Cobble r of Nimes Taylor THE COBBLER OF MIMES BY M. IMLAY TAYLOR On the Red Staircase. i2mo . . . $1.25 An Imperial Lover. i2mo .... 1.25 A Yankee Volunteer. i2mo . . . 1.25 The House of the Wizard. i2mo . 1.25 The Cardinal's Musketeer. i2mo . 1.25 The Cobbler of Nimes. i2mo . . 1.25 THE COBBLER OF NIMES BY M. IMLAY TAYLOR CHICAGO A. C. McCLURG & CO. 1900 COPYRIGHT BY A. C. MCCLURG & Co. A.D. IQOO All rights reserved CONTENTS. CHAPTER PACK I. THE BODY OF A DAMNED PERSON . . 7 II. THE SHOP OF Two SHOES . . . . , 20 III. MADEMOISELLE'S SLIPPERS 31 IV. ROSALINE 44 V. THE COBBLER'S GUEST 52 VI. A MILITARY SUITOR 64 VII. A STRING OF TROUT 75 VIII. BABET VISITS THE COBBLER .... 86 IX. CHARLOT BURNS A CANDLE .... 97 X. A DANGEROUS SUIT 106 XI. FRANCOIS MAKES A PLEDGE .... 119 XII. THE FINGER OF FATE 130 XIII. THE BATTLE HYMN 140 XIV. "AND ALL FOR LOVE" 151 XV. THE TEMPTATION OF LE Bossu . . . 164 XVI. A BRIEF DELAY 178 XVII. M. DE BAUDRI'S TERMS 189 XVIII. ROSALINE'S HUMBLE FRIENDS . . . 203 2133114 v i CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE XIX. "MORTIS PORTIS FRACTIS!" .... 213 XX. THE COBBLER'S FAITH 225 XXI. IN THE WOODS OF ST. CYR .... 237 XXII. THE OLD WINDMILL 249 XXIII. THE COBBLER'S BARGAIN 260 XXIV. "O DEATH, WHERE Is THY STING?". 269 XXV. THE SHIP AT SEA 275 The Cobbler of Nimes CHAPTER I THE BODY OF A DAMNED PERSON IT was the month of June, 1703, and about noontide on the last day of the week. The fair in the market-place at Nfmes was therefore at its height. A juggler was swallowing a sword in the midst of an admiring circle. Mademoi- selle H&o'fse, the danseuse, was walking the tight-rope near at hand, and the pick-pockets were plying their trade profitably on the out- skirts of the throng. There was a dancing bear, and beyond him a rival attraction a monkey in scarlet breeches, with a blouse or camisole over them. The little creature's antics were hailed with shouts of derisive laughter and cries of " Camisard ! " " Barbet ! " " Huguenot ! " the monkey's little blouse being an unmistak- 8 THE COBBLER OF N?MES able caricature of the dress of the Camisards. It therefore behooved the wise to laugh, and they did, and that loudly, though many a heart was in secret sympathy with the Hugue- not rebels of the Ce" vennes ; but were they not in Nimes? And the Intendant Baville was there, and the dragoons of King Louis XIV. ; so it was that the monkey gathered many a half-crown, and sous and deniers in profusion, in his little cap, and carried them chattering to the showman. It was a motley throng : broad, red-faced market-women, old crones with bearded lip and toothless gums, little gamins of the market with prematurely aged faces, countrymen who glanced askance at the monkey while they laughed, pretty peasant girls who had sold their eggs and their poultry, and come to spend their newly acquired riches in ribbons and trinkets, and to have their for- tunes told by the old gypsy in the yellow pavilion. Some strolling musicians were play- ing a popular air, two drunken men were fight- ing, and a busy tradesman was selling his wares near the entrance of a tent that was manifestly the centre of attraction. It was of white can- THE BODY OF A DAMNED PERSON 9 vas and decorated with numerous images of the devil, a black figure with horns, hoofs, and tail, engaged in casting another person into the flames ; the whole being more startling than artistic. At the door of this tent was a man mounted on a barrel, and dressed fantastically in black, with a repetition of the devils and flames, in red and yellow, around the edge of his long gown, which flapped about a pair of thin legs, set squarely in the centre of two long, schooner-shaped feet. This person, whose face was gross and dull rather than malicious, kept calling his invitation and bowing low as each new visitor dropped a half-crown into the box fastened on the front of the barrel beneath his feet. "Messieurs et mesdames ! " he cried, "only a half-crown to see the body of a damned person ! " He raised his voice almost to a scream, to be heard in the babel of tongues ; he clapped his hands to attract notice ; he swayed to and fro on his barrel. " Here is the body of a damned person ! " he shouted. " Dieu ! what an opportunity for the 10 THE COBBLER OF NfMES good of your soul! Too much, madame?" he said to a fishwife who grumbled at the price, "too much! Tis a chance in a thousand! The body came from the Tour de Constance ! Madame will have her money's worth." Madame went in, licking her lips like a wolf. The curtain of the tent swung to behind her. A peasant lad followed her, hesitating too over the half-crown, but then the spectacle was worth . money. A soldier followed, then a butcher, and two stupid-looking servant-girls, with fright- ened faces, but still eager to see. Then there was a pause, and the showman began to shout once more ; he had need to, for the bear was performing with unusual vivacity, and the danseuse displayed her pretty legs as she tripped on the rope. " Half a crown, messieurs et mesdames," cried the man of the black robe ; " half a crown to see a dead and damned Huguenot ! " " Too much, monsieur ! " said a voice behind him. He started and looked back into the face of a little hunchbacked man who had been watch- ing him curiously. THE BODY OF A DAMNED PERSON II " You are not a good Catholic, M. le Bossu ! " replied the showman, mocking, for the hunch- back wore a poor suit of brown and a frayed hat. " I am a good Catholic," he replied calmly, " but your price is high 't is only a dead Huguenot." " Dame ! but live ones are too plenty," re- torted the other, with a loud laugh. " What are you to complain?" he added gayly, " the hunchback ! le bossu ! " " Le Bossu yes," replied the hunchback, calmly ; " that is what men call me." Again the showman mocked him, doffing his cap and grinning. "Your Excellency's name?" he demanded. The hunchback took no notice of him ; he had his hand in his wallet feeling for a half- crown ; he had determined to see the damned person. But the other got his answer ; a little gamin piped up on the edge of the crowd, pointing his finger at the cripple. " 'T is only Chariot," he said, " the shoemaker of the Rue St. Antoine." The showman laughed again. 12 THE COBBLER OF NfMES " Enter, Maitre Savetier ! " he said derisively, " and see the dead Huguenot. Dame ! but I believe he is one himself," he added, under his breath, peering sharply at the pale face of le Bossu as he entered the tent. But a minute later the hunchback was for- gotten and the showman was screaming again. " This way, mesdames ! This way, to see a damned person ! Half a crown ! half a crown ! " Within, the tent was lighted solely by a small aperture at the top, and the effect was rather of a murky twilight than of broad noonday. It was draped with cheap red cloth, and in the centre directly under the opening in the top was a rough bier constructed of bare boards, and on this lay a body only partially covered with a piece of coarse serge ; images of the devil cut out of black stuff were sewed on the corners of this wretched pall. The visitors, the sight-seers, who had paid their half-crowns to enjoy this gruesome spec- tacle, moved slowly past it, making the circuit of the tent and finally passing out at the door by which they had entered. When the hunch- THE BODY OF A DAMNED PERSON 13 back came in, he paused long enough to be- come accustomed to the swift transition from sunlight to shadow, and then he too proceeded to join the circle around the corpse. There were many comments made, the sight affected the spectators differently. The two servant- girls clung together, whispering hysterical confidences; the peasant youth stared open- mouthed, fright showing plainly in his eyes ; the