcerated in the Bastille. - -When Thomas Lindet reached Château Malouve, he was shown into the -yellow room, once occupied by the afflicted lady, and which Berthier -had surrendered to the prelate as his office during his stay. - -Lindet found the bishop seated near the window, at the head of a -long table, beside which sat M. Ponce, acting as his secretary. -Monseigneur de Narbonne bowed stiffly, without rising from his chair, -or removing his biretta; his red face flushed purple as the priest -entered, but gradually resumed its usual ruddy hue. - -‘I have received a paper, which M. Ponce will do us the favour of -reading,’ said the bishop in a pompous tone, without raising his eyes -from the table, or for a moment looking the curé full in the face--‘a -paper which contains grave charges of a moral nature against you, -Robert Thomas Lindet--your name is correctly stated, is it not?’ - -‘Yes, my Lord.’ - -‘But your brother, the lawyer, is also Robert.’ - -‘Monseigneur, his name in full is Jean Baptiste Robert.’ - -‘Then you are both Robert?’ - -‘Both, my Lord; but I have always been called by my second name.’ - -‘M. Ponce, will you kindly----’ the bishop bent slightly towards his -officer. - -That gentleman rose, and taking up a paper, read in a voice devoid of -expression:-- - -‘We, the undersigned, did, on the night of September 3, 1788, see a -young girl, Gabrielle André, secretly enter the parsonage of Robert -Thomas Lindet, curé of S. Cross, at Bernay, between the hours of -eleven and twelve at night, the said Robert Thomas Lindet himself -admitting her, and closing and locking the door after her. And we, -the undersigned, have ascertained that the said girl, Gabrielle -André, did remain in the house of the priest that night till the hour -of seven in the morning.’ - -This document was signed by Foulon, Berthier, Gustave, and Adolphe. - -The bishop closed his fingers over his breast, leaned back in -his chair, thrust his feet out under the table, settled his neck -comfortably in his cravat, and looked at Lindet. - -The priest grew pale, not with fear, but with indignation. - -‘Have you anything to say upon this?’ asked the prelate, blandly. -Lindet flashed a glance at him, and the bishop’s eyes fell instantly. - -‘Is this true?’ again asked the bishop, after a pause. - -‘Perfectly,’ answered the priest in a hard voice. - -‘I ask you whether, or not, you have thereby brought scandal on the -Church?’ - -‘I do not care.’ - -‘M. Lindet, please to remember in whose presence you stand.’ - -‘I am not likely to forget, monseigneur.’ - -‘Then answer in a becoming way.’ - -‘My Lord! I ask to see my accusers.’ - -‘This is no public trial.’ - -‘I shall not answer till they are brought here face to face with me.’ - -‘I am your bishop. I insist on your answering me what I ask. You are -contumacious, sir. You forget where you are.’ - -‘That also,’ said Lindet, ‘I do not forget. I remember but too -distinctly that I am in the house of a man notorious for his crimes, -and whose hospitality you accept. I ask you, my Lord, whether or not -you have thereby brought scandal on the Church.’ - -The bishop half started out of his chair. - -‘This insolence is simply intolerable. To my face----’ - -‘Better than behind your back. I tell you--the head of the Church in -this diocese, the guardian of religion and morality--that you are -outraging decency by lodging in this polluted den.’ - -‘Leave my presence this instant,’ said the bishop. ‘Ponce! turn him -out.’ - -‘No,’ said Lindet, taking a chair, and leaning his hands on the back -to steady himself, for his limbs trembled with excitement; ‘no, -monseigneur; a charge has been brought against me, a slur has been -cast on my character, and I ask to meet my accusers face to face.’ - -‘Pardon me!’ The door opened, and Foulon stepped in, bearing some -peaches on a leaf. ‘My dear Lord, I must positively offer you this -fruit, the very last on the tree. I thought all were gone, but these -are so luscious. Pray accept them.’ - -Lindet faced him instantly, with abruptness. - -‘Monsieur Foulon, I am glad you are here.’ - -‘Ah, ha! my dear curé. Sly fellow! Do you remember the pretty little -peasantess? Well, I allow she was pretty, bewitching enough to have -captivated a saint, therefore quite excusable in a curé to have been -ensnared.’ - -‘Monsieur Foulon!’ said the prelate with dignity, ruffling up, and -throwing a tone of reprimand into his voice. - -‘I beg your lordship’s pardon a thousand times, but he is too sly. He -amuses me infinitely.’ - -Thomas Lindet had much difficulty in controlling his naturally quick -temper. He gripped the back of the chair with nervous force, and his -lips whitened and trembled. - -‘I know you will allow me,’ said Foulon, withdrawing the chair; and -bringing it to the table, he seated himself upon it. - -Lindet, standing without support, shook like a leaf in the wind. He -folded his arms on his breast, and pressed them tightly against it, -to keep down the bounding heart. - -‘Monseigneur,’ he said, ‘this person has charged me with having -received a poor girl into my house.’ - -‘I saw her slip in, and I heard you bolt the door after her,’ said -Foulon; ‘you did not suppose that anyone would be about at midnight, -eh?’ - -‘Was she a relation?’ asked the bishop. - -‘She was not, my Lord,’ answered the curé. - -‘A relative of your housekeeper?’ - -‘No.’ - -‘Who was she?’ - -‘She was a poor orphan girl, whom Madame Berthier, that person’s -daughter, had entrusted to my charge, to protect her from M. -Berthier. The child was in danger here----’ - -‘Excuse me,’ said Foulon in a grave tone, addressing himself to the -bishop, ‘is this curé to bring charges of such a nature as this -against my son-in-law, in his own house?’ - -‘You are right,’ answered Monseigneur de Narbonne; ‘I insist on you, -M. Lindet, exculpating yourself without slandering others.’ - -‘M. Foulon,’ said the priest, turning upon the old gentleman, then -engrossed in snuffing; ‘you know that what I say is true. You know -that the child was decoyed into this house by your son-in-law; you -know that your own daughter stood between her and her would-be -destroyer.’ - -‘He is mad,’ said Foulon, calmly. ‘Dear, dear me!’ - -Lindet could endure no more; his blood boiled up, and the suppressed -passion blazed into action. He sprang upon the imperturbable old man, -and caught him by the shoulders, and forced him round in his chair to -face him. - -‘Take some snuff,’ said Foulon, extending his box. - -‘Deny what I have said, if you dare!’ - -‘Certainly not; I will deny nothing. Of course the girl was brought -here; of course my Imogène stood between her and ruin; of course -she besought you to stand protector to the child;--there, does that -satisfy you? I grant all, you see, now be calm. Always say “yes, yes” -to a maniac; it is safest,’ he added, aside to the bishop. - -‘I think,’ said Monseigneur de Narbonne, ‘that I have heard quite -enough of this,--enough to satisfy me that M. Lindet is not a fit -person to minister in my diocese. I will trouble you,’ he added, -turning to M. Ponce, ‘to give me that paper you have been so -diligently and kindly drawing up for me. I must inform you,’ he said, -turning his face towards Lindet, ‘that I withdraw your licence, and -inhibit you from performing any ecclesiastical function within my -jurisdiction till further notice.’ - -He took the paper from his secretary, and in a bold hand signed -it--‘F. EBRO.’ - -‘You condemn and punish me, you destroy my character, and ruin me, -without investigating the charge laid against me,’ said the priest. - -‘You have acknowledged that the charge is substantially correct.’ - -‘I have not acknowledged it, nor can you prove that my moral -character is thereby affected.’ - -‘I am quite satisfied that you are greatly to blame,’ said the -bishop. ‘I will not hold a public investigation, because it would -only increase the scandal, and I desire to spare you and the Church -that shame. I am satisfied that you are to blame; that is enough.’ - -‘I demand a thorough investigation,’ said the curé, with great -firmness. - -‘You may demand one,’ answered the bishop, ‘but you shall not get -one.’ - -‘What!’ exclaimed Lindet; ‘I am to be ruined, and to be deprived of -the means of clearing myself!’ - -‘_I_ am satisfied,’ said the bishop, drawing himself up. - -‘But I am not,’ retorted the priest. - -The bishop bowed stiffly, and then turning to M. Ponce, said: ‘I -think we will proceed with other business. Good morning, M. Lindet. -Here is your inhibition.’ - -The curé stood silent for a moment, looking first at the secretary, -then at Foulon, who was engaged in pouring snuff into his palm; then -at the bishop, who had taken up one of the peaches, and with a silver -pocket-knife was pealing it. - -‘My lord bishop!’ said Lindet, ‘hear what I say. We, the priests of -the Church of France, have groaned under an intolerable oppression: -we have been subject, without redress, to the whims and caprices of -the bishop; neither justice nor liberty has been accorded us. I shall -resist this treatment. I shall not submit to be crushed without a -struggle. I appeal to the law.’ - -‘You have no appeal,’ said the prelate, coldly; ‘you are a mere -curate,--a stipendiary curate, and not an incumbent; the incumbent is -under the protection of the law, the curate is removable at the will -of the bishop.’ - -Lindet paused again. - -‘These peaches are delicious,’ said the bishop to Foulon. - -‘Then,’ said the curé, ‘I appeal to the country against -ecclesiastical tyranny. You spiritual lords, with your cringing -subserviency to the crown, with your utter worldliness, with your -obstructiveness to all religious movement in your dioceses, with -your tenacious adherence to abuses, and with your arbitrary despotic -treatment of your clergy, have taught us to hate the name of -Establishment; to cry to God and the people to destroy a monstrous, -odious sham, and restore to the Church its primitive independence. I -wait the assembly of the States-general, at which the clergy shall -have a voice; and then, my Lord, then I shall speak, and you _shall_ -hear me.’ - -He turned abruptly on his heel, and left the room. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - - -By an order dated January 24th, 1789, the king required that the -desires and reclamations of all his subjects should be transmitted to -him. Every parish was to draw up a statement of its grievances and -its wishes, which was to be handed into the assembly of the secondary -bailiwick, by it to be fused into one which was forwarded to the -grand bailiwick. The secondary bailiwicks of Beaumont-le-Royer, -Breteuil, Conches, Ezy-Nonancourt, Orbec, and Bernay, belonged to the -grand bailiwick of Évreux. The nobility and the clergy drew up their -papers separately. - -Another operation, not less important than the composition of these -_cahiers_, was to be simultaneously accomplished. This was the -election of delegates. - -According to the edict of the 24th January, the ancient distinction -of electors and deputies into three orders, the clergy, the nobility, -and the third estate, was maintained. These orders had a common -electoral circumscription, the grand bailiwick. The mode of election -in the two first orders was made the same, but it was different in -the third. - -The nomination of deputies for the clergy was to be made directly -by the bishops, abbés, canons, and other beneficed clergy in the -grand bailiwick. The curés, who subsisted on the _portion congrue_, -in another word, nearly all the clergy in country parishes, could -only vote in person if their parish were within two leagues of the -town in which was held the assembly, unless they had a curate to -take their place during their absence, and provide for the religious -requirements of the people. - -The election was equally direct for the deputies of the nobility. The -nobles possessing fiefs within the jurisdiction of the grand bailiff, -might appear by representatives, but all others were required to -appear in person. - -The third estate, on the contrary, in naming its representatives, -had to traverse three stages. Eight days at latest after having -received the notification, the inhabitants composing the tiers état -in the towns and country parishes, above the age of twenty-five, -were invited to unite in their usual place of assembly, before the -justice, or, in his default, before their syndic, for the purpose -of naming a number of delegates, the number being proportioned to -the population--two for two hundred fires and under, three for more -than two hundred, four for three hundred and over, and so on, in -progression. These delegates were required to betake themselves -to the seat of the secondary bailiwick of their arrondissement, -and there elect one quarter of their number. Those who had -passed this ordeal were next bound to transport themselves to the -principal bailiwick, and there, united with the deputies of that -particular arrondissement of the bailiwick, and with the delegates -of the town corporations, to form, under the presidence of the -lieutenant-general, a college to which was remitted the final -election of deputies. - -Such organization had this advantage,--it gave to the elections, at -a period when the relations of men with each other were much more -limited than they are at present, guarantees of sincerity which -they could not have had by direct universal suffrage. At each stage -the electors knew those who solicited their votes. A communication -was established through an uninterrupted chain of confidential -trusts, from the most humble member of the primary assemblies to the -delegates sent to Versailles from the grand colleges. - -On Monday, the 16th March, 1789, seven hundred and fifty -ecclesiastics, four hundred and thirty nobles, and three hundred -deputies of the third estate, assembled in Évreux for the final -election of delegates. - -At eight o’clock in the morning, the great bell of the Cathedral -boomed over the city to announce the opening of the first session. -From the summit of the central spire floated a white standard, -powdered with golden lilies. Ropes had been flung across the streets, -and from them were slung banners and flags bearing patriotic -inscriptions, ‘Vive le Roy!’ and ‘Vive les États Généraux.’ The -lilies of France fluttered from the windows of the barracks, the -hospital, and the Palais de Justice. - -The weather was cold. The winter had been of unprecedented severity, -and the snow was not gone. On the north side of the Cathedral it was -heaped between the buttresses in dirty patches. It glittered on the -leaden roof of the aisles. In the streets it was kneaded into black -mud; it lurked white and glaring in corners. Women had been up at -daybreak sweeping the slush from their door-steps, and making the -causeway before their houses look as clean as the season permitted. -The limes in the palace-garden had not disclosed a leaf; the buds -were only beginning to swell. - -It was a bright morning, almost the first really sunny springtide day -that year, and it was accepted by all as a glad omen of a bright era -opening on France with the elections of that day. - -A stream of people poured into the Cathedral through the west gate -and northern portal. The nave was reserved for the electors; the -people of Évreux filled the transepts and aisles. In the centre, -under Cardinal Balue’s tower, sat the nobility, many of them -dressed with studious splendour; the clergy occupied the choir, and -overflowed into the choir-aisles. The third estate sat west of the -central tower. This body of men presented marked contrasts in the -appearance of the members constituting it. Side by side with the -lawyer and surgeon, in good black cloth suits, black satin breeches, -and black silk stockings, sat the peasant delegate in coarse blue -cloth jacket, brown cap,--that cap which has been mounted on the -flag-staff of the Republic as the badge of liberty,--and shoes of -brown leather without heels, laced in front. Next to him a miller, -with a broad-brimmed hat, pinched to make it triangular, a velvet -waistcoat, and a coat set with large mother-of-pearl buttons, and -here and there also a curé in cassock turned green with age, and -black bands, edged with white; for some of the country villages sent -their priests to bear their complaints before the great assembly. - -Never had that noble church looked more impressive than on that March -morning. It is peculiarly narrow and lofty, and darkened by the -immense amount of painted glass which fills the windows,--glass of -the highest style of art, and great depth of colour, and thickness of -material. - -The bishop occupied his throne, and the Abbé de Cernay, dean of the -chapter, sang the mass of the Holy Ghost, in crimson vestments. - -Never, probably, has that grand church resounded with a finer choral -burst of song than when, at the conclusion of the mass, those seven -hundred and fifty priests, with the