soldier looked down with brutal indifference ; the old fishwife showed satisfaction, her wolf mouth was slightly opened by a grin that dis- played three long yellow teeth all she pos- sessed ; a red handkerchief was tied around her head and from below it hung her long gray locks. Her short petticoat and bodice revealed a withered, lean form, and her fingers were like talons. She feasted her eyes on the dead face, and then she squinted across the body at the man who stood like a statue opposite. He was young, with a sad, dark countenance and was poorly, even shabbily dressed. But it was none of these things that the old crone noted, it was the expression of grief and horror that seemed frozen on his features. He did not 14 THE COBBLER OF N$MES see her, he did not see the others passing by him with more than one curious glance ; he seemed like a man in a trance, deaf, blind, dumb, but yet gazing fixedly at the inanimate figure on the bier. It was the corpse of a young woman, who had been handsome; the features were still so, and her long black hair fell about her shoulders like a mourning pall. " Dieu ! " said the fishwife, licking her lips, " what a white throat she had ; 't would have been a pity to hang her. See, there is a mark there on her arm where 'twas bound! Is she not pretty, Bossu ? " The hunchback had approached the corpse, and at this appeal he nodded his head. " Diable /" ejaculated the soldier turning on the old crone, " 't is heresy to call a damned person pretty, Mere Tigrane." Mere Tigrane leered at him with horrible intelligence. " No one is to think a heretic pretty but the dragoons, eh?" she said grinning. " Dame f we know what you think, monsieur." The man laughed brutally, and she edged up THE BODY OF A DAMNED PERSON 15 to him, whispering in his ear, her narrow eyes on the silent visitor opposite. The dragoon looked over too at her words, and broke out with an oath. " You are a witch, Mere Tigrane," he said uneasily; "let me alone!" Again she whispered, but laughed this time, showing her yellow teeth. Meanwhile the showman had been fortunate and a dozen new-comers crowded into the tent, pressing the others aside. This afforded an opportunity for the hunchback to approach the young man, who had remained by the bier as if chained to the ground. Le Bossu touched his arm, at first lightly, but finding himself un- heeded, he jerked the other's sleeve. The stranger started and stared at him as if he had just awakened from sleep. " A word with you, friend," said the hunch- back, softly. The man hesitated, started, paused and cast another long look at the dead face, and then followed the cripple through the group at the door, out into the sunshine and uproar of the market-place. They were not unobserved by 1 6 THE COBBLER OF NlMES Mere Tigrane, but she made no effort to follow them ; she was watching the new arrivals as they approached the corpse. As she saw their faces of curiosity and horror, she laughed. ' Mere de Dieu!" she said, "'tis worth a half-crown after all and I paid Adolphe in false coin too, pauvre gar$on ! " In the market-place, the stranger had halted with the hunchbacked cobbler. " What do you want?" he demanded of le Bossu ; " I do not know you." " You were in danger," replied the hunchback, quietly, " and you are in trouble ; the Ion Dieu knows that I also am in trouble." The little man's tone, his deformity, his kind eyes appealed to the other. " We should be friends," he said grimly. " Dieu ! I am indeed in trouble." The hunchback made a sign to him to be cautious, the crowd hemmed them in, the mon- key chattered, the bear danced, Mademoiselle Helo'fse was singing a savory song from Paris. The whole square was white with the sunshine ; above, the sky was deeply blue. " Follow me, friend," said le Bossu again, and THE BODY OF A DAMNED PERSON I/ commenced to thread his way through the crowd. His new acquaintance hesitated a moment, cast a backward glance at the tent he had just quitted, and then quietly followed the hunch- back. They had to cross the market-place, and the little cobbler seemed to be widely known. Goodwives greeted him, young girls giggled heartlessly before the misshapen figure passed, men nodded indifferently, the maliciously dis- posed children calling out " le Bossu ! " at him as he went. A heartless rabble out for a gala day ; what pity had they for the hunchbacked shoemaker of the St. Antoine? The man who followed him escaped notice; he was straight- limbed and erect, and his shabby dress dis- guised him as completely as any masquerade. When they had left the crowd behind, they walked together, but still silently, along the thoroughfare. The groups of pleasure-seekers grew more rare as they advanced, and they were almost alone when they passed the Garden of the Re"- collets the Franciscan Convent and entered the Rue St. Antoine. Here it was that the 1 8 THE COBBLER OP NfMES stranger roused himself and addressed his com- panion. "Where are we going? " he asked sharply. " To my shop," replied le Bossu ; " 't is but ten yards ahead now. Have no fear," he added kindly ; " the bon Dieu made me in such shape that my heart is ever with the sorrowful." " I do not understand you," said the other. " I do not know your name you do not ask mine why do you seek me out?" " My name is Chariot," returned the cripple, simply. " I make shoes, and they call me by more than one name. My rich patrons say Chariot, my poor ones call me le Savetier, others mock me as the hunchback le Bossu ! It does not matter. As for your name, I will know it when you please, monsieur." They had come to an arched gateway be- tween two houses, and the cobbler entered, fol- lowed by the other man. They stood in a court, and on three sides of it were the faces of three houses ; it was a veritable cul-de-sac. A small square of sunshine marked the centre of the opening, and in this a solitary weed had bloomed, springing up between the crevices in THE BODY OF A DAMNED PERSON 19 the stone pavement. To the left was an arched door with three steps leading to it, and over it hung a sign with two shoes painted upon it. The hunchback pointed at this. " Behold my shop," he said, " the sign of the Two Shoes." He took a key out of his wallet, and ascend- ing the steps, opened the door and invited his new acquaintance to enter. CHAPTER II THE SHOP OF TWO SHOES THE two, le Bossu and his guest, entered a small room fitted up as a shop. The window was open and across the unused fireplace were suspended half a dozen shoes of various sizes. The cobbler's bench was strewn with tools, and scraps of leather lay on the floor. On one side of the room hung a hide prepared for use ; op- posite was a colored picture of St. Elizabeth, with her arms full of roses, the patron saint of the poor. There were two wooden chairs, the cobbler's stool, and a box of sabots, nothing more. A door opened into the kitchen, where a narrow flight of stairs like a ladder as- cended to the second story. On the kitchen hearth the pot-au-feu was simmering, the sa- vory odor filling the room, and on the table was a loaf of black bread and some garlic. The hunchback asked his guest to be seated and then sat down himself, looking attentively THE SHOP OF TWO SHOES 21 but kindly at the new arrival. The stranger had a strong face, although he was still a young man. His complexion was a clear olive, and his dark eyes were gloomy and even stern. He wore no periwig, his natural hair curling slightly. In his turn, he scrutinized the cripple, and never was there a greater contrast. Le Bossu was small, and the hump on his back made him stoop ; as often occurs in such cases, the upper part of his body and his head were out of proportion with his small and shrunken limbs. His arms were long and powerful, however, his hands well shaped and strong, though brown and callous from labor, and they were skilful hands, able to earn a living despite the feeble legs and back. His face was pale and drawn from much physical suffering, but his eyes were beautiful, large, brown, and full of expression. Tjiey redeemed the cripple's whole aspect, as though the soul looking out of its windows made its own appeal. It was his eye that won upon his new acquaintance. " You said you wished to speak to me," he remarked abruptly. " What is it? " " I will tell you the truth, friend," le Bossu 22 THE COBBLER OF N?MES replied calmly, " you were showing too much emotion yonder; you were observed by the dragoon and Mere Tigrane. She is a dan- gerous person; men call her the she-wolf la Louve" "Too much emotion!" repeated the other, " Dien ! you seem an honest man shall I tell you who that dead woman was?" he asked recklessly. "Are you a Catholic?" "I am," replied the cobbler, quietly; "'tis best to tell me nothing." His visitor stared at him. " Why did you try to protect me, then ? " he asked. " I am a desperate man and un- known to you I have no money to reward kindness." " Nor to pay for a lodging," remarked the hunchback. The other thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out half a crown, looking at it with a grim smile. " My worldly goods," he said. " I thought so," rejoined the cobbler, dryly, " and you paid the other half-crown to see the dead Huguenot woman." THE SHOP OF TWO SHOES 2$ An expression of pain passed over the face opposite. " I would have paid more to be sure that it was " He broke off, covering his face with his hands. " Oh, mon Dieu ! " he exclaimed brokenly. The hunchback was silent for a few moments, his arms folded and his eyes on the floor. " You must leave Nimes," he said at last ; "you will betray yourself here. Meanwhile, there is a room overhead ; if you wish you can stay there, free of rent, until you go." "Again, why do you do this?" asked the stranger. The cobbler indicated his hump with a gesture. " The ban Dieu made me so," he said simply ; " yet I am a scorn in the market-place, a miserable cripple. I swore to the saints that I would help the miserable." " You will take a risk," remarked his com- panion, " I am Frangois d'Aguesseau, a Huguenot " Hush ! " The cobbler held up his hand. " I do not wish to know, M. d'Aguesseau. If you will take the upper room, 'tis yours." 24 THE COBBLER OF NtMES " I will take it while I can pay for it, at least," said d'Aguesseau, " and I thank you." The hunchback rose, leading the way across the kitchen to the stairs. He walked slowly, and occasionally dragged one foot, but he ascended the steps with some agility, followed by his guest. There was a trap-door at the top, which he opened before they could step on to the floor above. D'Aguesseau knew that he was taking a great risk, that this might be a snare laid for those of the Religion, but he was, at the moment, a desperate and reckless man, and he cared little. He had entered Nimes that morning, almost without money, he had just had his worst fears confirmed, and he cared little now for life or death. They entered a room above the kitchen, where the cripple slept, and this opened into another small room over the shop. Both were clean, though poor and bare. The hunchback stopped before a shrine in his own chamber, and lighting a taper, set it before the Virgin. "What is that?" asked d'Aguesseau with a strange glance from the image to the devotee. "A prayer," replied le Bossu; "when I THE SHOP OF TWO SHOES 2$ see danger I always offer a prayer to our Lady." The Huguenot smiled contemptuously, but said no more, following his host into the front room. " It is yours," said the hunchback. " You are weary; lie down until the pot-au-feu is ready, and we will sup together." " I have been in many places," said d'Agues- seau, " and seen many people but never one like you before." Le Bossu smiled. " Yet save for the hump I am as others," he said quietly. " I hear some one crossing the court, " he added ; " if any one enters the shop, 't is best for you to be quiet up here. There are some who need not know I have a guest." " I trust I shall not imperil your safety by any carelessness," d'Aguesseau replied earnestly, casting a kindly glance at the drawn face. " I must go down," said the cobbler. " Rest here awhile ; I will call you to supper." His guest thanked him, still much perplexed by this unusual friendliness, and stood watching the hunchback as he went back to the trap- 26 THE COBBLER OF NJMES door, and did not withdraw his eyes until his host disappeared through the opening in the floor. Le Bossu heard footsteps in the shop as he descended the stairs, and leaning forward, saw Mere Tigrane in the kitchen door. Without a word he went back and closed the trap, slip- ping the bolt ; then he came down to find la Louve in the kitchen. " Where are my sabots, Petit Bossu?" she de- manded, her fierce little eyes travelling around the room, and her lips very red. " I came for them myself, you are so slow." " You do not need them, Mere Tigrane," the cobbler replied coolly, eying her feet; "your sabots are as good as new. I did not promise the others until St. Bartholomew's day." She began to grumble, moving over to the fire and peering into the pot-an-feu. " Dame ! but you live well, Chariot," she re- marked. " The sight of the damned corpse gave me also an appetite. Mtre de Dieu ! how white and tender her flesh was ! 'T would have made a good pottage," she added laughing, her yellow teeth showing against her blood-red THE SHOP OF TWO SHOES 2? tongue like the fangs of a she-wolf verily, she merited her name. " You should arrange with Adolphe," the hunchback said coolly. " I will send you your sabots on Wednesday." " Eh ! but I '11 come for them," she re- plied with a wink ; " I love to come to visit you." The cobbler grunted, moving slowly and pain- fully as he did at times to the shop. But Mere Tigrane was reluctant to follow him, she was listening; she thought she heard a step overhead. " Chariot," she said amiably, " how much do you get for your room above ? " " I do not rent it," he replied calmly, but he too was listening. Happily, the sounds above ceased. " I want it," she remarked briskly; " I will pay a good price for it for my cousin. He is ap- prenticed to the blacksmith behind the Garden of the Recollets. I will look at it now at once Petit Bossu." The cobbler started, but controlled himself, though la Louve had her foot on the ladder. 28 THE COBBLER OF NJMES She could be swift when she pleased, and she could hobble. " It is locked to-day," he said coolly, " and I shall not rent it now." She grinned, with an evil look. " What have you got there, man chdri? " she demanded, shaking her cane at him with sinister pleasantry. " The devil," replied le Bossu, sitting down to his bench and taking up a shoe and beginning to stitch. "Or his wife which?" la Louve asked jocosely. She was satisfied now that the trap was fas- tened, and it was not always wise to offend the cobbler. She returned to the shop with a dis- satisfied face. " You have no hospitality," she said, " you dog of a cobbler I will come on Wednesday again for the sabots" " As you please," he retorted indifferently, stitching away. " Diable ! you sew like a woman," she re- marked. " You might better be cutting my shoes out of the good wood, that does THE SHOP OF TWO SHOES 2$ not split, than making those silly things of leather ! " She lingered a little longer, but still he did not heed her, and at last she hobbled off, picking up a basket of fish that she had left on the doorstep. But she did not leave the court until she had looked again and again at the upper window of the shop of Two Shoes. Yet she saw nothing there but the white curtain fluttering in the breeze. An hour later she was back at the market- place, grinning and selling her fish. She was in time too, to hear the uproar when Adolphe, the showman, found the false coin in his box. She pushed to the fore, her red handkerchief conspicuous in the group, and her sharp eyes recognized the country boy who had followed her in to see the damned person. The show- man was belching forth oaths and threats like the fiery furnace that belched flames on Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego. Mere Tigrane's eyes gleamed, and she pointed a long, bony finger at the poor lad. " He put it in, Adolphe," she shrieked, with an oath. " I saw him, the vagabond ! " 30 THE COBBLER OF NJMES Then she laughed and shook, clapping her hands to her sides. It was so diverting the uproar, and the protests of the peasant boy as he was dragged off to jail with the rabble at his heels. " Dame ! " she said, " 't was worth a good half- CHAPTER III MADEMOISELLE'S SLIPPERS THE first day of the week Petit Bossu set his house in order. He swept the- floor of the shop and put a cold dinner on the kitchen table that his guest might eat in his absence. Then he hung up his apron and blouse and, putting on his worn brown coat, slipped the leather strap of his wallet over his shoulder. Last he took a pair of slippers out of a cupboard and examined them with loving care and honest pride in their workmanship. They were small, high-heeled, blue slippers, daintily lined with white silk, and with rosettes of blue ribbon on the square toes. The little cobbler stroked them tenderly, fastened one bow more securely, and putting them carefully in his green bag, set out on his journey. It was early, and few people lounged in the streets, and le Bossu passed unheeded through the Rue St. Antoine, and went out at last at the Porte de France. 32 THE COBBLER OF NlMES His pace was always slow, and to-day he limped a little, but he kept cheerfully on, turning his face toward St. Cesaire. The highroad, white with dust, unrolled like a ribbon through a rugged plain which lay south- west of Nimes, stretching from the low range of limestone mountains the foothills of the Cevennes on the north to the salt marshes of the Mediterranean on the south. Rocks cropped up on either side of the road ; the country was wild and barren-looking, although here and there were fig trees and vineyards, and farther west was the fertile valley of the Vaunage. North of those limestone hills lay the Cevennes, where since the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes the poor Huguenot peasants were making their desperate fight for liberty of conscience, against the might and the bigotry of Louis XIV. Their leader, Laporte, was dead, but he had been succeeded by Jean Cavalier and Roland, and revolt still raged in the caves and fastnesses of the upper Cevennes, though Marechal Montrevel and the Intendant of Languedoc assured the king that they had wiped out the insurrection. But the " Barbets" MADEMOISELLE'S SLIPPERS 33 or " Camisards," as they were called in derision, though naming themselves "Enfants de Dieu," kept up the fierce death-struggle. Meanwhile the city of Nimes was judiciously orthodox in the presence of the dragoons, and many Huguenots went to mass rather than suffer torture and death. Not every man is made for a martyr, and there were terrors enough to awe the most heroic. The bodies of Protes- tants who died in prison were exposed at fairs for a fee, or dragged through the streets on hurdles to be burned, as a warning and exam- ple to the misguided who still lived. Yet the busy life of every day went on ; people Bought and sold and got gain; others married and made feasts ; children were born, to be snatched from Huguenot parents and baptized into the old religion ; some men died and were buried, others were cast from the galleys, at Marseilles, into the sea. Such was life in Nimes in those old days when the sign of Two Shoes hung over the humble shop on the Rue St. Antoine. All this while le Bossu was trudging along the white road. He met many country people 3 34 THE COBBLER OF NJMES now, bringing their vegetables and poultry to town, and more than once he was saluted with the mocking cry, " Petit Bossu ! " He kept steadily on, however, taking no heed, his face pale from the exertion, or the repression of his natural temper, which resented insults and injury more keenly than most people of his condition, in an age when the poor were as the beasts of the field to the upper classes. Many thoughts were passing in the hunchback's mind, but he dwelt most upon the little blue slippers, and when he did, his brown eyes softened, the drawn expression on his thin face relaxed. " The bon Dieu bless her," he murmured ; " to her I am not the hunchback or the cobbler to her I am poor Chariot, her humble friend. del! I would die for mademoiselle." He toiled slowly on ; passing the village of St. C^saire, he turned sharply to the north, and walking through a grove of olive trees, came in sight of a chateau that nestled on the crest of a little eminence looking west toward the Vau- nage. The sun shone on its white walls and sloping roof, and sparkled on its window panes. The building was not large, and it had a long, MADEMOISELLE'S SLIPPERS 35 low wing at one side, the whole thrown into sharp relief by its background of mulberry trees. The house was partially closed, the wing show- ing green-shuttered windows, but the main part was evidently occupied. On the southern side was the garden, with high hedges of box, and toward this the cobbler turned his steps. As he approached the wicket gate, which was set in a lofty part of the hedge, a dog began to bark furiously, and a black poodle dashed toward him as he entered, but recognizing the visitor, she ceased barking and greeted le Bossu with every demonstration of friendship. " Ah, Truffe," said the cobbler, gently, " where is your mistress ? I have brought her the blue slippers at last." As if she understood the question, the poodle turned and, wagging her tail, led the way back between two rows of box toward the centre of the garden. The dog and the cobbler came out into an open circle well planted with rose bushes, that grew in wild profusion around the old sun-dial. Here were white roses and pink, yellow and red, large and small ; and sweet and fragile they looked in the old garden, which was 36 THE COBBLER OF NJMES but poorly kept despite the neat hedges. On a rustic seat in the midst of the flowers sat a young girl, the sun shining on her fair hair, and tingeing with brown the red and white of her complexion. Her face and figure were charm- ing, and she had almost the air of a child, dressed as she was in white, her flaxen hair falling in two long braids over her shoulders. The dog began to bark again at the sight of her, running to her and back to .the hunchback to announce the arrival of a friend. She looked up with a bright smile as the cobbler lifted his cap and laid down the green bag on the seat at her side. " Ah, Chariot, you have my slippers at last," she exclaimed gayly, her blue eyes full of kind- ness as she greeted her humble visitor. " I have them, Mademoiselle Rosaline," he replied, his worn face lighting up, " and they are almost worthy of the feet that will wear them." " Almost ! " laughed mademoiselle, " you are a born courtier, Chariot oh, what dears ! " Le Bossu had opened his bag and drawn out the blue slippers, holding them up for her admiration. MADEMOISELLE'S SLIPPERS 37 " They are pretty enough for a queen ! " said Rosaline, taking them in her hands and looking at them critically, with her head on one side. " Oh, Chariot, I shall never forgive you if they do not fit ! " " They will fit like gloves, mademoiselle," the shoemaker replied complacently ;" let me try them on for you." But she was not yet done with her examina- tion. "Where did you get the pattern for the rosettes?" she asked eagerly; "truly, they are the prettiest I have seen." " I copied them after a pair from Paris, mademoiselle," he replied, as pleased as she at his own success. " The heels too are just like those worn at Versailles." Mademoiselle Rosaline laughed softly. " I told you that you were a courtier, Char- lot," she said ; " but they say that the king wears high red heels, because he is not tall." " But red heels would not please mademoi- selle on blue shoes," remarked the hunchback, smiling. " But, Chariot," said she, with a mischievous 38 THE COBBLER OF NJMES gleam of fun in her eyes, " if we must all be of the king's religion, must we not all also wear his red heels? " The cobbler's pale face grew sad again. " Alas, mademoiselle," he said, with a sigh, "to you 'tis a jest, but to some " he shook his head gravely, looking down at the little blue slippers in her lap. " What is the matter? " she asked quickly, the smile dying on her lips. " Have they been burning any one lately in Nimes?" " Nay, mademoiselle," he replied, kneeling on one knee in the gravel path, and taking the slip- pers off her small feet to try on the new ones. "Come, come, Chariot tell me," persisted his patroness, scarcely heeding the shoe that he was drawing on her right foot. " You are as solemn as an owl this morning." " I will tell mademoiselle," he rejoined, rever- ently arranging the rosette and smoothing the white silk stocking around the slender ankle. " Then she must not blame me if she is horri- fied." " She is often horrified," interrupted Rosaline, with a soft little laugh. " Go on, Chariot." MADEMOISELLE'S SLIPPERS 39 " There was a fair on Saturday mademoi- selle knows, for I saw Babet there buying a silk handkerchief " " Babet cannot stay away from a fair for her life," mademoiselle interpolated again. " 'Twas a very fine fair," continued le Bossu, putting on the other slipper. "There were many attractions, and the jailer Zenon had the body of a damned woman there ; Adolphe, the showman, exhibited it for half a crown. She, the dead woman, was, they say, one of the Huguenot prisoners from the Tour de Con- stance, and she died on her way here ; she was to be examined by M. de Baville for some reason, what, I know not, but she died on the road, and Zenon made much by the exhibition." Rosaline shuddered, the color fading from her cheeks. " And you went to see that horrible, wicked spectacle, Chariot?" she demanded, in open disgust. " Mademoiselle knows I am a good Catholic," replied the cobbler, meekly, his eyes drooping before her look of disdain. " 'T is done for 4O THE COBBLER OF NJMES the good of our souls to show us the fate of these misguided people." " Man Dieu ! " ejaculated mademoiselle, softly. Silence fell between them unbroken save by the soft sounds of summer, the humming of the honey-bees, the murmur of the mulberry leaves stirred by a light wind. Mademoiselle sat look- ing vacantly at her new slippers, while the shoe- maker still knelt on one knee watching her face with that pathetic expression in his eyes that we see only in the look of sufferers. " That was not all I saw at the fair," he went on at last. " In the tent there was also " Rosaline made a gesture of disgust. " I will hear no more ! " she cried indignantly. " This will not horrify you, mademoiselle," he replied gently ; " 't is only the story of my new guest." Her face relaxed, partly because she saw that she had hurt the hunchback's feelings. " Well, you may tell me," she said reluctantly. "There was a young man there in that tent Nay, mademoiselle, I will say nothing more of it." Le Bossu broke off, and then went on carefully : " He was in great anguish, and MADEMOISELLE'S SLIPPERS 41 I saw that he was watched by a wicked old woman and one of the dragoons. I got him away to my house, and there I found he had no money, except one piece, and was in great trouble. He is " the cobbler looked about keenly at the hedges, then he lowered his voice, " a Huguenot." "And what did you do with him?" Rosaline demanded eagerly. " He is in my upper room now," replied the hunchback, " but I do not know where he will go. He is not safe in Nimes. I think he wants to join the Barbets, but, of course, he tells me nothing. He is a gentleman, mademoiselle, le Bossu knows, and very poor, like many of the Huguenots, and proud. I know no more, except that he was reckless enough to tell me his name." " What is it? " she asked, all interest now, and more than ever forgetful of her new slippers. " Francois d'Aguesseau," he answered, in an undertone, with another cautious glance behind him. " 'T is all very strange," remarked mademoi- selle, regarding the worn face thoughtfully. 42 THE COBBLER OF NJMES " You are a good Catholic, Chariot, yet you imperil yourself to shelter a Huguenot." " The risk to me is very little," he replied with great simplicity. " I am too humble for M. de Baville, and how could I give him up? He is a kind young man, and in trouble ; ah, mademoiselle, I also have had troubles. May the ban Dieu forgive me if I do wrong." " I do not think you do wrong, Chariot," she said gently, " and I am sure the bon Dieu for- gives you; but M. de Baville will not." " I can die but once, mademoiselle," he rejoined smiling. "Why is it you always smile at death?" she asked. " Ah, mademoiselle, you are not as I am," he said quietly. " Death to me the gates of Paradise stand open suffering over poverty no more ! " Tears gathered in Rosaline's blue eyes. " Do you suffer much now?" she asked. " Nearly always," he replied. Again there was a painful silence. Then le Bossu recollected the slippers and rearranged the rosettes. MADEMOISELLE'S SLIPPERS 43 " They fit like gloves, mademoiselle," he said calmly, " do they give you comfort? " The girl roused herself. "They are beautiful, Chariot," she replied, standing up and pacing to and fro before the bench, to try them. " They do not even feel like new shoes. You are a magician." She had lifted her white skirts to show the two little blue feet. Le Bossu stood up too, admiring not only the slippers, but the beauti- ful face and the golden hair, as fair as the sun- shine. Even Trufife, the poodle, danced about in open approval. Then they heard a sharp voice from the direction of the house. "Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle Rosaline!" it called; "the dinner grows cold, and Madame de St. Cyr is waiting. Viens done!" " Poor Babet ! " laughed Rosaline ; " I am her torment. Come to the house, Chariot ; she will have a dinner for you also, and grandmother will be delighted with these beautiful slippers. Come, Truffe, you at least are hungry, you little gourmande" CHAPTER IV ROSALINE THE sun shone cheerfully in the dining-room of the chateau. The long windows were open, and the soft June air came in, laden with the sweetness of the garden. The room was of moderate size and furnished with perfect sim- plicity, the polished dark wood floor being bare of rugs. In the corner was a tall clock with a silver dial, wherein were set the sun, moon, and stars, moving in unison with the hands. On the sideboard were a few pieces of silver that dated back to the days of Francis I. The table, cov- ered with a fair linen cloth, was set for two, a glass bowl full of pansies in the centre. Rosa- line sat at one end and at the other was her grandmother, Madame de St. Cyr. Between them was Truffe, the poodle, sitting solemnly, with a napkin tied about her neck, and turning her black face from one to the other in eager but subdued anticipation. ROSALINE 45 Madame de St. Cyr was an old gentlewoman with a handsome, delicate face and the blue eyes of her granddaughter; her hair had the whiteness of snow and there were lines of age and suffering about her mouth. She wore a plain gown of black silk with a fall of lace at the throat, and a lace cap on her head, and her thin white hands showed the blue veins like whip-cords, but they were slender and graceful hands, with tapering fingers and delicate wrists. The two women were alone ; their only ser- vant, the woman Babet, was in the kitchen, set- ting out a dinner for the cobbler, and they could hear the murmur of her voice as she lec- tured him. Madame de St. Cyr was listening to Rosaline with a troubled face. " Ah, grand' mtre, can we not help him? " the girl said earnestly. " Think of his desolate sit- uation." " We are poor, Rosaline," the old woman re- plied gently, " and helpless. Moreover, if our religion were suspected the bon Dieu only knows what would happen. I am too old to hide away in the caves of the CeVennes ! Nor is it clear that it is my duty to help this fellow religion- 46 THE COBBLER OF NJMES ist if by so doing I put you in danger. Ah, my child, for you it would be the Tour de Con- stance or worse ! " Rosaline was feeding some morsels to Truffe with perfect composure. " I have never been afraid, grand'mh'e," she said, " and I hate to live a lie but I know you are wise. Yet, oh, madame, think of this Hu- guenot in Nimes ! " "What did Chariot call him?" her grand- mother asked thoughtfully. " I thought the name was familiar." " He said 'twas Francois d'Aguesseau." Madame de St. Cyr sat a moment silent, try- ing to gather her recollections in shape, then her memory suddenly helped her. " Certainly I know," she said ; " they are from Dauphine. He must be the son of Sieur d'Aguesseau who was broken on the wheel at Montpellier in '99. I remember now very well ; he had a son and a daughter, and I did hear that she was carried away to the Tour de Con- stance. It must have been the same young woman whose corpse was exhibited on Saturday at Nimes. The song is true," she added sadly : ROSALINE 47 " ' Nos filles dans les monasteres, Nos prisonniers dans les cachots, Nos martyrs dont le sang se rdpand a grands flots, Nos confesseurs sur les galeres, Nos malades perse'cute's, Nos mourants exposes a plus d'une furie, Nos morts trained a la voierie, Te disent (6 Dieu !) nos calamit^s.' " " What a terrible story of sorrow it is ! " re- marked Rosaline ; " and to think that the corpse of a gentlewoman should be exposed in the market-place ! Man Dieu! I wonder if mine will be ! " Madame put up her hand with a gesture of horror. " Hush ! " she said, with white lips, " I cannot bear it." Rosaline was contrite in a moment. " A thousand pardons, grand'mhe" she said sweetly ; " you and I have lived so long the life of concealed Huguenots, treading on the edge of the volcano, that I grow careless in speech." " But do you not see why I am so reluctant to take a risk?" her grandmother asked. "Yet I know that this Francois d'Aguesseau is related to me through his mother. I remember now 48 THE COBBLER OF N?MES who she was, and it seems that I must do what I can." Her granddaughter's face lighted. "That is like you, madame," she said brightly; "we could not believe she would turn a deaf ear, could we, Truffe? Ah, you petite gourmande, have I not given you enough?" The older woman watched the girl fondly as she fed and petted the dog. This granddaughter was her last link with the world. Her son, the Comte de St. Cyr had fallen fighting for the king the year before the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, when Rosaline was only three months old. His wife survived him only two years, and the grandmother brought up the child. They had never been rich, and the estate had suffered under madame's management, for she was always cheated and robbed, being as unworldly as a woman could be who had seen something of the gay life of her day. Her mind now was full of the guest of le Bossu, and she was troubled. " I do not know what we can do, Rosaline," she said in evident perplexity; "he can come here, of course, and share our crust, if he ROSALINE 49 will, but a guest, and an unknown one, would excite comment; and there is M. de Baudri." Rosaline made a grimace. " I wish M. de Baudri would stay with his dragoons in Nimes," she retorted. " But, grand 1 mhv t there must be a way. Let us think and think, until we find it." " I cannot understand Chariot," remarked Madame, meditatively. " We know he is a de- vout Romanist, yet this is not the first time I have known him to help the persecuted." " He is the strangest little man in the world," replied Rosaline, " and I believe that his heart is as big as his poor misshapen body. He is strangely refined too, for his condition in life. Poor little Chariot ! " "Do you think he suspects our religion?" madame asked anxiously. " I do not know," her granddaughter replied slowly, " but sometimes I think so." " Mon Dieu ! " murmured the old woman, with a sigh ; " the axe hangs over our heads." Rosaline looked up surprised. "Surely you do not fear Chariot?" she ex- claimed. "Chariot! why, he would no more betray us than would old Babet." 4 5 Try them, Bossu," he said ; " and see that they are good," he added with a smile, " for I expect to wear them at my wedding." A strange expression crossed the drawn face of the hunchback, as he knelt to put on the boot. " Monsieur expects to be married soon ? " he asked quietly. "Dame de Dieu, I do not know!" de Baudri exclaimed with a laugh; "my little white bird likes to use her wings, but I mean to clip them." Le Bossu smoothed the leather on the officer's ankle, and arranged the buckle, his head bent low over his work. " Monsieur plans for an early marriage, then?" he ventured again. M. de Baudri stared at him. " Au diable ! " he said harshly j " what is it to you, worm?" The cobbler made no reply; he was accus- tomed to such language from his patrons. He had put both boots on M. de Baudri's feet, and he sat back now on his own heels, looking at his work. 172 THE COBBLER OF NfMES "Is monsieur satisfied?" he asked meekly. The officer stood up, looking down at his feet. " Very good," he said at last, " they will do ; but make your bill small, you little beggar, or you will see that I know how to use them ! " and he laughed coarsely as he sat down and waited for Chariot to remove the boots and put on his others, which the hunchback began to do. " Curse you, you dog ! " he exclaimed, with a vicious kick at the shoemaker; "you hurt me in pulling that off! " "I beg your pardon, monsieur," le Bossu replied, with white lips, having dexterously dodged the kick. He knew to his cost that there were some perils attendant upon trying on shoes. He had put back one of M. de Baudri's high-heeled slippers and was taking off the other boot with some caution when the door was opened by a servant, who came to announce a visitor. "A miserable old woman, monsieur," the man said hesitatingly, " but she will not be denied." THE TEMPTATION OF LE BOSSU 173 " Dame, send her to the devil or to the Intendant ! " retorted M. de Baudri, with a grin at his own joke. The servant still 'stood at the door, with a perplexed face. His master cast a frowning glance in his direction. " What is it, idiot? " he demanded. " She has some information about these heretics, monsieur," the fellow answered, stam- mering; "she wants money." "Ante de St. Denis!" exclaimed monsieur, with a sneer, " does she take me for a pay- master?" The servant summoned his courage. " She told me to say to you two words, monsieur," he said, " and they were ' St. Cyr.' " " Diable ! " M. de Baudri cried fiercely. " Show her up here, you blockhead ! " The man closed the door hastily, and they heard his hurried steps retreating down the hall. M. de Baudri fell to cursing, and Chariot suddenly found that the buckle was hanging by a thread on the other shoe, the mate to the one on his patron's foot. The shoemaker got out his thread and his needle, and began to 174 T H E COBBLER OF NJMES sew the rosette in place, and it was very slow work indeed. Presently the door opened again, and Chariot looked up quickly and saw Mere Tigrane. Mere Tigrane, with her blood-red handkerchief about her head, and her blood-red mouth with its yellow fangs. She curtsied low to the officer and grinned as she did when she intended to be most amiable, but all this had no effect upon de Baudri ; he cursed her roundly and ordered her to tell her tale and begone. The old hag took it in good part, leering at him out of her evil eyes. " I have a little news for monsieur," she said pleasantly, " a little information about his friends, and 'tis worth a little money; monsieur knows that." " Diable, you old witch, out with it ! " he said, tossing her some coins. La Louve grovelled on the floor after them as they rolled away, her talon fingers clutching each piece greedily. One fell near the cobbler, and he thrust it toward her with the end of his awl, a look of disgust on his face. M. de Baudri laughed loudly. THE TEMPTATION OF LE BOSSU 175 " Dame! " he exclaimed ; " there are degrees even among vermin ! " Mere Tigrane gave le Bossu an evil, trium- phant look, and then began to count her money. " 'T is not enough," she said bluntly, turning on the officer with a sinister smile ; " 't is worth more, my beauty." Her insolent tone offended him and he stared at her. " Diantre! " he said, " I will have you thrown from the roof if you do not tell all you know, you thievish hag ! " Mere Tigrane hesitated, looking at the coins in her hand, but she had a motive more power- ful than greed this time. She changed her tone, however. " I 'm a poor woman, Excellency," she whined ; " 't is worth more." He threw her a broad piece, with a curse. " Go on ! " he shouted, fiercely ; " or I '11 break your neck." She put the money into her wallet and then licked her lips; there was a good taste in her mouth. 176 THE COBBLER OF N$MES " Monsieur knows the family at St. Cyr," she said, one evil eye seeming to fix itself on Chariot ; " the old woman and her grand- daughter are there, and a steward." M. de Baudri was interested now ; he frowned darkly upon her. " Does monsieur know who the steward is?" she demanded, her head on one side. " No, I thought not! 'Tis M. d'Aguesseau, the heretic from Dauphine, whose father was broken on the wheel at Montpellier to the edification of all good people ; and his sister was in the Tour de Constance. Her body was shown here at a fair. Dame ! but her flesh was white." M. de Baudri threw her another coin. " Your information is good," he said, leaning back in his chair with a smile. She curtsied and thrust the money in her wallet. " That is not all, monsieur," she said ami- ably ; " the young mademoiselle at the chateau she went with this heretic to a prayer-meet- ing out there by the old quarry and sang psalms there. Mere Tigrane knows ! And old Madame THE TEMPTATION OF LE BOSSU 1 77 de St. Cyr, she too is a heretic. Dame ! the chateau would make a good burning, monsieur." M. de Baudri turned a black face on her. " Look you, hag," he said, " there is more money. You are well paid, but if a word of this goes to any one else, nom de del ! I will hang you. Now an diable ! " Mere Tigrane took the money eagerly, vow- ing that she would be discreet, and got out of the room just in time to escape a boot that M. de Baudri picked up to throw at her. He was in a storm of passion ; he summoned his servants and ordered one to bring his horse and the other to get his riding-suit, and then he went to his room to dress, cursing heaven and earth in his haste to be off to St. Cyr. The hunchbacked cobbler had been forgotten, and when M de Baudri went out he quietly gathered up his bag and left the house. His face was white, but he had never walked so fast as he did then. He did not go to the shop ; he went straight along the Rue St. Antoine and out at the gate, and the road to St. C6saire stretched before him, as endless and as steep to his vision as the road to heaven. 12 CHAPTER XVI A BRIEF DELAY BEYOND the old windmill, on the estate of St. Cyr, the stream turned its course westward and tumbling over a rock, fell four or five feet into a broader rivulet and then flowed placidly on, twisting and turning at last toward the valley of the Vaunage. The gray cliffs towered boldly, hiding the little falls, locking them in a spot as wild and as deserted as the wildernesses of the CeVennes. But below, where the stream wid- ened, the banks were mossy, and in summer ferns and wild flowers clustered, and on either bank was a fringe of juniper bushes, and be- yond, the tall, well-nurtured chestnut trees. Here were fish, the brown trout darting through the placid waters, and the eels, and there were always birds in the trees when the chestnuts blossomed. But now the touch of autumn was upon it; the moss showed brown tints, and the nuts fell from the opening burrs, A BRIEF DELAY !?$ and the squirrels were gathering their winter stores. On the edge of the stream stood Rosaline St. Cyr, looking down into its clear depths at the pebbles in its bed. A little way off was Babet with a basket, and Chariot, the cobbler, knelt on the bank digging up a hardy fern with a broad knife, that had been given him for the purpose by the housekeeper. Truffe meanwhile ran about under the trees barking at every nut that dropped. The scene, in its rustic peace and simplicity, struck the shoemaker in pleasant con- trast with that other scene in Nimes. He was slow at his task, taking the root up carefully and lin- gering over it so long that Babet grew impatient. " How long thou art, Petit Bossu ! " she said, her arms akimbo. " del, I could have dug up forty ! We were doing better before you came." "C'est fini" replied the hunchback, holding up the fern. " Here it is ; how many will you have ? " Rosaline turned toward him. She had a large straw hat tied under her chin with blue ribbons, and her cheeks were like roses. l8o THE COBBLER OF NJMES " We want four like that, Chariot," she said cheerfully; " grand 1 mh'e always has a box of ferns for winter; they make a green spot in the room, and that is so pretty." "But, mademoiselle, 'tis near supper time," protested Babet, " and we have been here all the morning." Rosaline laughed a happy, careless laugh. " You may go home," she said ; " Chariot will bring me back when the basket is full, and we must not lose our dish of mushrooms for supper. Run along, Babet, and set the kettle boiling." Babet was nothing loath, though she grumbled loudly at the suggestion, but Chariot stopped digging a fern and looked up with a troubled face. The woman set down the basket for him to fill, and he half rose and made a movement as if to stop her, and then bent over his task again. Apparently, he had decided to let her go, and in a few moments her tall figure had dis- appeared behind the cliffs and he was alone with the young girl and her dog. Rosaline was strolling along the mossy bank singing softly to herself, the picture of joyful content. She was walking in a dream of love and youth, and she A BRIEF DELAY igl had forgotten the hunchback. He continued to kneel over the ferns, but he had paused in his digging, and his mournful brown eyes followed her with a mute devotion in their gaze. He did not know how long he could keep her there, but every half-hour counted, and surely there was hope that it would be over before she went back to the chateau. He knew what was passing there, but she did not, and her song almost made him shudder. Still, he hoped, he hoped much, that it was only d'Aguesseau who was wanted, and he was out of reach. The hunchback did not believe that this beautiful young creature was in any personal danger. He thought of the wedding shoes, and bent over the fern with a frown. What would that handsome savage, M. de Baudri, do? Ah, that was the question. Chariot remembered last night and its tempta- tions; verily, love and hate were nearly akin, and he had seen the fiend in monsieur's open blue eyes. Rosaline was in a happy mood. She stooped and gathering a handful of chestnuts, threw them one by one for Truffe to chase, and laughed gayly at the poodle's antics, clapping 1 82 THE COBBLER OF NlMES her hands to make her bring the nuts back to be thrown again. The hunchback watched her in silence, bending over his task again ; the basket was nearly full of plumes of fern now, and he was racking his brain for an excuse to keep mademoiselle longer away from the house. The drawn white face was full of anxiety, and now and then the brown hands trembled as they handled the plants. " Do you think it will be an early winter, Chariot?" Rosaline said at last, still tossing the chestnuts for Truffe. " I cannot tell, mademoiselle," he replied, looking up at the sky. "But last night the wind came howling straight from the Cevennes, and some say that means a short autumn. The bon Dieu knows that there will be suffering ; so many of these Cevenols have been taken or slain, and there were so few to gather the crops or card the wool. Mother of Heaven, the times are evil ! " There was silence ; Rosaline's face had lost its joyous look, and she left off playing with the dog and walked back to the spot where the shoemaker was kneeling by his basket. A BRIEF DELA Y \ 83 " Babet says the winter will be fearfully cold," she said absently, " and she is wise about these matters. I know not how many signs she has, but certainly more than I could ever remember." " I do not know about such things," he an- swered quietly, " but the autumn came early this year." Rosaline looked dreamily away toward the north. " The winter with its terrible storms, and this cruel war," she said thoughtfully, " I fear the suffering will be very great, Chariot. How does it seem in Nimes? What does M. Montrevel say?" " That it cannot last, mademoiselle," he re- plied. " His Majesty has sent great reinforce- ments, and the marechal is determined to crush the insurrection. Nothing is talked of in Nimes save the grandeur of the king and the weakness of the Cevenols." Rosaline sighed ; her mood changed entirely now, and her face was grave and even appre- hensive. There was no sound but the gentle dash of water from the falls. Presently her eyes lighted on the basket of ferns. 1 84 THE COBBLER OF NlMES " We have enough, Chariot," she said, in a dull voice ; " I am going back now. Come also, and Babet will give you supper; you must be tired." Poor Chariot was at his wits' end. " See, mademoiselle, there is a beautiful fern," he said, pointing his finger at three waving plumes of green ; " will you not have that also?" She looked at it without interest. " No, she replied indifferently, "let it remain; we have more than enough already, and I am tired." She was half-way up the bank, and Chariot rose in despair. " Mademoiselle," he said, " come back, I pray you ; "t is not yet time to return to the chateau." She looked around in surprise, and the ex- pression of his face awakened her suspicions. "What is it? "she demanded quickly; "what do you mean?" " You were not to return until six o'clock," he replied, at a loss for an excuse ; " Madame de St. Cyr so instructed me." " Madame de St. Cyr instructed you about A BRIEF DELAY 185 me? "exclaimed Rosaline in surprise; and there was a touch of hauteur in her manner that Chariot had never encountered before. " She told me so, when she sent me after you, mademoiselle," he answered humbly. Rosaline was roused now ; she stood looking at him with a searching glance. " Why did you come to St. Cyr to-day?" she demanded imperiously. The hunchback was not adroit, and he felt the peril of the moment too deeply to find ready replies. " I brought some shoes for madame to try," he said lamely. " That is not true, Chariot ! " she retorted indignantly; "madame has ordered no shoes, and you know it. You came for something," she went on, with increasing agitation ; " be honest, was it did it concern M. d'Aguesseau ? " The shoemaker looked at her with dull eyes, his pinched face unusually brown and haggard. " Yes, mademoiselle," he replied with an effort, " it concerned M. d' Aguesseau. M. de Baudri received information that he was a heretic, and he has come to St. Cyr to take him." 1 86 THE COBBLER OF NfMES Mademoiselle turned on him the face of an avenging angel. " And you " she said, with passionate scorn, " did you betray him? " The hunchback's lips twitched, like those of a person in sudden bodily pain, and he did not reply. " You miserable creature ! " Rosaline con- tinued, her blue eyes sparkling with anger. " Did you offer him shelter at first, and get him here that you might surely betray him? You are baffled, thank God ; you are out- witted ! " Chariot's hands clenched and he looked at her as if she had struck him. " Sang de Dieu, I am innocent ! " he said solemnly ; " I never betrayed him. I came here to warn him, and found that he had gone. I heard it all in M. de Baudri's rooms, and I hur- ried away, and by hiring a cart that I met in the road, I was at St. Cyr just five minutes before the dragoons came, and madame sent me here to keep you out of harm's way." " The dragoons at St. Cyr ! " cried Rosaline, forgetting all else in that announcement, " and A BRIEF DELAY l8/ my grandmother there alone ! Dieu, I will never forgive myself! " She ran up the bank without heeding the cobbler's appeals. " Stay, mademoiselle ! " he cried after her ; " stay but a moment and listen ! Ah, Mtre de Dieu, she rushes to her fate ! " He called to deaf ears ; Rosaline fled through the woods like a young fawn with the dog at her heels. She took no thought of herself but only remembered her grandmother and the terrible prospect of a dragonnade at St. Cyr. The custom of quartering dragoons on families suspected of heresy was too fearfully frequent for it to be improbable, and such visitations were attended by horrible indignities ; neither age nor innocence was spared, and the end generally saw the chateau in smoking ruins and the mem- bers of the devoted family dead or banished. All these things flashed through Rosaline's mind as she sped on the wings of love toward her home, and no one could have over- taken her. The poor hunchback followed as best he could, cursing the fate that had forced him to tell her. 1 88 THE COBBLER OF NIMES At the gate of the chateau, Rosaline met Babet, who tried to stop her, but in vain ; the girl ran across the garden and passed in through the side door, which the housekeeper had left open. All the while she wondered that the place seemed so deserted and that she saw no soldiers. She passed through the kitchen and dining room, and running upstairs to her grand- mother's sitting-room, flung open the door and found herself face to face with M. de Baudri. CHAPTER XVII M. DE BAUDRI'S TERMS ROSALINE did not look at M. de Baudri, but beyond him into the room, and she saw her grandmother's armchair vacant, and the door that led into the bedroom beyond stood open. The girl's heart seemed to stop beating, yet she could not believe the evidence of her senses. "Where is she?" she demanded of M. de Baudri imperiously. " Where is Madame de St. Cyr?" He had greeted her with a profound bow and