choir, and a number of the laity, -joined with the thunder of the organ, in the _Veni Creator_, sung to -the melody composed by good King Robert of France. - -The assembly was then constituted in the nave of the Cathedral. -The candles were extinguished, the fumes of incense faded away, -the clergy who had assisted in robes retired to lay aside their -vestments; seats and a table were placed in the nave at the -intersection of the transepts, and M. de Courcy de Montmorin, grand -bailiff of Évreux, took his seat as president. Beside him sat M. -Girardin, lieutenant-general of the bailiwick, and on his left M. -Gozan, procureur of the king. Adrian Buzot, chief secretary, sat pen -in hand at the table. On the right, filling the northern transept, -sat the clergy in a dense black body, with the bishops of Évreux -and Lisieux at their head in purple velvet chairs, studded with -gold-headed nails. The bishops wore their violet cassocks, lace -rochets, and capes, over which hung their episcopal crosses. In the -south transept were placed the nobles; and the third estate filled -the first three bays of the nave below the cross. - -As soon as the assembly was seated, and silence had been established, -the grand bailiff rose. He was a venerable man, of noble appearance, -with a fresh complexion, bright clear grey eyes, and a flowing -beard whiter than the late snow without. Raising his _chapel_ from -his blanched head as he began his speech, he replaced it again. -His voice, at first trembling and scarcely audible in that vast -building, gradually acquired tone, and was, towards the close of the -address, heard by every one in that great concourse. - -‘I give thanks to Heaven,’ said the old man, lifting his cap and -looking upwards, ‘that my life has been prolonged to this moment, -which opens before us, under the auspices of a beloved monarch, a -perspective of happiness, which we should hardly have ventured to -hope for. - -‘What an epoch in our annals, and, indeed, in those of humanity! -A sovereign consults his people on the means of assuring their -felicity, and assembles around him all those gifted with political -knowledge, to strengthen, or rather, to relay the bases of general -prosperity. - -‘Already, from one end of France to the other, those social ideas -which establish the rights of man and citizenship on true and solid -foundations have been disseminated. Government, far from attempting -to hinder the spread of these ideas, has allowed them a liberty in -accordance with its own generous purposes. - -‘It is for us, gentlemen, to show ourselves worthy of this noble -confidence reposed in us by our sovereign; it is for us to second the -views of a monarch who consecrates for ever his power, by showing -that he desires to endear it to his subjects. - -‘Experience has taught kings, as it has their subjects, that this -alone is the means of protecting and securing the royal prerogative -from the seductions of their ministers, who too frequently have -stamped the decrees of their selfish passions, their errors, and -their caprice, with the seal of a cherished and sacred authority. - -‘In order that we may arrive at that patriotic aim, dear to our -hearts, we have to endeavour to maintain concord and mutual -consideration between the three orders. Let us then from this moment -suppress our own petty, selfish interests, and subordinate them -to that dominant interest which should engross and elevate every -soul--the public weal. - -‘The clergy and the nobility will feel that the grandest of all -privileges is that of seeing the person and property of each under -national security, under the protection of public liberty, the only -protective power which is durable and infallible. - -‘The third estate will remember the fraternal joy with which all -orders have hailed the success of the third in obtaining its demands. -Let it not envy its elder brethren those honorific prerogatives, -rendered legitimate by their antiquity, and which, in every monarchy, -accompany those who have rendered service to their country, and whose -families are venerable through their age. - -‘Generous citizens of all orders, you whom patriotism animates, you -know all the abuses, and you will demand their reform at the ensuing -council of the nation. - -‘I do not agitate the question of the limit of the powers given to -our deputies. Public opinion has decided that; in order that they -may operate efficaciously, they must be, if not wholly unlimited, at -least very extensive. - -‘Such are the ideas, gentlemen, which I submit to your consideration. - -‘I assure you solemnly of the sincerity with which I offer up my -prayers for the public welfare. This hope--so sweet, yet so late in -coming to me, now far advanced in years, is the consolation of my -age, rejuvenated by the light of a new era which promises to dawn, -inspiring with hope us who stand on the brink of eternity, and which -will be the glory of our posterity. We shall lay the foundations, -another generation will rejoice in the superstructure. I thank God -that this feeble hand is called even to the preparatory work, and, -gentlemen, I conclude with the words of the Psalmist: “_Respice in -servos tuos, et in opera tua, et dirige filios eorum._”’ - -The venerable bailiff sat down; a thrill of emotion ran through the -assembly. In perfect silence, the roll-call and verification of -powers was begun. - -Amongst those names first proclaimed, in the order of the nobility, -was that of Louis-Stanislas Xavier, son of France, Duke of Anjou, -Alençon and Vendôme, Count of Perche, Maine and Senonches, Lord of -the bailiwicks of Orbec and Bernay. This prince, who was afterwards -Louis XVIII, was represented by the Marquis of Chambray. - -When the names of the clergy were read, Monseigneur de Narbonne -turned his ear towards Adrian Buzot. - -‘Robert Thomas Lindet, curate of S. Cross, at Bernay.’ - -‘I object,’ said the bishop, raising his hand. - -The secretary turned to him, and asked his reason. - -‘He is disqualified from appearing. He is under inhibition.’ - -Lindet sprang to his feet and worked his way to the front. ‘I -maintain,’ said he, ‘that an inhibition does not disqualify me from -appearing.’ - -The bishop leaned back in his velvet chair, crossed his feet, folded -his hands, and looked at the president. - -‘I have been inhibited without just cause, without having been given -a hearing, or allowed to clear myself of imputations maliciously cast -upon me.’ - -‘M. Lindet,’ said the grand bailiff, ‘we cannot enter upon the -question of the rights of the inhibition; we are solely concerned -with the question, whether that said inhibition incapacitates you -from voting.’ - -‘Quite so,’ the prelate interjected; then his cold grey eye rested -upon Lindet, who returned the look with one of defiance. - -M. de Courcy whispered with the Procureur du Roi. - -‘I think,’ said the bishop, in a formal tone, ‘that, whatever may -be the decision on the legality of your appearing, M. Lindet, there -can be but one opinion on its propriety. If you have not the decency -to remain in retirement, when lying under rebuke for scandalous and -immoral conduct, you will probably not be shamed by anything I may -say.’ - -‘My Lord,’ began the curé, ‘I protest--’ but he was interrupted by -the president, who, nodding to M. Gozan, the agent for the king, said: - -‘The objection raised by monseigneur appears to me not to invalidate -the claim of M. Lindet to have a voice in the redaction of the -cahiers and the election of the clerical delegates. The order of his -Majesty makes no provision for the case of a clerk under censure, -and silence on this point may fairly be construed in his favour. The -sentence upon him was purely spiritual, his status as stipendiary -curate remains unaltered. If he have a grievance, an opportunity is -graciously afforded him by his Majesty of declaring it. The ends -proposed would be frustrated, if all those who had grievances were -precluded by an exercise of authority on the part of their lords, -feudal or spiritual, from expressing them.’ - -The bishop coloured, bowed stiffly, and began to converse in a low -tone with M. de la Ferronays, bishop of Lisieux. - -The preliminary work of calling over the names of electors and -delegates occupied the session of that day. At four o’clock in the -afternoon it was dissolved, and the vast concourse began to flow out -at the Cathedral doors. - -But it was observed by the bishops, that the clergy showed no signs -of moving from their places. - -M. de Narbonne rose from his violet velvet chair, and with a smile at -his brother prelate, and then at the dean, suggested that they should -retire through the private entrance in the south transept to the -palace garden. - -He was about to cross before the table at which Adrian Buzot was -still engaged with his papers, when Thomas Lindet, standing on his -chair, addressed him. - -‘My Lord! you have this morning publicly attacked my character, by -asserting that my conduct has been “scandalous and immoral.” I demand -of you, before these my brother priests, to state the grounds upon -which you base that charge.’ - -The bishop, taking the arm of his suffragan, did not even turn to -look at the curé, but began to speak rapidly to his brother prelate. - -‘My Lord! are you going to answer me, or are you not?’ again asked -Lindet. ‘I appeal to you as a Christian--not as a bishop. You have -damaged my character. State frankly your reasons for doing so. Give -me an opportunity of clearing myself.’ He had spoken calmly so far, -but all at once his natural impetuosity overpowered him, and he -burst forth with the sentence: ‘Stay! you have just genuflected -towards the Host! you have bent the knee in homage to Him who is -Mercy and Justice, whose minister you are. In His name I demand -justice. Mercy I have long ago ceased to expect.’ - -‘I had rather be keeper of a lunatic asylum,’ said the Bishop of -Lisieux, ‘than be custos of a herd of wild curés.’ - -The Bishop of Évreux laughed aloud. The laugh echoed through the -aisles, and was heard by the priests, as he laid his hand on the -private door. - -The dense black mass of clerics rose, and the bishop darted through -the door with purple cheek and blazing eye, as a hiss, long and -fierce, broke from that body of priests he shepherded. - -‘Barbarians! blackguards!’ said the bishop, shaking his fist at the -Cathedral, as he shut the door behind him and quenched that terrible -sound. ‘Wait! I have chastised you hitherto with whips; when these -States-General are over, I shall thrash you into subserviency with -scorpions.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - -On the following day, March 17, the three orders betook themselves -to their several places of reunion, to draw up their memorials of -grievances. The clergy assembled in the hall of the Seminary of S. -Taurinus under the presidency of the bishop of the diocese, assisted -by the Bishop of Lisieux, Féron de la Ferronnais. The nobility met in -the Church of S. Nicholas, with the grand bailiff as their chairman, -and the third estate occupied the audience chamber of the Viscount’s -court, and was presided over by M. Girardin. - -The deliberations of the third estate presented no incident worthy of -note. Unanimity reigned among the members, and its resolutions were -in accordance with, and had indeed been prepared by, the discussions -conducted in the earlier stages of election. What were the pressing -grievances weighing on the people, have been already shown. The -_cahiers_ from the villages and towns which were read before it threw -a clear light also on ecclesiastical abuses; the principal we shall -extract from these documents for the edification of the reader. - -Intolerable abuses had invaded the collation to benefices. The -revenues which had been provided by the piety of the past for the -maintenance of public worship, for the subsistence of the ministers -of religion, and for the support of the poor, had accumulated in the -hands of a few abbés about the Court and high dignitaries of the -Church. M. de Marbeuf, archbishop of Lyons, was Abbot commendatory -of Bec, the nursery of S. Anselm and Lanfranc; the celebrated -Abbé Maury held in commendam the Abbey of Lyons-la-Forêt; Dom -Guillaume-Louis Laforcade, a Benedictine resident at S. Denis, -was Prior of Acquigny; De Raze, minister of the Prince-bishop of -Bâle, was Prior of Saint-Lô, near Bourg-Achard; Loménie de Brienne, -archbishop of Sens, who was minister of finance in 1788, and of whom -M. Thiers well says, that ‘if he did not make the fortune of France, -he certainly made his own,’ possessed 678,000 livres per annum, drawn -from benefices all over France, and his brother, the Archbishop of -Trajanopolis was non-resident Abbot of the wealthy Abbey of Jumiéges. -This state of things drew from the redactors of the _cahiers_ of -the third estate many bitter recriminations. ‘It is revolting,’ -said Villiers-en-Vexin, ‘that the goods of the Church should only -go to nourish the passions of titulars.’ ‘According to the canons,’ -said the parish of Thilliers, ‘every beneficed clergyman is bound -to give a quarter of his income to the poor. In our parish, with a -revenue of twelve thousand livres flowing into the Church, nothing -returns to the poor but the scanty alms of the ill-paid curate.’ ‘Is -it not surprising,’ said the people of Plessis-Hébert, ‘to see so -many bishops and abbés squander their revenues in Paris, instead of -expending them on religious works, in those places whence they are -derived?’ - -Fontenay wrote in stronger terms: ‘The most revolting abuse is the -miserable exspoliation of the commendatory abbeys. The people are -indignant at it. They see the fruit of their toil pass into the -covetous hands of a titular, deaf to the cries of misery, whose ears -are filled with the clatter of political affairs and the rattle of -pleasure. Let the king seize on the property of the Church and pay -with it the debts of the State--this is what the country desires! The -Church has no need of fiefs to govern souls.’ - -Whilst the high dignitaries rolled in riches, a large class of -priests, and that the most deserving, vegetated in a wretched -condition of poverty. These were the curés of parishes, who were -deprived of the tithe which passed into the hands of some lay or -high clerical impropriator, and who received only a small indemnity, -called the _portion congrue_, scarcely sufficient to keep them from -perishing with hunger. - -The _cahiers_ are full of commiseration for these poor disinherited -sons of the Church. Villiers-sur-le-Roule and Tosny assert ‘that -the benefice of their curés, reduced to the _portion congrue_, is -absolutely insufficient for their support, and for enabling them -to render help to the poor. The Abbé of Conches absorbs half the -tithe, and he does not give a sous to the relief of the parish.’ At -Muids, ‘the collegiate church of Ecouis receives all the tithes. -The chapter gives nothing to the poor, and seeks only to augment -the revenue. The curé is reduced to misery.’ The situation is the -same at Saint-Aubin-sur-Gaillon: ‘The extent of this parish makes -the presence of a curate necessary, and as he receives from the Abbé -de la Croix-Saint Leufroy, who holds the great tithes, only three -hundred and fifty livres, and as the sum is quite insufficient, he is -obliged to go round at harvest-time, like a begging friar, through -the hamlets, asking for corn and wine and apples. Surely this is -lowering the priest, and is adding an impost to the already taxed -parish.’ ‘When the curés have hardly a bare subsistence,’ says the -memorial of Fontenay; ‘when they are reduced to live on what is -strictly necessary, what can they offer to the poor? They have only -their tears. Let the curés have the tithe of the parishes in which -they minister.’ - -Still more hardly treated were the town curés, for the _portion -congrue_ paid them was smaller in proportion than that given to the -country priests, upon the excuse that the difference was made up by -the increased number of fees. But it was forgotten that the charges -and other expenses of a town, the calls on the priest’s purse, were -far greater in a populous city than in a country village. - -The house of the clergy was the theatre of stormy scenes, which broke -out between the high dignitaries and the curés living on the _portion -congrue_. These latter had a numerical advantage; they formed a -majority of thirty to one. On the evening of the 16th, instead of -bearing to the episcopal palace the expression of their deference, -they assembled, to the number of three hundred, in a chapel. There, -disdaining all moderation of language, a curé of the diocese of -Évreux boldly said that the inferior clergy had groaned too long -under the oppression of the bishops, and that it was time to shake -off a yoke which had become as odious as it was intolerable. A second -orator, a curé of the diocese of Lisieux, no less energetically -expressed the same opinion. A third priest, having risen to speak, -began to defend the episcopate, whereupon he was silenced by the -clamour of the throng of priests, and his cassock was torn off his -back. When, on the 17th of March, the official deliberation of the -clergy was opened at the Seminary of S. Taurinus, the Bishop of -Évreux proposed to nominate a secretary, and mentioned his choice; -but his nomination was rejected with a firmness which let him -understand that the vast majority of his clergy were antagonistic to -his wishes. Every proposition made by this prelate and his colleague -met with a similar fate, and the memorial addressed to the Crown was -drawn up without their participation, and in a spirit hostile to the -high clergy. - -On March 21, the Bishop of Évreux, smarting under the humiliations -to which he was exposed, wrote a letter to M. Necker, Minister -of Finances, filled with complaints. It contained the following -passage:--‘It is impossible for me, say what I will to them, to keep -this assembly of wild, excited curates in control. I am cast, like a -Christian of old, _ad leones_. These priests, calculating on their -numbers, are inflated with pride, and bear down all remonstrance. -And these are the men we are to send to the States-General, without -a shadow of knowledge of our ecclesiastical affairs; without a trace -of interest in the maintenance of our prerogatives; without a glimmer -of sympathy for our rights, jurisdictions, fiefs, and our territorial -possessions. They are prepared to overturn everything; they are -indifferent to the spoliation of the Church; they are even prepared -to hail its disestablishment, if one were fool enough to suggest such -a possibility. - -‘The high beneficed clergy are unrepresented; how can they be -otherwise, when the great majority of the deputies are taken -from amongst curés who have, as a general rule, no interest in -defending our properties? You are too just not to be struck with -the inconveniences which this general summons of our clergy to an -assembly must drag down on us, and I venture to hope that in future -I shall not be again subjected to the indignity of presiding over a -tumultuous and disorderly rout, such as that at present assembled. -My zeal for the public welfare, and my devotion to the Crown, have -alone sustained me against the outrages I have endured, to the like -of which I have never previously been subjected in my diocese.’ - -A few days after, the bishop received an answer from M. Necker, -couched in these laconic terms:-- - -‘Monseigneur, I grieve to hear of the schism in the assembly under -your presidence. But who is to blame if the children revolt against -their father? I have read somewhere the injunction, which you, -my Lord, may also possibly have seen, “Fathers, provoke not your -children to wrath.”’ - -On the 23rd, the _cahiers_, or memorials of complaints and -recommendations, were completed, and on the 24th the election of -deputies took place. In the hall of the Seminary the election of -clerical delegates was the scene of the final struggle between the -upper and lower clergy, and it was fought with greatest violence. On -the preceding evening the bishops had concerted with those clergy on -whom they thought they could rely, and had resolved to bring forward -M. Parizot de Durand, incumbent of Breteuil, and M. de la Lande, -curé of Illiers-l’Évêque. The former was a worthy priest, greatly -beloved for his piety, exceedingly obstinate in his adhesion to the -existing state of affairs, and utterly averse to change in any form. -He had a favourite maxim, ‘quieta non movere,’ which he produced -on every possible occasion, and which was, in fact, the law of his -life. It was in vain for those who saw the agitation of mind, and -the effervescence of popular feeling, to assure him that nothing was -quiet; the stolid old Conservative was not to be shaken from his -position, and maintained that this excitement was due to the moving -of things hitherto quiet, and that the only cure for it was to reduce -them to their former condition of stagnation. - -M. de la Lande was a man of family. He had been appointed in 1765 -incumbent of the church of Nôtre-Dame in Illiers-l’Évêque; he was -a pluralist, enjoying, in addition, the incumbency of S. Martin, -the second parish in the barony. The collation to these two rich -benefices belonged to the Bishop of Évreux, who was lord of Illiers, -the barony having been made over to the see by Philip de Cahors in -the thirteenth century. M. de la Lande was a courtier, and was often -at Versailles. In his parish he was liked as an amiable, easy-going -parson, fond of his bottle, and passionately addicted to the chase. - -It was arranged that the bishops and beneficed clergy should -not appear prominently as supporting these candidates, but that -they should be proposed and seconded by members of the assembly -not suspected of being rigid partizans of the _ancien régime_. -Monseigneur de Narbonne had given up the hope of being himself -elected, and deemed it prudent not to allow his name to be proposed. - -At nine o’clock the Bishop of Évreux took his seat in the hall of -the Seminary. The large windows admitted floods of light, and the -casements were opened to allow the spring air to enter. The snow -had wholly disappeared during the last few days, and a breath of -vernal air had swept over the land, promising a return of warmth and -beauty. The swallows were busy about the tower of S. Taurin; from the -bishop’s seat the belfry was visible, and the scream of the excited -birds that wheeled and darted to and fro was audible. Now and then -a jackdaw dashed through the fluttering group with a dry stick in -its beak, to add to the accumulation of years which encumbered the -turret stairs. The Cathedral bell summoned the electors, and they -came to their assembly-room in groups of two and three, and took -their seats in silence. The bishop looked sullen and discontented; -he sat rubbing his episcopal ring, breathing on it, and polishing -it on his cuff, and then looking out of the window at the birds. -His large fleshy cheeks hung down, and their usual beefy redness -was changed to an unwholesome mottle of pink and purple. His barber -had not attended on him that morning, or the prelate had been too -busy to allow himself to be shaved, so that his chin and upper lip -presented a rough appearance, which helped to make him look more ill -at ease and out of condition than he had during the earlier part of -the session. He took no notice of the clergy as they entered, and was -regardless of Monsieur de la Ferronnais when he took his place near -him. Every now and then he muttered to himself expressions of disgust -at the situation in which he was placed, and aspirations for a speedy -termination to the session. - -‘Good morning, my dear Lord,’ said the Bishop of Lisieux, touching -his arm. The Bishop of Évreux looked round sulkily, placed his hands -on the arms of his chair, and raised himself slightly from the seat. -Monseigneur de la Ferronnais was a bright old man, amiable, fond of -fun, not particularly anxious about the turn matters took. He was -sure that ‘all would come right in the end.’ - -‘This is your last day in purgatory,’ he said to his colleague. - -‘I thank Heaven,’ answered Monseigneur de Narbonne, without looking -at him. - -‘You take these troubles too seriously, you lay them too much to -heart,’ continued the Bishop of Lisieux. ‘Let the boys wrangle over -their precious _cahiers_ and _doléances_; we know very well that -they are sops--sops to Cerberus. The Government will never read -them, and it pleases the poor fellows to be called to scribble their -complaints. Possibly the charming queen wants curl-papers for the -ladies of the Court, and has hit on this sweet expedient of obtaining -paper at no personal cost.’ - -‘I cannot, and will not, stand this much longer,’ said the Bishop -of Évreux. ‘I am like the martyr who was stabbed to death with the -styles of his scholars. It is the indignity which I am subjected to -that galls me to the quick.’ - -‘Put your pride in your pocket,’ laughed M. de la Ferronnais. ‘We -have long ago learned to pocket our conscience at the bidding of the -Crown; perhaps our self-respect may fill the other pocket, and so -balance be preserved.’ - -The Bishop of Évreux did not answer. The Cathedral bell had ceased, -and, with an expression of impatience and disgust visible to all in -the room, he rang his hand-bell and opened the sitting. - -‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘we have before us this day an important -duty to fulfil. Let me ask of you to remember that it is not to be -undertaken lightly and in a spirit of private pique. You have to -elect delegates to the national council. You are hardly aware how -great are the issues in the hands of that assembly. If you send -men to utter there the wild sentiments you have been pleased to -express in your paper to the king, you will revolutionise France and -the Church. That there have been, and still exist, abuses in the -political and ecclesiastical worlds, I am the last to deny. In times -of great excitement, extreme partizans of change may precipitate -the constitution into an abyss from which it would take centuries of -reconstruction to recover it. You will be good enough to remember -that the Church in this land is established, that it enjoys great -privileges and possessions; that to wrest from her those possessions -would be to leave her suddenly in a condition of destitution for -which she is wholly unprovided, and to rob her of her privileges -will be to subject her to an indignity from which it is your place -to shield her, as your spiritual mother and the bride of Christ. -Gentlemen, hitherto you have exhibited yourselves as a compact and -resolute body of malcontents. I do not use the word in an injurious -sense. I say you have exhibited yourselves as malcontents, as -dissatisfied with the existing state of affairs in Church and State. -If you wish to have abuses rectified, it will not be by violent men -who endeavour to tear down every institution which by its antiquity -has become full of rents, but it will be by men of calm judgment and -reconstructive ability, who will carefully and reverently restore -and re-adapt what is decayed and antiquated. I ask of you, then, in -the interest of your order, to elect persons of matured judgment and -practical experience. It can be no secret to you that the fate of -France depends on the attitude assumed by your delegates. The house -of the nobility is naturally attached to conservative principles, -that of the third estate is liberal and revolutionary. It will be -our mission to arbitrate between these contending interests, on -the one side to conciliate the people, and on the other to move the -aristocracy to relinquish their most obnoxious privileges, and to -lend their shoulders to ease the third estate of the yoke which, it -is universally acknowledged, presses upon them unduly. Above all, -let us avoid being divided in our own house. We touch both of the -other estates. On one hand, we are allied with the noblesse; on -the other hand, we are attached to the _tiers état_. Through our -hierarchy we are in communication with the noble class, through our -curates we pulsate with the heart of the unprivileged class. Let not -that double union lead to a dissolution of our body, but rather to a -harmonization of the other bodies. _Omne regnum in seipsum divisum -desolabitur, et domus supra domum cadet._’ - -This address, so full of good sense, was not without its effect upon -the clergy. Some began to feel that they had been a little too hard -on the privileged party in the assembly, and that an attempt at -conciliation might now well be made. - -Jean Lebertre, curé of La Couture, rose and said: - -‘Monseigneur, and you my fellow-electors,--At the coming assembly of -the estates of this realm, it is well that all interests should be -represented,--that which desires a redistribution of the funds of -the Church, and that which desires that they should remain in the -hands of a few as prizes to those who are most diligent and most -deserving.’ - -A Voice: ‘When are the prizes so given?’ - -‘Well,’ continued Lebertre, ‘suppose that they are given to the -clergy who by birth or political influence have some claim to receive -them, what then? Is not the Church brought into intimate contact -with both rich and noble, and poor and commoner? If her clergy are -to exert influence over those in the highest classes, they must be -enabled to move in those classes, and to leaven them. To do so, -they must receive an income proportionate to the requirements of -such a life. God forbid that the Church should be only the Church -of the poor and ignorant; and that she must become, if you rob her -of prizes. Educated and intellectual men will not enter her orders -unless they are provided with a competency. We country curés do not -want wealth; our lot is cast among the poor, and by being ourselves -poor, we have a fellow-feeling for our flock, and our flock have an -affection for us. The beneficed clergy, pluralists and commendatory -abbots, are wealthy, and are thus enabled to enter into high society, -and to infuse into it religious principles and a love of morality. -Take away their means, and you withdraw all spiritual influence from -the most powerful, because the highest, stratum of society. I propose -as one candidate for the clergy of this assembly, M. Parizot de -Durand, curé of Breteuil, a priest of unblemished character, and a -man of solid common sense.’ - -M. de Durand was seconded. - -But immediately after, the Abbé Lecerf started up and proposed Thomas -Lindet, curé of Bernay. - -Instantly an expression of anger,--a sudden dark cloud, obscured the -countenance of the president. - -‘I take it as a deliberate insult to myself, that a man should -be proposed to represent the clergy of the diocese who is under -inhibition from me,’ he said, in a passionate loud tone. - -Monseigneur de la Ferronnais shrugged his shoulders, and tapping the -Bishop of Évreux on the back of his hand with his middle finger, -said: ‘You have made as great a mistake now as you made a great hit -by your first speech.’ - -That the Bishop of Lisieux was right became at once apparent. Lindet -sprang up, on fire, in a blaze. - -‘There, there!’ he said, stretching out his hands, that quivered with -excitement and the vehemence of his utterance; ‘see what he wants you -to commit yourselves to--to support the absolute and irresponsible -exercise of discipline. Why am I under inhibition? I will tell you -all. A friend of the bishop’s, then, is a man notorious for his -immoralities, a man very great at Court, or be sure he would not be -monseigneur’s friend. Well, this man attempted to seduce a poor girl, -a peasant’s daughter. She fled from her seducer, and I protected -her, and saved her, at the earnest entreaty of the man’s own wife. -He thereupon charges me with what he himself had failed to do, and -the bishop, who is his guest, complaisantly, at his host’s request, -inhibits me without allowing me a fair hearing, and an open trial.’ - -‘Are we going to be pestered with this nonsense here?’ asked the -bishop, angrily. ‘I pronounce this not to be the place for such -questions to be ventilated.’ - -‘What place is?’ suddenly asked Lindet, turning upon the prelate; ‘I -have asked for a trial, open and fair; I cannot get one. I have no -wish to be your representative, gentlemen; but what I do wish is, -that the whole body of clergy here should protest unanimously against -these arbitrary judgments, and insist on impartiality in our judges.’ - -He sat down. A murmur of sympathy ran through the crowd. A curé of -the town of Évreux sprang up. - -‘How shall we best declare our indignation at the exercise of -authority which is unjust and arbitrary? Surely by electing the man -who has thus signally been ill-treated. I second the nomination of M. -Lindet.’ - -‘I refuse to put his name to the meeting,’ said the bishop. - -‘My brother!’ exclaimed Monseigneur de la Ferronnais, ‘you are -throwing everything into their hands. Be cool.’ - -‘You are not competent to refuse,’ said the Abbé Lecerf. ‘If you -abdicate your place as president, we shall elect another president. -As long as you occupy the chair, monseigneur, you must propose -whoever is named.’ - -‘I contend,’ spoke the dean, rising slowly, ‘that this proposal is -indecent. There are certain charges which it is not well should be -given to the world, and discussed in public. If the bishop sees fit -to exercise his prerogative, and to secretly punish a priest without -publishing his reasons, he is perfectly justified in so doing. It is -necessary to screen the Church from scandal.’ - -‘It is never justice to condemn unheard,’ said Lecerf. - -‘We have groaned too long under this arbitrary exercise of power. -The bishop may suspend and inhibit any congruist in his diocese,’ -exclaimed another priest. ‘If he chooses, he can at any future -occasion, when his gracious Majesty summons us again,--he can, I say, -hold the election in his own hands by suspending and inhibiting all -those who are stipendiary curates, and thus throw all the power into -the scale of the high clergy.’ - -‘It is a question of liberty to elect or of servitude,’ shouted -another curé. - -‘Gentlemen,’ said an old ecclesiastic of Évreux, ‘I was present -last autumn during a conversation between the bishop’s _officiel_, -M. Ponce, and an abbé, whom I see before me, but will not name,--an -abbé, gentlemen, whom I have noticed to be exceedingly diligent in -whipping up voters on the side of privilege. During the conversation -at which I was present, the name of M. Lindet, curé of Bernay, was -mentioned. The abbé here present stated that he had heard rumours -of the intention of some of the clergy of the deanery of Bernay to -make an attempt to nominate M. Lindet as a distinguished upholder of -liberal opinions, and as a priest of much experience and of great -influence. The officer of monseigneur, sitting yonder in the chair, -replied to this that he had discussed the matter with the bishop, -and that they had agreed to stop the nomination at all ventures. M. -Ponce suggested an inhibition, and he said that the bishop had sent -him to Bernay to find some excuse for serving one on the unfortunate -curé of that parish. I address myself to his Lordship, our president. -Let him deny this if he dares. If he does deny it, I shall at once -mention the name of the abbé whom I heard in conversation with the -_officiel_.’ - -A storm was instantly evoked: some clamoured for the name, others -called on the bishop to answer, and others cried ‘Shame, shame!’ - -‘Let the name of M. Lindet be put to the meeting?’ asked the same old -priest. ‘His Lordship is sullen. Rise, all who vote for M. Lindet.’ - -Instantly five or six hundred electors sprang up and waved their -hands above their heads. - -‘Those in favour of M. Durand, stand up.’ - -There was a clatter, as the voters for the inhibited priest sat down, -and about fifty stood up. - -‘Take the numbers,’ rose in a shout from the others. - -Monseigneur de la Ferronnais held his superior by the arm, or the -Bishop of Évreux would have left the room in a fury. - -‘For Heaven’s sake!’ exclaimed he, ‘do be calm. Accept this vote, and -you will get your own man in as the second delegate.’ - -‘I will have nothing more to say to this assembly of ruffians,’ said -the Bishop of Évreux, wrenching his hand away. - -‘I beseech you remain here.’ - -‘Not another moment,’ he said, rising. - -There burst from the mass of priests a shout: - -‘He has vacated the chair!’ - -‘Let the Bishop of Lisieux take it!’ cried the Abbé Lecerf. - -‘The Bishop of Lisieux in the chair! Long live the new president!’ - -Monseigneur de la Ferronnais looked at the Bishop of Évreux. - -‘What is to be done?’ he asked. - -‘Take the chair, in God’s name,’ answered the president, thrusting it -towards him; ‘I will not remain here another moment.’ - -‘You must indeed remain,’ said the Bishop of Lisieux, ‘unless you are -inclined to pass through all those infuriated priests to the door. -There is no side entrance to be used as an easy mode of exit.’ - -Monseigneur de Narbonne scowled down the hall; his colleague was -right, and he seated himself in the chair of his suffragan. - -The Bishop of Lisieux rose to the occasion. As he took the place of -the late president a smile illumined his face--a smile full of good -humour, which was at once reflected from every face in the saloon. - -‘Be quiet, you babies!’ he said, stretching his right hand towards -the ranks of discontented priests; and then he laughed a bright, -ringing laugh, full of freshness. - -Instantly it was echoed from every part of the room. - -‘I was once in Spain,’ began Monseigneur de la -Ferronnais;--Monseigneur de Narbonne winced;--‘I was once in Spain, -at the city of Pampeluna. I found a crowd of people hurrying to the -great square before the principal church. What did they rush there -for? To see a bull baited. I returned to France. I stayed a day or -two in the cathedral town of Bayonne. I found the city assembled on -the quay of the Adour. Wherefore? To enjoy the sport of bear-baiting. -Gentlemen! I have seen a bull baited, I have seen a bear baited, but -never till this day have I witnessed the baiting of a bishop.’ - -He spoke with emphasis, and with that ease of gesture which a -Frenchman knows so well how to make good use of. His words raised a -storm of laughter and cheers. The Bishop of Évreux writhed in his -chair. His suffragan turned towards him, extended his arms as though -to embrace him, laid his head on one side, and in a tone full of -commiseration said: ‘He is down! shall we spare him? In the arena -of ancient Rome, the gladiator who fell elevated the index of his -right hand to ask pity of the spectators---- I see--’ Monseigneur de -Narbonne had his hand up to stop his colleague, but at the allusion, -he instantly withdrew it with a frown. ‘Now, my good spectators, who -are also his assailants, do you stand _presso_ or _verso pollice_? -That is right! You are spared, my Lord Bishop of Évreux.’ - -He seated himself with rapid motion, and crossed his legs; then, -composing his face, he said: - -‘I suppose I need not have voting-papers upon M. Lindet. It is hardly -necessary for me to put his name before you again, but we must -proceed formally. M. Lindet has been proposed by the Abbé Lecerf, and -seconded by M. Rigaud. Those in favour of M. Lindet, hold up their -hands.’ - -He counted the raised palms, collectedly, rank by rank, requesting -each row when counted to lower their hands. - -‘Those opposed to M. Lindet, hold up their hands.’ - -In a minute, he declared Thomas Lindet elected delegate to the -National Assembly. - -‘Now, gentlemen,’ said the president, ‘I wish in no way to influence -your votes in other ways than that of sobriety and consideration. -You must remember that the Church will not be fairly represented at -the States-General, if those in the enjoyment of benefices be wholly -excluded. Choose for your second delegate one as liberal, nay, as -revolutionary in his views as you please, but pray choose one who -may represent the moneyed interests of the Church. I leave it to your -sense of justice and propriety.’ - -This little speech was received with hearty applause. - -M. de la Lande was proposed, seconded, and carried almost unanimously. - -The Bishop of Lisieux turned to his angry brother prelate, and -whispered: - -‘Now we have got your own man in. You see what may be done with -good-humour. If you had attempted to browbeat those curés any longer, -they would have elected as their second representative a more furious -democrat than even Lindet himself.’ - -‘I have had humiliations enough to bear without being made the butt -of your jokes before a rabble,’ answered Monseigneur de Narbonne, -sullenly. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - -Gabrielle had found a temporary asylum at the house of Robert Lindet, -the lawyer. Robert lived in a small villa, with his brother Peter, -on the side of the road to Brionne and Rouen. The house stood back -from the dusty highway, with a long strip of garden before it, and a -high wall completely shutting it off from the road. A row of trees -occupied one side of the garden, ending in a green ivy-covered -arbour, in which no one ever sat, as it occupied an angle in the high -walls, and commanded no view, and was by its position excluded from -air and light. - -The garden was poor. Two little patches of flowers--larkspur and -escholtzia and white lilies--were nearly the only ones that grew in -it; the two former sowed themselves, and the latter remained where -it had been planted in Robert’s youth. The rest of the garden was -turf. On it stood a hutch of white rabbits with black noses, which -were constantly escaping over the garden and destroying the flowers. -The house front consisted of two parts, the portion occupied by the -lawyer and his brother, and that given over to the cook and kitchen, -which latter portion was an incongruous adjunct to the trim little -house. The kitchen was on the ground-floor, and a ladder staircase in -the open air gave access to the bedroom above. - -The house--little altered--is at present the abode of the Chaplain to -the Convent of the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament. - -The lower rooms of the house being turned into offices, the brothers -were wont, in cold weather, to sit over the fire in the kitchen, -where Gabrielle presided. - -Gabrielle was not happy. That last piercing cry of her protectress -and friend, Madame Berthier, had entered her heart, and stuck there -like a barbed arrow. As she lay awake at night, she thought of the -huge prison, dark and cold, down whose passages no sunbeams streamed, -and of the poor lady alone there, in solitude and despair. During -the day she thought of her,--of the cold she must feel in her cell, -of the deprivation of scenes of beauty and life. ‘I ought to do -something for her, but what can I do!’ She asked those who knew -anything about Paris whether there would be a possibility of her -obtaining admission to the Bastille, to wait upon the prisoner, but -they all replied with a shake of the head. - -On March 25th, Etienne Percenez was sitting in the kitchen with the -brothers Lindet, whilst Gabrielle washed dishes and forks and spoons -at the sink in the window. - -The conversation had run upon the political movements of the day, the -abuses needing correction, the rights of the people which required -acknowledgment. Gabrielle had listened without much interest, and -the names of Necker, Artois, Sartines, De Brienne, &c., had entered -her ear without attracting her attention, when all at once it was -arrested by a remark of the colporteur: - -‘The Bastille and the lettres-de-cachet! Have they been protested -against?’ - -‘The time has not come,’ said Robert Lindet; ‘our cahiers mention -grievances of which we are personally cognizant. When the -States-general meet, then every nook and cranny of the old _régime_ -will be searched and swept out.’ - -‘What can be more iniquitous than the lettre-de-cachet?’ asked -Percenez; ‘the king gives blank forms for any one to fill in, -and thus lives and liberties are sacrificed without trial. -Saint-Florentin gave away fifty-thousand. What became of these blank -orders of imprisonment? They were matters of traffic; fathers were -shut up by their sons, husbands by their wives; Government clerks, -their mistresses, and the friends of the mistresses,--any pretty -woman of easy virtue inconvenienced by a strait-laced husband or -father or mother, with a little civility, flattery, money, could get -these terrible orders by which to bury those they desired to get rid -of.’ - -‘And sometimes,’ said Robert, ‘the Bastille was an easy payment of a -State debt. The Baron and Baroness Beausoleil spent their fortune and -their time in opening valuable mines. When all their wealth was gone, -they applied to Richelieu for payment, or at least a recognition of -their services. The recognition was accorded them. They were shut up -for life in the Bastille, apart from one another, and separated for -ever from their children!’ - -‘Ah!’ exclaimed Peter; ‘this is too bad. You know that the king had -abolished these lettres-de-cachet. Why do you rake up old grievances -which are long dead?’ - -‘Dead grievances!’ said Stephen Percenez; ‘you forget, Monsieur -Pierre, they are only asleep, not dead. It is true Louis XVI has -forbidden the incarceration of any one at the request of their -families, without a well-grounded reason. But who is to be judge -of the soundness of the reason? And who forced him to decree -that?--Madame Legros.’ - -‘Madame Legros!’ said Gabrielle, coming forward; ‘tell me, who was -she?’ - -‘Did you never hear of Latude?’ asked Percenez. - -‘Never,’ answered Gabrielle. ‘Was he a prisoner?’ - -‘Yes, for thirty-four years in Bicêtre and the Bastille, thrown into -the worst dungeons, by the spite of a woman--a harlot, Madame de -Pompadour. He wrote his appeals for mercy, and pardon for crimes he -had never committed, on rags, in his own blood; then they buried him -in holes underground without light, where he spent long years in -domesticating rats. Once a memorial addressed to some philanthropist -or other--one memorial out of a hundred, was lost by a drunken -jailer--a woman picked it up. That woman was a poor mercer, who sat -stitching in her shop door. She picked up the fluttering sheet and -read it, and resolved to liberate the miserable sufferer.’ - -Gabrielle bent forward, with her eyes fixed on the speaker. - -‘What did she do?’ she asked, eagerly. - -‘What did she not do?’ returned Étienne Percenez; ‘she worried every -great man to whom she could obtain access with her story of the -wrongs of Latude, and his sufferings in prison. She consecrated her -life to his. All kinds of misfortune beset her, but she held firmly -to her cause. Her husband remonstrated with her--he called her -enthusiasm folly, for her business failed, as well it might, when -her time was spent in seeking audiences with great Lords and high -Churchmen, and when her attention was fixed on something other than -caps and gowns. Her father died, then her mother. Slanderous tales -were raised about her: it was asserted that she was the mistress -of the prisoner, for whose liberation she laboured, and sacrificed -all. The police threatened her; but she remained invincible. The -story of Latude’s sufferings and of Madame Legros’ self-devotion -spread through France, whispered from one to another. In the depths -of winter, on foot, far advanced in pregnancy, the brave woman set -out for Versailles, resolved to appeal at head-quarters. She found -a femme de chambre inclined to take her memorial to the queen, but -an abbé passing snatched it from her hand, and tore it up, bidding -her not attempt to meddle. Cardinal de Rohan--he, you know, who -was concerned in the affair of the necklace--was good-natured, and -he endeavoured to move Louis XVI to pardon Latude--pardon him for -what? for having in some way caused annoyance to his grandfather’s -mistress; in what way?--nobody knows. Three times the king refused to -pardon and liberate this man whose life had been wasted in a prison. -At last, in 1784, Madame Legros had so worked on public opinion, that -the king was forced to release him. You see what woman can do!’ - -Gabrielle raised her eyes and hands to heaven. - -‘May God enable me to do the same for Madame Berthier!’ she cried. - -‘There now, Étienne,’ said Robert, with a curl of the lip; ‘you have -applied a match to a barrel of gunpowder.’ - -‘Ah! if it were to blow down the walls of the Bastille!’ said the -pedlar, shaking his brown head. - -‘Dear friend,’ said the girl, laying her hand on Percenez’ arm; ‘she -who saved me in my hour of deepest need, she who stood between me and -ruin, is now in that awful place. Her last cry was to me to save -her. Tell me, what can I do?’ - -‘Nothing, absolutely nothing, except washing up dishes,’ answered -Robert Lindet. - -She did not attend to him, but looked straight into Percenez’ eyes. -The girl was so beautiful, so earnest and enthusiastic, that the -colporteur gazed on her with admiration, and did not answer. - -‘I must do something,’ she proceeded to say; ‘I hear her voice -calling me, night and day. That cry of “Gabrielle, save me!” haunts -me. I am tortured with inactivity.’ - -‘My good girl,’ Robert observed, ‘there is not the slightest occasion -for inactivity. There are the floors to be scoured, and the cobwebs -to be brushed away, and the dishes to be washed.’ - -‘Good, kind master!’ cried the girl, turning to him; ‘you have -received me when I was homeless. But did I not tell you that I could -not remain in your service? I warned you that I had something to do -that must be done----’ - -‘Fudge!’ said the lawyer. ‘You women are highflown, crazy creatures. -You can do nothing for Madame Berthier; content yourself with the -certainty of that, and stick to your kitchen-work, or, if you like it -better, feed the rabbits.’ - -Percenez smiled. A smile on his rugged brown countenance was rare, -and it had meaning whenever it appeared. - -‘Excuse me, M. Lindet,’ he said; ‘I have faith in enthusiasm. Before -that every barrier goes down. It is absolutely unconquerable.’ - -‘Enthusiasm is faith run to extravagance,’ answered the lawyer. -‘Enthusiasm is good for a dash, but it is not fit for continuous -work. Enthusiasm would level a mountain, but it would never -reconstruct it.’ - -‘Hark!’ exclaimed Peter, holding up his finger. - -The others were silent and listened. They heard the bells of S. Cross -pealing merrily. - -‘What can be the occasion?’ asked Percenez. - -Peter took his pipe out of his mouth, and walked slowly into the -garden. Robert and Stephen followed him. From the high stone wall the -clamour of the bells was echoed noisily. - -‘It is very odd,’ said Robert; ‘what can be the reason?’ - -At that moment the garden-door opened, and M. Lamy, one of the -curates (_vicaires_) of Bernay, rushed in, his face beaming with -pleasure. - -‘Well! what is the news?’ asked Percenez. - -‘The best, the very best of news,’ answered the priest. ‘M. Thomas -Lindet is elected delegate of the clergy to the Estates-general.’ - -‘An enthusiast,’ said Robert, with a smile aside to Percenez. - -‘Ah! M. Robert, and it is just his enthusiasm which has taken him -ahead of all the rest of the class, and turned him into a delegate.’ - -Whilst Robert and Peter talked with M. Lamy, the little brown -colporteur turned back to the kitchen, and said to Gabrielle: ‘Well, -what about your protectress?’ - -‘My friend,’ answered Gabrielle, earnestly and vehemently; ‘I shall -go to Paris, if I go on foot, and I shall see what can be done. I -will implore the queen on my knees to use her influence to obtain the -release of Madame Berthier.’ - -‘You forget; that lady is not shut up as a political offender, but -because she is insane.’ - -‘I will do what I can,’ answered the girl, simply. ‘She has no one -else to assist her--no one else to speak for her.’ - -‘You are only a peasant-girl.’ - -‘Well! what was Madame Legros?’ - -‘Are you resolved?’ - -She put her hand on her heart. - -‘I must go,’ she said. ‘I have no rest here. I shall have no rest -till I have done my utmost.’ - -‘Paris is a dangerous place for a young and pretty maiden.’ - -‘Ah! Monsieur Étienne, the good God, who raised up a protectress for -me in my need before, will deliver me in any future peril.’ - -‘What have you to live upon in Paris?’ - -‘I do not know.’ - -‘You must bear in mind that great distress exists there, that money -is scarce and provisions are dear.’ - -‘God will provide.’ - -‘He will provide if He calls you there, not otherwise.’ - -‘Is it not His call that I hear now?’ asked the girl, her face -brightening with enthusiasm. ‘My friend, my father’s friend, listen -to me. There is a something within me, I cannot tell you what it is, -which draws me from this place after my dear, unfortunate madame. -Only yesterday I was walking in the wood above La Couture. I went to -pray at a crucifix which I well know, for it was there that M. Lindet -first stood my champion against him whom I will not name. I prayed -there--I cannot tell you for how long, and I asked for a sign--a -sign what I was to do.’ She paused timidly, dropped her eyes, and -continued in a whisper: ‘Whilst I was on my knees, all on an instant -I felt something leap upon my shoulder.’ - -‘Well, child, what was it?’ asked Percenez with a smile. - -‘It was Madame Berthier’s yellow cat, it looked so lean and -neglected, and its yellow dye was nearly worn off it. It knew me, for -it rubbed its head against my cheek.’ - -‘Nonsense, Gabrielle, do you call _that_ a sign?’ - -‘Yes, Monsieur Étienne, it was a sign to me. It would not have been -so to anyone else, may be, but I know what that cat was to the poor -lady, I know what she suffers now in being separated from it; and, if -it were only to restore her cat to her, I would walk barefoot all the -way to Paris.’ - -‘I suspect the only success you will meet with will be that.’ - -‘Well, and that will be something.’ - -‘You are a resolute girl.’ - -‘Monsieur Étienne, I _must_ go.’ - -‘Why so?’ - -‘If I did not go, I should die.’ - -The little brown man looked fixedly at her, and then said: - -‘Gabrielle, I have known you from a little girl. I am going to Paris. -Like you, I _must_ go. I am fixed with a desire to see the working -out of this great problem, the States-General. Gabrielle! the French -people are like your Madame Berthier, chained and in prison. I do -not know whether my feeble voice will avail to effect their release. -You do not know whether yours will liberate one individual out of -that great suffering family. Well! we go in hope, vague may be, but -earnest, and resolved to do our best. We shall go together.’ - -‘What do you say, monsieur?’ - -‘I will go and visit my sister, Madame Deschwanden, and shall take -you with me. We shall see what takes place.’ - -‘You will help me to get to Paris?’ - -‘Yes, I will.’ - -Miaw! The yellow cat, which had been asleep in a corner, was now wide -awake, and at a bound had reached Gabrielle’s shoulder. - -How merrily in Gabrielle’s ear sounded the bells of S. Cross! - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - -Old Paris is no more. Every day some feature of the ancient capital -disappears. This is a commonplace remark. Everyone says it; but few -realize how true it is. We, who revisit that queen of cities after -an interval of--say, ten years, see mighty changes. Streets are open -where were houses once; markets have altered their sites; squares -occupy the place where we remember piles of decaying houses; churches -appear, where we did not know that they stood, so buried were they in -high, many-storied houses. - -We can breathe in Paris now. Down the boulevards the breeze can now -rustle and sweep away the stale odours which once hung all the year -round ancient Paris. - -But we have no conception of what that capital was in 1789. Paris had -grown without system. None had drawn out a plan of what it was to be, -where the streets were to run, and where squares were to open. The -thoroughfares had come by chance, without order, without law, almost -without object; the streets twisted and wound their way between -walls black with smoke, and overhanging; the houses, with their -feet in mud and garbage, and their heads in smoke, stood sideways -to the road, as though they turned away to avoid a disagreeable -sight and odour. Their narrow front to the street was topped with a -high-pitched gable, unless some modern architect had squared it off. -Here and there were cemeteries adjoining markets, a refuse heap on -which lay dead animals in putrefaction, nooks, where beggars crouched -in rags, blind alleys in which squalid children played, open sewers, -and public cesspools. - -The Seine, spanned by five bridges encumbered with low vessels moored -head and stern, out of which the washer-women cleaned their dirty -linen, resembled a wide stagnant ditch. The fall being slight, the -river but leisurely carried off the filth from the sewers, the soap -from the washing-boats, and the dye that flowed into it from the -factories. Add to this the slops and sewage of the Hôtel Dieu, which -contained six thousand patients suffering from all the loathsome -disorders to which human nature is subject, and one can appreciate -the _bon-mot_ of Foote, when he was asked by a Parisian whether he -had such a river in London, ‘No, we had such an one, but we stopped -it up (alluding to the Fleet Ditch); at present, we have only the -Thames.’ - -Beneath the Pont Nôtre Dame, a net was every night let down to stop -the bodies of drowned men, and of such as were murdered and thrown -into the river. - -At seven in the morning, twice a week, a bell was rung through the -streets for the inhabitants to sweep before their houses; but for -this, there would have been no possibility of walking, there being no -foot-way. - -Gabrielle and the little brown Percenez entered Paris on the 28th of -April. The streets, crowded with people, astonished the girl. Her -eyes turned with wonder from side to side. The height of the houses, -the intricacy of the streets, the antiquity of the buildings, the -number of crossings, shops, coffee-houses, stalls, were such as -she had never seen before. Her ears were assailed by the cries of -fruiterers and pedlars of all sorts with their carts, and by the -rattle and rumble of wheels upon the stone pavement. As a coach -drove by, the girl and her conductor stepped up against the wall, -there being no footway; when a couple of carriages met, it was often -difficult to avoid being run over. The hackney coaches, distinguished -then, as they are now, by numbers in yellow painted on their backs, -jolted past in shoals. Uneasy, dirty vehicles they were, with a -board slung behind the coach-box, upon which the driver stood. Trim -little sedan chairs on wheels some thirty inches high, dragged by -a man between shafts like the handles of a wheelbarrow, dived in -and out among the stalls and carriages, and rattled jauntily and -expeditiously along. Sometimes a grand coach, behind which were -suspended footmen in livery, with long white staves, rolled down -solemnly and slowly, scattering the hucksters and sedan chairs, as a -hawk disperses a flight of sparrows. - -‘Do you notice, Gabrielle,’ said Percenez, ‘the wheels of the private -carriages are girt with tires made in small pieces, whilst the hired -fiacres have their wheels girt with hoops of iron in one piece? You -would be surprised, little girl, how much envy the jointed tires -excite; for only gentlemen of birth are entitled to use them.’ - -‘Are we going the right way, Monsieur Étienne?’ asked Gabrielle, -timidly, for she was so bewildered by the novelty of her position, -that she thought the streets of Paris a tangle in which none could -fail to lose the way. - -‘Be not afraid, we are bound for the street S. Antoine. I know the -road. I was here only five years ago, and Paris is not a place to -change in a hurry.’ - -Just then they heard a body of voices shouting a song. Gabrielle -looked round, and exclaimed:-- - -‘Oh, Monsieur Étienne, here is a great mob advancing. What is to be -done?’ - -‘Do not be afraid,’ answered the little man; ‘listen, what is it they -are chanting?’ - -The words were audible. As the band approached, every man, woman, and -child joined in the song:-- - - ‘Vive le tiers état de France! - Il aura la prépondérance - Sur le prince, sur le prélat. - Ahi! povera nobilita! - Le plébéien, puits de science, - En lumières, en expérience, - Surpasse le prêtre et magistrat, - Ahi! povera nobilita!’ - -Percenez took off his hat, and waved it with a cheer. - -On they came, a legion, a billow of human beings, bearing before them -an effigy, raised aloft, of a large man with a white waistcoat, a -snuff-coloured coat, a powdered wig, and wearing a decoration, the -_cordon-noir_. The figure rocked upon the shoulders of the men who -carried it, and the bystanders hooted and laughed. Away before the -mob flew the hackney coaches and the wheeled chairs, like the ‘povera -nobilita’ escaping from the rising people. Heads appeared at the -windows; from some casements kerchiefs were fluttered; from most, -faces looked down without expressing special interest or enthusiasm. - -The little brown colporteur caught the sleeve of a man who sold -onions. - -‘What effigy is that?’ he asked. - -‘That is Réveillon,’ was the answer. - -‘And who is he?’ - -‘A paper-maker.’ - -‘Why are the mob incensed against him?’ - -‘He has made a great fortune, and is now bent on reducing the wages -of his workmen.’ - -‘Is that all?’ - -‘And he has received, or is about to receive, a decoration.’ - -Percenez shrugged his shoulders; the onion-seller did the same. - -‘Monsieur Étienne!’ said Gabrielle, timidly; ‘do let us retire before -this crowd. It will swallow us up.’ - -‘You are right, child; we will get out of the way. I have no interest -in this affair.’ - -He drew her back into a large doorway with a wicket gate in it. They -stepped through this wicket into the carriage-way to the yard within. -A violent barking saluted them. At the same moment, a gentleman -emerged upon one of the galleries that surrounded the court, and, -leaning on the balcony, called-- - -‘Gustave!’ - -‘Eh, monsieur?’ exclaimed the porter, starting from his room. - -‘Shut and lock the door, before the mob come up.’ - -Percenez and Gabrielle recognised the voice and face of Berthier. -Before Gustave could fasten the gate, the girl dragged her companion -back into the street; in another moment they were caught in the -advancing wave, and swept onwards towards the Faubourg S. Antoine. - -What followed passed as a dream. Gabrielle saw rough faces on all -sides of her, wild eyes, bushy beards and moustaches. She heard the -roar of hoarse voices chanting; she felt the thrust and crush around -her, and her feet moved rapidly, otherwise she would have fallen and -been trodden down. She clung to Percenez, and the little man held her -hand tightly in his own. It was strange to Gabrielle afterwards to -remember distinctly a host of objects, trivial in themselves, which -impressed themselves on her memory in that march. There was a man -before her with a blue handkerchief tied over his hat and under his -chin. The corner of this kerchief hung down a little on the right, -and Gabrielle would have had it exactly in the middle. The green -coat of a fellow bearing a pole and an extemporized flag attached to -it, had been split up the back and mended with brown thread. In one -place only was the thread black. Gabrielle remembered the exact spot -in the coat where the brown thread ended and the black thread began. -The great man who marched on her left had a bottle of leeches in his -hand, and he was filled with anxiety to preserve the glass from being -broken. How came he among the crowd? Gabrielle wondered, and formed -various conjectures. He was very careful of his leeches, but also -very determined to remain in the midst of the throng. Above the heads -and hats and caps rocked the image of the paper manufacturer, and -Gabrielle saw the arms flap and swing, as it was jerked from side to -side by the bearers. A dead cat whizzed through the air, and struck -the effigy on the head, knocking the three-cornered hat sideways. The -mob shouted and stood still. Then one of the men who preceded them -with a banner laid his pole across the street, and shouted for the -cat. It was tossed over the heads of the people, and he picked it up -and attached it to the neck of the image of Réveillon. Then he reared -his banner again, and the crowd flowed along as before. - -Gabrielle took advantage of the halt to peep into a basket she -carried on her arm. As she raised the lid, a paw was protruded, and a -plaintive miaw announced to her that the yellow cat she had brought -with her was tired of its imprisonment, and alarmed at the noise. - -All at once the pressure on every side became less, the rioters had -moved out of the narrow street into an open space. The girl looked -up. Before her rose dark massive towers,--she could see five at a -glance; one stood at an angle towards the street, drums of towers -crenelated at top, and capped with pepper-boxes for the sentinels. -The walls were pierced at rare intervals with narrow slits. One -window only, of moderate dimensions, was visible, and that was high -up in the angle-tower, oblong, narrow, cut across with a huge stone -transom, and netted over with iron stanchions. The walls were black -with age and smoke. The sunlight that fell upon them did not relieve -their tint, but marked them with shadows black as night. - -Adjoining the street was a high wall, against which were built shops -and taverns. These, however, ceased to encumber the wall near the -gate, which was in the Italian style, low pedimented, and adorned -with the arms of France in a shield. Through slits on either side -moved the great beams of the drawbridge. - -As Gabrielle looked, awe-struck, at this formidable building, she -heard the clank of chains and the creak of a windlass, and slowly the -great arms rose and carried up with them a bridge that shut over the -mouth of the gate, as though there were secrets within which might -not be uttered in the presence of that crowd. - -The mob fell into line before the gate and moat that protected it, -facing it with threatening looks. All at once, with a roar like -that of an advancing tidal wave, there burst from the mob, with one -consent, the curse--‘Down with the Bastille!’ - -Then they faced round again, and rushed upon the factory of -Réveillon, situated under the towers of the terrible fortress. - -‘Up to the lanthorn!’ - -The cry was responded to by a general shout. In another moment a rope -was flung over the chain stretched across the street from which -the lanthorn lighting the street was suspended, and the effigy of -Réveillon dangled in the air. This execution was greeted with yells -of applause; men and women joined hands and danced under the figure. -Some threw sticks and stones at it; these falling on the heads of the -spectators, added to the confusion. At last, a young man, catching -the legs of the image, mounted it, and seated himself astride on the -shoulders. He removed the three-cornered hat and wig and placed them -on his own head, amidst laughter and applause. The strain upon the -lanthorn-chain was, however, too great, and one of the links yielding -at the moment when the youth stood upon Réveillon’s shoulders and -began a dance, he, the effigy, and the lanthorn were precipitated -into the street. What became of the man nobody knew, and nobody -cared; the image was danced upon and trodden into the dirt; the -lanthorn was shivered to pieces, and the glass cut the feet of those -who trampled on it. - -The factory doors were shut and barred; the windows were the same. -The rioters hurled themselves against the great gates, which were -studded with iron, but they could not burst them open. Some shouted -for fire, others for a beam which might be driven against them, and -so force them open. But the banner-bearer in the green coat stitched -with black and brown thread laid his pole against the side of the -house, swarmed up it, axe in hand, and smote lustily at the shutters -of one of the windows. The splinters flew before his strokes, and -soon one of the valves broke from its hinges, and slid down the wall. -Next minute, the green man was inside, waving his hat to the people, -who cheered in response. - -They fell back from the door. Another man crept in at the broken -window, and joined the fellow who had cut his way through the -shutter. The two together unfastened the door, and the mob poured -into Réveillon’s factory. Adjoining was the house of Réveillon. -Its doors were forced open at the same time as the paper-making -establishment. The private entrance to an upper storey of the -workshops from the house was burst by those in the factory, and the -mob crowding in from the street met that breaking in from above. The -besiegers having now taken complete possession, and meeting with no -resistance (for Réveillon had taken refuge in the Bastille, and his -servants had fled,) they spread themselves over the premises from -attic to cellar. The workmen lately employed to make and dye the -paper were foremost in breaking the machinery, and in tapping the -large vats in which the white pulp lay, thus flooding the floors with -what looked like curdled milk. Some descended to the cellars and -drank the wine stored for Réveillon’s table, others drank the dyes, -mistaking them for wine, and rolled in agony in the whey-like fluid -on the ground, spluttering out the crimson and green liquors they had -imbibed. Those who had axes, and those who had armed themselves with -fragments of the machinery, smashed mirrors, tables, pictures, broke -open drawers and destroyed all the movables within reach, and then -flung them through the windows among the crowd below. Among other -objects discovered was a portrait in oils of Réveillon; this was -literally minced up by the rioters, who waxed more furious as they -found material on which to expend their rage. Two men, armed with a -great saw, began to cut through the main rafters of the great room of -the factory. When those who thronged this appartement saw what was -taking place, they were filled with panic, and rushed to the door, or -flung themselves out of the windows, to escape being trampled down by -those behind. Some, entering the rag-store, rent open the bales, and -strewed the tatters about in all directions. One man--it was he with -the leeches--holding his bottle, still unemptied and unbroken, in one -hand, applied a torch to the rag-heaps, and set the store in a blaze; -others fired the warehouse of paper. Flames issued from the cellars -of Réveillon’s house. It was apparent to all the rioters within, -that, unless they made a speedy exit, they would perish in the fire. -Instantly a rush was made to the doors. As they poured through them, -a horizontal flash of light darted into their eyes, followed by a -rattling discharge, and several of the foremost rioters rolled on the -pavement. - -Late in the day, when all the mischief was done, a regiment of -Grenadiers had been ordered to the spot by the commandant of that -quarter of the town, M. de Châtelet. - -The mob replied to the volley by hurling paving-stones, broken pieces -of Réveillon’s furniture, iron fragments of the machinery; in short, -anything ready at hand. - -The man with the bottle of leeches ran out into the middle of the -street, a torch in his right hand, flourished the firebrand over -his head, and called on his companions to follow him against the -soldiers. Two or three started forwards. The military fired again. -The man leaped high into the air, hurled his firebrand into their -midst, and fell his length, shot through the heart; his bottle broke, -and the leeches wriggled over his prostrate form. - -The Grenadiers did not fire again. A rumbling noise was heard, and -along with it the tramp of advancing feet. In another moment the -red uniforms of the Swiss soldiers gleamed out of the shadow of -the street, and a battalion with fixed bayonets charged down the -square in front of the Grenadiers, sweeping the mob before them. -In their rear were a couple of cannon, drawn by horses, which were -rapidly placed in position to clear the streets. But they were not -discharged. The Grenadiers wheeled and charged in the direction -opposite to that taken by the Swiss, and in a few minutes the scene -of the riot was deserted by all save the dead and the dying, and the -inhabitants looking anxiously from their windows. - -Why had not the soldiers been sent earlier? - -On the preceding day the mob had threatened this attack, but had -been prevented from accomplishing their intention by the train of -carriages that encumbered the road through the Faubourg S. Antoine, -the 27th April being the day of the Charenton races. They had -contented themselves with stopping all the carriages, and shouting -through the windows, ‘Long live the Third Estate!’ The carriage -of the Duke of Orleans had been alone excepted. The people had -surrounded it, and cheered vociferously. - -The reason why the destruction of Réveillon’s factory was permitted -by Berthier the Intendant, and Besenval the Commandant of the -Forces in and around Paris, was that the Court had taken alarm at -the threatening attitude of the third estate and the people of the -metropolis, and it hoped to have an excuse for concentrating troops -on Versailles and Paris. - -The elections at Paris were not completed, the Estates-General had -not met, but the crowd of nobles, headed by the Count d’Artois and -the Princes of Condé and Conti, had seen that the King, by calling -together the three estates, and by permitting Necker to double the -representation of the Commons, had created a Frankenstein, which, -if allowed to use its power, would strangle privilege. The Count -d’Artois ruled the Queen, and the Queen ruled the weak, good-natured -King. Marie Antoinette had imbibed fears from the Count, and had -communicated them to the King, and he had begun to feel restless and -anxious about the great assembly, which he had convoked. He could not -prevent its meeting, but he could constrain its utterances, and he -only wanted an excuse for massing around it the army, to force the -third estate to vote money, and to keep silence on the subject of -reform. - -But where are Percenez and Gabrielle? We have lost sight of them in -the crowd. We must return to their side. We left them before the -Bastille, as the mob rolled towards Réveillon’s factory. - -‘Now, my child, hold fast to me,’ said the colporteur; ‘my sister -lives near this,--yonder, under the wall. She is married again; I -always forget her new name,--it is not that of a Christian--at least, -it is not a French name. She has married one of the Swiss guard, a -widower, with a tall, hulking son, and she has got a daughter by her -late-husband, Madeleine. Ah! you will like her,--a nice girl, but -giddy.’ - -The little man worked his way through the crowd till he had brought -Gabrielle before a small house that abutted upon the outer wall of -the fortress. The door was shut and locked, and Percenez knocked -at it in vain; then he beat against the window-glass, but no one -answered, the fact being that his sister, Madame Deschwanden--such -was the name unpronouncable by French lips--and her daughter, -Madeleine Chabry, were upstairs, looking out of the window at the -mob and its doings, and were deaf to the clatter at their own door. -Percenez soon discovered the faces of his sister and niece, and -stepping back to where he could be seen by them, signalled to them, -and shouted their names. - -‘Ah!’ screamed Madame Deschwanden, clasping her hands, then throwing -them round her daughter’s neck, and kissing her, ‘there is my brother -Stephen! Is it possible? Stephen, is that really you? What brought -you here? How are all the good people at Bernay? I am charmed! -Madeleine, I shall die of joy.’ - -‘Will you let us in, good sister?’ - -‘Who is that with you? You must tell me. But wait! I will open the -door myself. Oh ecstasy! oh raptures! Praised be Heaven! Come, -delicious brother, to my bosom.’ - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - - -As soon as Madame Deschwanden had introduced her brother and -Gabrielle to the inside of her house, she fell back, contemplated -Percenez with outspread hands and head on one side, and then -precipitated herself into his arms, exclaiming, ‘Oh ecstasy! oh -raptures! it is he.’ - -Having extricated herself from her brother’s arms almost as rapidly -as she had fallen into them, she said, ‘Come along to the window, and -see the rest of the fun.’ - -She caught Percenez in one hand and Gabrielle in the other, and drew -them upstairs into the room in which she had been sitting before she -descended to admit them. - -‘Étienne, you know my daughter Madeleine, do you not?’ she asked -abruptly; then turning towards the new comer, and from her to her own -daughter, she introduced them: - -‘Madeleine Chabry--Madame Percenez.’ - -‘Pardon me,’ said the colporteur, laughing; ‘little Gabrielle is not -my wife.’ - -‘Ah! a sweetheart.’ - -‘No, nor that either.’ - -‘Well, never mind explanations,’ said Madame Deschwanden; ‘they -are often awkward, and always unnecessary. Of one thing I can be -certain, mademoiselle is charming, and she is heartily welcome,’ she -curtsied towards the girl, and then vivaciously changed the subject. -‘The sport! we must not miss it. Oh! they have got into the factory, -and into the house. Oh! the exquisite, the enchanting things that -are being destroyed. Perfidious heavens! I know there are angelic -wall-papers in that abandoned Réveillon’s shop--I have seen them with -these eyes--and all going to ruin. Saints in Paradise! such papers -with roses and jessamines and Brazilian humming-birds.’ Then, rushing -to the door of the room, she called loudly, ‘Klaus! Klaus!’ - -‘What do you want, mother?’ asked a young man, coming to the door. - -Percenez and Gabrielle turned to look at him. He was a slender youth -of nineteen, with very light hair and large blue eyes. His face was -somewhat broad, genial, and good-natured. He was without his coat, -his shirt-sleeves were rolled up his muscular arms, and the collar -was open at the throat, exposing his breast and a little black -riband, to which was attached a medal resting on it. - -‘What do I want!’ exclaimed Madame Deschwanden, starting from -the window into the middle of the room. ‘How can you ask such a -question, Klaus? Look at these walls. They are my answer.’ - -‘My dear mother, what do you mean?’ - -‘Klaus, you are little better than a fool. The people are sacking the -factory, and there you stand. My faith! it is enough to make angels -swear! And papers--wall-papers, to be had for nothing--for the mere -taking. I saw one myself with roses and jessamine and humming-birds, -and there was another--another for a large room. I saw it with these -eyes--a paper to paper heaven! with a blue sky and an Indian forest -of palms, and an elephant with a tower on its back, and a man holding -a large red umbrella, and a tiger in the attitude of death, receiving -a shot, and foaming with rage, and monkeys up a palm. Mon Dieu! you -must get it me at once, or I shall expire. Klaus, I must and will -have those papers.’ - -‘You absurd little mother,’ said Klaus, stepping into the room and -laughing; ‘do you think I am going to steal Réveillon’s goods for -you, and get myself and you and father and Madeleine into trouble? Be -content.’ - -‘Content!’ exclaimed madame. ‘Who ever heard such a word? _Content!_ -with papers--wall-papers, think of that, going a-begging. I know -that those idiots yonder will burn the factory and save nothing. -Klaus, you seraph, my own jewel!’ she cast herself on his bosom; -‘to please the mamma, though she be a stepmother in name but never -one in sentiment, to please her who studies your fondest whims. You -know very well,’ said she, suddenly recovering herself, ‘that I put -myself out of the way only yesterday for you, that I sacrificed -my own wishes to yours only yesterday. Did I not prepare veal _à -l’oseille_ for your dinner, and you know in your inmost heart that I -preferred it _aux petits pois_?’ Then instantly becoming indignant, -she frowned, stiffened in every joint, became angular, and said, -‘ingrate!’ - -‘My dear, good mother----’ - -‘Now look you here,’ she interrupted; ‘we will sit together on the -sofa, in the corner, and whisper together. Come along.’ She had him -by the arm, and dragged him over to the seat she had indicated, and -pinned him into the angle with her gown, which she spread out before -her, as she subsided beside him. - -‘You know, you rogue, that my wishes are law to you. Do not deny it. -Think of this. I wish, I furiously desire, I burst with impatience -to possess at least one of those papers. Bring enough to cover all -the walls. I see it in your eyes--you are going! it mantles on your -cheek, it quivers on your tongue. Oh ecstasy! oh raptures!’ she -leaped from her sofa, and running to those at the window kissed them -all, one after the other. ‘He has promised. This room will speedily -be a bower of roses and jessamine and Brazilian humming-birds. -Quick, Klaus, mein sohn!’ - -‘He will not go, mother,’ said Madeleine, speaking for the first -time; ‘he is too conscientious.’ - -‘Conscientious!’ echoed Madame Deschwanden, covering her eyes; ‘that -I should have lived to hear the word. Madeleine! he is none of us. -He has that nasty German blood in his veins, and it has made him -conscientious. My aunt’s sister’s son married a Hungarian, and their -child was always afflicted with erysipelas. I attributed it to his -Hungarian blood, poor child! But, Klaus! conquer it, and, oh! get me -the angelic paper--that with the humming-birds, never mind that with -the tiger and the elephant; and so compromise the matter. I declare, -I declare!’ she cried, darting to the window; ‘they are casting the -furniture out of the house--tables, chairs, and breaking them! To -think of the expense! Ah! there goes a mirror. Madeleine, oh! if we -could have secured that glass. It would have filled the space above -the sideboard to perfection. If I could have seen myself in that -mirror, and called it my own, I could have died singing.’ - -Madeleine darted out of the room, and ran downstairs. Next moment her -mother and Percenez saw her in the crowd, pushing her way up to the -house with resolution and success. - -‘That is my own daughter!’ cried the enraptured lady: ‘she is in -everything worthy of me; she is, indeed! She gave me much trouble -as a child, I brought her up at my own breast, and see how she is -ready to repay me. She will bring me a thousand pretty things. Oh, -rapture! As for Klaus, I will not call him “mein sohn” any more. I -will not frame my lips to utter his Swiss jargon. Go to your saints, -boy; cut and carve away at them, and remember to your shame that you -have refused the entreaty of your mother. No, thank goodness! I am -not your mother. I should have overlaid you fifty times had you been -mine; I might have guessed what a sort of conscientious creature you -would have grown up.’ - -‘What is Klaus’s work?’ asked Percenez, to turn the subject. - -‘Work!’ repeated Madame Deschwanden, ‘why, he is a wood-carver; he -makes saints for churches, and crucifixes, and Blessed Virgins, and -all that sort of thing, you know; but it don’t pay now, there’s no -demand. Madeleine began that once, but gave it up. You can’t swim -against the tide.’ - -‘Then what is Madeleine’s work now?’ - -‘Oh! she is flower-girl at Versailles.’ - -Gabrielle looked up. ‘I am a flower-girl,’ she said, timidly. - -‘Oh, indeed!’ answered Madame Deschwanden, quickly running her -eye over her. ‘You are good-looking, you will do, only fish in a -different pool from Madeleine. But oh, ecstasy! here comes Madeleine. -What has she got?’ - -Madeleine was indeed visible pushing her way back from the factory. -She had something in her hands, but what, was not distinguishable. -In another minute she was upstairs and had deposited a beautiful -mother-of-pearl box on the table, a box of considerable size, and of -beautiful workmanship. - -‘What is in it?’ almost shrieked Madame Deschwanden. - -‘My mother, I cannot tell; it is locked, and I have not the key.’ - -Madeleine was nearly out of breath. She leaned against the table, -put her hand against her side, and panted. She looked so pretty, so -bewitching, that Percenez could hardly be angry with her, though -he knew she had done wrong. Her cheeks were flushed, her dancing -black eyes were bright with triumph, and her attitude was easy and -full of grace. She wore her hair loose, curled and falling over -her neck and shoulders. Her bodice was low, exposing throat and -bosom, both exquisitely moulded; her skirt was short, and allowed -her neat little feet and ankles to be seen in all their perfection. -Gabrielle thought she had never seen so pretty a girl. She herself -was a marked contrast to Madeleine. She was not so slender and trim -in her proportions, nor so agile in her movements; but her face was -full of simplicity, and that was the principal charm. Madeleine’s -features were not so regular as those of Gabrielle, but there was far -more animation in her face. The deep hazel eyes of the peasant-girl -were steady, the dark orbs of the Parisian flower-girl sparkled and -danced, without a moment’s constancy. A woman’s character is written -on her brow. That of Gabrielle was smooth, and spoke of purity; the -forehead of Madeleine expressed boldness and assurance. - -‘You are the joy of my life, the loadstar of my existence!’ exclaimed -the mother, embracing her daughter, and then the box, which she -covered with kisses. ‘Oh ecstasy! oh raptures! this is beautiful. -Klaus, lend me one of your tools to force the box open. Perhaps it -contains jewels! Klaus, quick!’ - -The lad placed his hand on the coffer, and said, gravely: ‘I am sorry -to spoil your pleasure, dear mother; but this mother-of-pearl box -must be returned.’ - -‘Returned!’ echoed madame with scorn,--‘returned to the mob, who are -breaking everything. I never heard such nonsense.’ - -‘Not to the mob, but to M. Réveillon.’ - -‘To M. Réveillon! what rubbish you do talk! I shall keep the box and -cherish it. Mon Dieu! would you tear it from me now that I love it, -that I adore it?’ - -‘We shall see, when my father comes,’ said Nicholas Deschwanden. ‘I -have no doubt of his decision.’ - -‘I shall kill myself,’ said Madame Deschwanden, ‘and go to heaven, -where I shall be happy, and you will not be able to rob me of all my -pretty things, and pester me with your conscientious scruples. See -if I do not! or I shall run away with a gentleman who will love me -and gratify all my little innocent whims. See if I do not! And so I -shall leave you and your father to talk your rigmaroles about Alps -and lakes and glaciers, and chant your litanies to Bruder Klaus and -Heiliger Meinrad. See if I don’t!’ - -The discharge of musketry interrupted the flow of her threats, and -the vehement little woman was next moment again at the window. - -‘Oh, how lucky!’ she exclaimed: ‘Madeleine! if you had been ten -minutes later you would have been shot. Count, Étienne; count, -Madeleine; one, two, three, four, oh how many there are down--killed, -poor things! Dear me! I would not have missed the sight for a -thousand livres. Étienne, Madeleine, you Klaus! come, look, they will -fire again. Glorious! Oh, what fun! Ecstasy! raptures!’ - -After the second discharge madame drew attention to the man who had -been shot through the heart--he with the bottle of leeches. - -‘How he leaped! He would have made his fortune on the tight-rope. -Oh! what would I not have given to have danced with him. I am certain -he was a superb dancer. Did any of you ever in your life see a male -cut such a caper? Never; it was magnificent, it was prodigious. More -the pity that he is dead. He will never dance again,’ she said, in -a low and sad voice; but brightened up instantly again with the -remark, ‘Ah well! we must all die sooner or later. Étienne, count the -dead, now that the soldiers have cleared the street and square. My -faith! what a pity it is that dead men are not made serviceable for -the table; and meat is so dear!’ Then suddenly it occurred to the -volatile lady that her brother and his little companion had come to -take up their abode with her--and meat so dear! She attacked Étienne -at once on the point. - -‘My dearest brother, whom I love above everyone--yes, whom I -adore,--I will not deny it, whom I idolize,--tell me, where are you -lodging?’ - -‘I thought you could give Gabrielle and me shelter for awhile,’ -answered Percenez. ‘I am sure Madeleine will share her bed with -Gabrielle, my little ward, and I can litter myself a mattress of -straw anywhere.’ - -‘And you have not dined yet?’ asked Madame Deschwanden. - -‘No; we have not had time to think of dinner.’ - -‘But you are hungry?’ - -‘Certainly.’ - -‘And thirsty?’ - -‘Very thirsty, I can assure you.’ - -Madame Deschwanden caught both his hands in hers, and shook them -enthusiastically. - -‘My own best-beloved brother! I talk of you all day long, do I not, -Madeleine? You, too, Klaus, can bear me witness. I am rejoiced to -hear that you are hungry and thirsty. And you like thoroughly good -dinners?’ - -‘Most assuredly, when I can get them.’ - -‘And you too?’ she looked at Gabrielle, who whispered an affirmative. - -‘And you enjoy a really good bottle of wine?’ - -‘Trust me,’ answered Stephen. - -‘Then,’ said Madame Deschwanden, hugging her brother to her heart, -‘the best of everything is yours, at the sign of the Boot, two doors -off, on the right hand, and table-d’hôte is in half an hour. Terms -very moderate.’ - -‘But, my sister!’ said the little colporteur, drawing out of her -embrace, and regarding her with a sly look, ‘I have come to take up -my residence with you.’ - -‘And dine at the Boot,’ put in the lady. ‘I can confidently recommend -the table there. It is largely patronized by the most discerning -palates.’ - -‘But, my sister, I am quite resolved to take my meals with you.’ - -‘You cannot, indeed!’ exclaimed madame; ‘my cookery is vile, it is -baser than dirt. I am an abject cook.’ - -‘Oh, Josephine, neither Gabrielle André nor I are particular.’ - -‘André!’ exclaimed Madame Deschwanden. ‘Do you tell me the name of -this seraph is André? Is she the daughter of Matthias André of Les -Hirondelles?’ - -‘To be sure she is.’ - -Madame now cast herself on the neck of the peasant girl, sobbed -loudly, and wept copiously. - -‘To think it is you! the daughter of Matthias, who adored me, when I -was your age. Yes, child; your father when a young man was my most -devoted admirer; but, ah, bah! every one admired me then, but he -above them all. And if I had accepted him as my husband--to think -_you_ might then have been my daughter. Poor Matthias! how is he?’ - -Percenez checked her with a look and shake of the head. - -‘Well, well! we all die, more’s the pity; and your mother--dead too! -Ah well! every sentence ends in a full stop, and so does the long -rigmarole of life. Then in pity’s sake let life be a Jubilate and not -a De Profundis.’ - -‘About meals?’ said Percenez. His sister’s countenance fell at once, -but she rapidly recovered. - -‘Exactly. You will hear all the news at the Boot. Superb place -for gossip. Oh you men, you men! you charge us women with -tittle-tattling, and when you get together--’ she wagged her finger -at him and laughed. ‘Now, be quick, Étienne! my brother, and you, my -angel, Mademoiselle André, and get your dinners over quick, and come -here and tell us the news, and we shall have a charming evening.’ - -‘My sister,’ said Percenez, ‘you must really listen to my proposal. -I may be in Paris for weeks--perhaps months. I intend to pursue -my business of selling newspapers and pamphlets here in Paris for -a while, that is, during the session of the States-General, and I -cannot think of troubling you with my presence as a guest. Will you -let us lodge with you? I will pay you so much a week for my bed and -board, and Gabrielle shall do the same. She has a mission to perform -in Paris, and though I am not sanguine of her success, nevertheless -she must make an attempt. She can join Madeleine in selling flowers, -and I will guarantee that you are no loser.’ - -‘My own most cherished brother!’ exclaimed Madame Deschwanden; ‘do -not think me so mercenary as all that. Gladly do I urge you to stay -here, and join us at our frugal table. You are welcome to every scrap -of food in the larder, and to every bed in the house. Far be it from -me to be mercenary. I hate the word--I scorn to be thought it. _I_ -care for money! No one has as yet hinted such a thing to me! No; you -are welcome--welcome to a sister’s hospitality. The terms, by the -way, you did not mention,’ she said, in a lower voice; ‘we have taken -in boarders at----’ - -She was interrupted by the entrance of Corporal Deschwanden, her -husband, a tall, grave soldier, with a face as corrugated and brown -as that of Percenez; his moustaches and the hair of the head were -iron grey, his eyes large and blue, like his son’s, and lighted with -the same expression of frank simplicity. - -The corporal saluted Percenez and Gabrielle, as his wife introduced -them with many flourishes of the arms and flowers of eloquence. - -‘You are heartily welcome, sir,’ said the soldier in broken French; -‘and you, fraulein, the same.’ - -Then seating himself at the table he rapped the board with his -knuckles and said, ‘Dinner!’ - -Madame Deschwanden and her daughter speedily served a cold repast in -the lower room, the mother making many apologies for having nothing -hot to offer, as she had been distracted by the Réveillon riot, -and now her head was racked with pain, and she prayed Heaven would -speedily terminate her sufferings with death. - -The old soldier during the meal looked over several times at -Gabrielle in a kindly manner, and treated her with courtesy. The girl -raised her timid eyes to his, and saw them beaming with benevolence. -A frightened smile fluttered to her lips, and he smiled back at her. - -‘You have come a long way,’ he said; ‘and you must be tired, poor -child! Ah! if you had our mountains to climb’--he looked at his son -Nicholas--‘they would tire your little feet. Do you remember the -scramble we had up the Rhigi, Klaus? And the lake--the deep blue -lake--Ach es war herrlich! And the clouds brushing across the silver -Roth and Engelberger hörner.’ The old man rose, brushed up his hair -on either side of his ears; his blue eyes flashed, and he sat down -again. - -‘Now this is against all rule,’ said Madame Deschwanden; ‘here we are -back at that pottering little Switzerland, and the mountains, and the -lake, before dinner is over; we shall have the glaciers next, and the -chamois, and the cowbells, and the gentians, and of course wind up -with the Bruder Klaus.’ - -‘Relaxation,’ said the soldier, rapping the table with his knuckles, -after consulting his watch. ‘Meal-time up; relaxation begins.’ - -‘Then you are going to have the lakes and the cowbells and the Bruder -Klaus!’ said Madame Deschwanden. - -‘It is their time,’ answered the corporal. - -‘Then Madeleine and I are off.’ - -‘I will rap for prayers,’ said the corporal. - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - - -Madeleine and her mother retired to the window, and beckoned -Gabrielle to join them. - -The corporal and the colporteur lit their pipes, and Klaus with his -knife began to cut a head out of a bit of box-wood he extracted from -his pocket. - -‘So, Master Percenez, you have come to witness the great struggle?’ -said the soldier, fixing his blue eyes on the little man. - -‘Yes, corporal, I have. I am interested in it,--but who is not? It -seems to me that we must fight now, or give in for ever.’ - -‘A fight there will be,’ said the soldier; ‘a fight of tongues and -hard words. Tongues for swords, hard words for bullets. Did you -ever hear how we managed to gain our liberty in my country? I tell -you that was not with speeches, but with blows. I doubt if your -States-General will do much. I do not think much of talking, I like -action.’ - -‘And are you free in Switzerland?’ asked Percenez. - -‘Yes,’ answered Deschwanden, ‘we are free. We gained our liberty -by our swords. Our brave land was subject to the despotic rule of -the Duke of Austria, and we were reduced to much the same condition -as you French are now. We paid taxes which were exorbitant, we were -crushed by the privileged classes, and robbed of the just reward of -our toil. Then Arnold of Melchthal, Werner Stauffacher, and Walter -Fürst formed the resolution to resist, and lead the people to revolt, -and so they threw off the yoke and became free.’ - -‘Father,’ said Nicholas, ‘do you remember the inn of the Confederates -on the lake, with their figures painted on the white wall, five times -the size of life?’ - -‘Ah so!’ exclaimed the corporal; ‘have I not drunk on the balcony -of that same inn over against Grütli? Have I not seen the three -fountains that bubbled up where the Confederates stood and joined -hands and swore to liberate their country from the oppression of -their Austrian governors, to be faithful to each other, and to be -righteous in executing their judgments on the tyrants?’ - -The old man brushed up the hair on either side of his head, rose to -his feet, filled his tumbler with wine, and waving it above his head, -exclaimed joyously: - -‘Here is to the memory of Arnold of Melchthal, Werner Stauffacher, -and Walter Fürst!’ - -Percenez and young Nicholas drank, standing. - -‘Did you ever hear,’ continued the soldier, reseating himself, ‘how -William Tell refused to bow to the ducal cap set up on a pole, the -badge of servitude, and how the governor--his name was Gessler--bade -the valiant archer shoot an apple off his son’s head?’ - -‘I have heard the story,’ said the colporteur. - -‘And I have seen the place,’ cried Nicholas; ‘have I not, father?’ - -‘We have both seen the very spot where the glorious William stood, -and where grew the tree against which the lad was placed. The square -is no more. Houses have invaded it, so that now Tell could not send -an arrow from his standing-point to the site of the tree. Ah! he -was a great liberator of his country, was Tell. Fill your glasses, -friends! To William Tell!’ He rubbed up his hair, rose to his feet, -and drained his glass again. - -‘Have you ever heard how nearly Swiss freedom was lost, by -treachery and gold? You must know that the Confederate States had -vanquished Charles of Burgundy in three great battles, and had -pillaged his camp, which was so full of booty that gold circulated -among the people like copper. The cantons of Uri, of Schwytz, and -Unterwalden--that latter is mine--desired peace, and those of -Lucerne, and Berne, and Zurich desired to extend the Confederacy; -so great quarrels arose, and soon that union which was the source -of their strength promised to be dissolved, and civil war to break -out, and ruin Swiss independence. The Confederates were assembled for -consultation, for the last time, at Stanz. The animosity of party, -however, was so great, that after three sessions of angry debates, -the members rose with agitated countenances, and separated without -taking leave of one another, to meet again, perhaps, only in the -conflict of civil war. That which neither the power of Austria, nor -the audacious might of Charles of Burgundy, had ever been able to -accomplish, my people were themselves in danger of bringing about by -these internal dissensions; and the liberty and happiness of their -country stood in the most imminent peril.’ - -‘My faith!’ cried Madame Deschwanden, shrugging her shoulders, and -throwing into her face, as she sat in the window, an expression of -disgust and contempt, ‘they are getting upon the Bruder Klaus.’ - -‘Yes, wife,’ said the soldier, turning to her, and brushing up his -hair, ‘glorious Bruder Klaus! Here’s to his---- but no, you shall -hear the story first. So! up the face of a precipice in the Melchthal -lived a hermit, Nicholas von der Flue. And here I may add that our -captain is called by the same name. Well, then, this hermit, whom -we call Brother Nicholas, or, for short, Brother Klaus, left his -cell at the moment of danger, and sending a messenger before him to -bid the deputies await his arrival, he walked all the way to Stanz -without resting, and entered the town-hall, where the assembly -sat. He wore his simple dark-coloured dress, which descended to his -feet; he carried his chaplet in one hand, and grasped his staff in -the other; he was, as usual, barefoot and bare-headed; and his long -hair, a little touched by the snows of age, fell upon his shoulders. -When the delegates saw him enter, they rose out of respect, and God -gave him such grace that his words restored unanimity, and in an hour -all difficulties were smoothed away; the land was preserved from -civil war, and from falling again,--as in that case it must have -fallen,--under the power of Burgundy or Austria.’ - -‘I have seen the very coat Bruder Klaus wore,’ said Nicholas, his -large blue eyes full of pride and joy. - -‘Yes,’ said the soldier, triumphantly; ‘we have both seen his habit; -we have seen his body, too, at Sachseln. Fill your glasses!’ he -rubbed up his hair, first over his ears and then above his forehead -and at the back of the head, and starting to his feet, pledged Bruder -Klaus of pious memory. Percenez and Nicholas joined enthusiastically. - -‘See!’ said the latter, taking his black ribbon from his neck, and -extending the medal to Percenez; ‘on that coin is a representation of -the blessed hermit; that piece has been laid on his shrine, and has -been blessed by the priest of Sachseln.’ - -‘Fetch him the statue of the glorious brother!’ cried the corporal -to his son; ‘let him see what blessed Nicholas really was like.’ - -The lad instantly dived out of the room, down a passage, and -presently reappeared with a wooden figure of the hermit, carved by -himself. The face was exquisitely wrought, and the hands delicately -finished. The whole was painted, but not coarsely. - -‘He was very pale in the face, almost deadly white, and dark about -the eyes,’ said the soldier. ‘We have his portrait, taken during his -life, in the town-hall of Sarnen----’ all at once the corporal’s -eyes rested on his watch. - -‘Herr Je!’ he exclaimed; ‘we have exceeded our time by three -minutes.’ He rapped with his knuckles on the table, and shouted the -order: - -‘Music!’ - -Instantly his son Nicholas produced a flute, and warbled on it a -well-known Swiss air. The corporal folded his hands on his breast, -threw back his head, fixed his eyes on the scrap of blue sky visible -above the roofs of the houses opposite, and began to sing, ‘Herz, -mein Herz warum so traurig’--of which we venture to give an English -rendering: - - ‘Heart, my heart! why art thou weary, - Why to grief and tears a prey? - Foreign lands are bright and cheery; - Heart, my heart, what ails thee, say? - - ‘That which ails me past appeasing! - I am lost, a stranger here; - What though foreign lands be pleasing, - Home, sweet home, alone is dear. - - ‘Were I now to home returning, - Oh, how swiftly would I fly! - Home to father, home to mother, - Home to native rocks and sky! - - ‘Through the fragrant pine-boughs bending - I should see the glacier shine, - See the nimble goats ascending - Gentian-dappled slopes in line; - - ‘See the cattle, hear the tinkle - Of the merry clashing bells, - See white sheep the pastures sprinkle - In the verdant dewy dells. - - ‘I should climb the rugged gorges - To the azure Alpine lake, - Where the snowy peak discharges - Torrents, that the silence break. - - ‘I should see the old brown houses, - At the doors, in every place, - Neighbours sitting, children playing, - Greetings in each honest face. - - ‘Oh my youth! to thee returning, - Oft I ask, why did I roam? - Oh my heart! my heart is burning - At the memory of Home. - - ‘Heart, my heart! in weary sadness - Breaking, far from fatherland, - Restless, yearning, void of gladness, - Till once more at home I stand.’ - -As the old man sang, the tears filled his large eyes, and slowly -trickled down his weather-beaten cheeks. He sat for some while in -silence and motionless, absorbed in memory. Now and then a smile -played over his rugged features. - -‘I remember walking from Beckenreid to Seelisberg one spring -evening,’ he said, speaking to himself; ‘the rocks were covered with -wild pinks. We never see wild pinks here. And the thyme was fragrant, -multitudes of bees swarmed humming about it. I remember, because, -when tired, I sat on the thyme, and listened to their buzz. Down -below lay the deep blue green lake reflecting the mountains, still -as glass. The bell of Gersau was chiming. The red roofs were so -pretty under the brown rocks of the Scheideck and Hochflue. A little -farther on, upon a mass of fallen rock in the water, in the midst of -a feathery tuft of birch, stood the chapel of Kindlismord.’ He paused -and smiled, and then a great tear dropped from his cheek to his -breast. ‘I saw a foaming torrent rush through the forest and dart -over a ledge and disappear. The golden clouds overhead were reflected -in the lake. I picked a bunch of blue salvias and a tiger-lily.’ He -drew a heavy sigh, brushed his hair down with his hands, shook his -head, looked at his watch, and rapped the table with the order: - -‘Prayers!’ - -Immediately all rose, and the old soldier led the way down the -passage into Klaus’s workshop. - -Klaus, as has already been said, carved statues for churches. His -room was full of figures, some finished and coloured, others half -done; some only sketched out of the block. On a shelf stood a row of -little saints; but the majority were from three to five feet high. -In the corner was a huge S. Christopher, carrying the infant Saviour -on his shoulder, and leaning on a rugged staff. His work-table was -strewn with tools and shavings and chips of wood, and the floor was -encumbered with blocks of oak and box, wood shavings and sawdust. In -a niche in the side of the room, on a pedestal, stood a life-sized -figure of the Swiss hermit, the patron saint of the Deschwandens, -with a pendent lamp before it. A crucifix of ebony and boxwood stood -before the little window which lighted the room, and was situated -immediately above his work-table. The corporal knelt down, followed -by his family and the guests, and recited the usual evening prayers -in a firm voice, ending with the Litany of the Saints. - -After the last response, the corporal made a pause, and rapped with -his knuckles against the bench in front of him, whereupon Madame -Deschwanden rose with a sniff and a great rustle of her garments, and -sailed out of the room, leaning on Madeleine. - -‘You had better come, too,’ she said to Percenez and Gabrielle; ‘that -father and son there have not done yet. They have their blessed Swiss -saints to invoke in their barbarous jargon. But, as I do not approve -either of their tongue or of their Klauses and Meinrads, Madeleine -and I always leave them to themselves.’ - -The colporteur and his little ward rose, but not without hesitation, -for the corporal and his son remained kneeling as stiff as any of the -wooden figures surrounding them, with hands joined and eyes directed -immediately in front of them. - -‘Oh my faith!’ exclaimed Madame Deschwanden, as she reached the -sitting-room; ‘to think that I have been reduced to this,--to become -the spouse of a clockwork-man made of wood. Heavens! Étienne, the -corporal does everything to the minute; dresses, washes, eats, prays, -dreams of his precious Schweizerland, all by the watch, and I--poor -I--I am in despair. This does not suit me at all.’ - -Percenez attempted to console his sister, and she rattled on with -her story of grievance, whilst Gabrielle, musing and not speaking, -heard the solemn voice of the old soldier sounding from the workshop: - -‘Heiliger Meinrad!’ - -And Nicholas’s response: ‘Bitte für uns[2].’ - -‘Heiliger Gallus!’ - -‘Bitte für uns.’ - -‘Heiliger Beatus!’ - -‘Bitte für uns.’ - -‘Heiliger Moritz und deine Gefährte!’ - -‘Bittet für uns.’ - -‘Heiliger Bonifacius!’ - -‘Bitte für uns.’ - -‘Heilige Verena!’ - -‘Bitte für uns.’ - -‘Heiliger Bruder Klaus!’ - -‘Bitte für uns.’ - -Shortly after, the corporal and his son returned to the room. -Gabrielle was sitting by herself in the dusk near the door--in fact, -in that corner of the sofa into which Madame Deschwanden had driven -Nicholas, when she wanted the paper with roses and jessamine and -Brazilian humming-birds. - -The young man walked towards her somewhat awkwardly, and leaning on -the arm of the sofa with his back to the window, said: - -‘You must be puzzled at our relationship in this house.’ - -‘I do not quite understand the relationship, I own,’ answered -Gabrielle, shyly. - -‘I am not the son of madame,’ said he, nodding his head in the -direction of Percenez’s sister, ‘nor is Madeleine my own sister. My -father married again, after my mother’s death, and Madame Chabry was -a widow with an only daughter. Do you understand now?’ - -‘Yes, thank you.’ - -‘I should like to hear your opinion about the box,’ he continued. ‘Do -you think we have any right to keep it? Mamma is set upon it, so is -Madeleine, but the question is, have they any right to it?’ - -Gabrielle looked at her shawl, and plucked at the fringe. - -‘You do not like to answer,’ said Klaus. - -‘I think the box ought to be returned,’ she said, timidly, and in a -low, faltering voice. - -A smile beamed on the lad’s broad face. He nodded at her in a -friendly, approving manner, and said, ‘So my father says. I consulted -him in the other room. And now the difficulty is to get the box away. -Observe my father.’ - -Gabrielle looked towards the corporal; he was standing near the -window, with his back to the table on which the mother-of-pearl -coffer lay, and was engaged in animated conversation with Percenez, -Madame, and Madeleine. Gabrielle observed that the old soldier made -a point of addressing his wife and daughter-in-law in turn, and then -directing an observation to Percenez. From sentences she caught, -the girl ascertained that the corporal was attacking the French -character, and was especially caustic on the subject of French women. -His wife was at once in a blaze, and Madeleine caught fire. Percenez -took up cudgels on behalf of his countrywomen, but the soldier was -not to be beaten by the three combined. As soon as the conversation -or argument gave symptoms of flagging, he produced from his armoury -some peculiarly pungent remark, which he cast as a bomb-shell among -them, and which at once aroused a clatter of tongues. - -‘There’s a story told in my country of a man who married a -Frenchwoman,’ said the soldier, fixing his wife with his eye. - -‘I will not listen to your stories,’ said Madame Deschwanden; ‘they -are bad, wicked tales. Stop your ears, Percenez, as I stop mine. -Madeleine, don’t listen to him. A Frenchman uses his tongue like a -feather, but a German or Swiss knocks you down with it like a club.’ - -‘There is a story in my country,’ pursued the corporal, turning -composedly towards the colporteur, ‘of a Swiss farmer who married a -French mademoiselle.’ - -‘Ah! I pity her, poor thing, I do,’ said Madame Deschwanden, -suddenly removing her hand from her ear and fluttering it in her -husband’s face; ‘she doubtless thought him flesh and blood, and only -too late found him out to be a Jacquemart--a wooden doll worked by -springs.’ - -‘So!’ continued the soldier, calmly, ‘the man died----’ - -‘Of dry rot,’ interpolated madame; ‘there was a maggot in his head.’ - -‘He died,’ the soldier pursued; ‘and then, having left the earth, he -presented himself at the gates of Paradise.’ - -‘Ah!’ exclaimed madame; ‘and he found that it was peopled with Bruder -Klauses--like the wooden saints your boy carves.’ - -‘Now you know, Percenez, my good friend, that there is a preliminary -stage souls have to pass through before they can enter the realm of -the blessed; that stage is called purgatory. So! S. Peter opened -the door to the Swiss Bauer and said, “You cannot come in. You have -not been in purgatory!” “No,” answered the farmer, “but I have -spent ten years married to a French wife.” “Then step in,” said the -door-keeper, “you have endured purgatory in life.”’ - -‘I will not listen to you,’ screamed Madame Deschwanden, resolutely -facing the window and presenting her back to her husband. - -Madeleine followed suit, and was immediately engrossed in what was -taking place in the street. - -‘You Frenchwomen!’ called the corporal, tauntingly, as he stepped -backwards with his hands behind him. The mother and daughter turned -abruptly, and facing him exclaimed together, ‘We glory in the title;’ -then reverted to their contemplation of the street. - -‘Now,’ said Nicholas, in a low voice, ‘observe my father attentively; -he is a skilful general.’ - -Corporal Deschwanden retreated leisurely backwards, as though -retiring from the presence of royalty, till he reached the table, -when his hands felt for the casket, and took it up; then, still -fronting the window and the women at it, he sidled towards the door, -keeping the mother-of-pearl box carefully out of sight. - -Having reached the door, he asked Percenez if he would accompany him -for a stroll. The colporteur gladly consented, and followed him out -of the room. - -The mother and daughter still maintained their position at the open -window, till suddenly the former threw up her hands with a cry of -dismay, sprang abruptly into the middle of the room, and shrieked -out, ‘I am betrayed! the thief! the rogue! the malicious one! He -has carried off the mother-of-pearl box. I saw it under his arm. -He showed it to Étienne, and laughed as he crossed the street. -Madeleine! what shall we do? We will take poison, and die in one -another’s arms!’ Then, after a volley of shrieks, she fell on her -daughter’s neck and deluged her with tears. - -‘I think that was a skilfully-executed manœuvre of my father’s,’ said -Nicholas, aside. - -Gabrielle smiled; but then, observing how distressed was her hostess, -she said, in a low voice, ‘I am afraid your mother is heart-broken -over her loss.’ - -‘Yes, for half an hour, and then she will have forgotten all about -it. You will see, when my father returns, it will be with a locket, -or a brooch, or a ribbon, and then she will be all “ecstasy and -raptures,” and will kiss him on both cheeks, and pronounce him the -best of husbands.’ - -Gabrielle looked up into his face with an expression of delight in -her eyes and on her lips. - -The young man’s eyes rested on her countenance with pleasure. After a -moment’s hesitation, he said: - -‘Mademoiselle Gabrielle, may I ask you one little favour? I know I -have not deserved it by anything I have done, but you will confer a -debt of gratitude on my father and on me if you will accede to my -request.’ - -‘What is it?’ asked the girl, opening her eyes very wide, and -wondering very greatly what he meant. - -‘Will you promise me not to take part with my mother and Madeleine -against the Swiss? My father laughs, and I laugh, but what they say -cuts us,--sometimes deeply. We are proud of our country;’ he brushed -his hair from his brow and straightened himself, his attitude and -action a reproduction of his father. ‘We have reason to be proud of -it, and we do not like to be joked about it, and to hear slurs cast -on it. Oh! Mademoiselle Gabrielle, I do not know why I ask this of -you, but I should feel it dreadfully if you joined them against us, -and so, too, would my father.’ - -‘I promise with all my heart.’ - -‘That is delightful!’ exclaimed Nicholas, clapping his hands, whilst -a joyous flush overspread his open countenance; ‘and then, there -is something more.’ His face grew solemn at once. ‘Do not speak -against, or make a joke about, Bruder Klaus. You do not know what a -man that was, what a saint he is, what he did for his country, what -a miraculous life he led, what wonders are wrought yet at his tomb. -You should have seen his portrait--the grave white face, and the -eyes reddened with weeping, and the sunken cheeks! Oh, Mademoiselle -Gabrielle, you may be sure that, among the greatest of saints, our -Bruder Klaus----’ - -‘What!’ exclaimed Madame Deschwanden, looking up from her daughter’s -shoulder, as she caught the word; ‘if that boy is not dinning Bruder -Klaus into Mademoiselle André’s ear already. Was ever a woman so -overwhelmed, so haunted as I am with these ragged old Swiss hermits? -I have the nightmare, and dream that Bruder Klaus is dancing on my -breast. I look out of the window in the dark, and see Bruder Klaus -jabbering in the gloom, and pointing at me with his stick. I wish -to goodness the precious Bruder had committed a mortal sin, and his -sanctity had gone to the dogs, I do!’ - -Nicholas drew nearer to Gabrielle, as though shrinking from his -stepmother’s expressions as impious, and willing to screen the girl -from their pernicious influence. He stooped towards her, with his -great blue eyes fastened on her with intensity of earnestness, as he -whispered: - -‘You will promise me that? Oh! please do, dear mademoiselle!’ - -‘Certainly I will,’ answered Gabrielle, frankly looking at him. - -He caught her hand and kissed it, and then precipitately left the -room. - - - END OF VOL. I. - - - - - FOOTNOTES: - -[1] The window is described from one existing in the north aisle of -the church of S. Foy, at Conches, the stained glass in which church -is perhaps the finest in Normandy. - -[2] Holy Meinrad, &c. Pray for us. - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - - The Table of Contents at the beginning of the book was created by - the transcriber. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation such as “boxwood”/“box-wood” have - been maintained. - - Minor punctuation and spelling errors have been silently corrected - and, except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the - text, especially in dialogue, and inconsistent or archaic usage, - have been retained. - - Page 56: “epecially noticeable when a band of girls” changed to - “especially noticeable when a band of girls”. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN EXITU ISRAEL, VOLUME 1 (OF 2) *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |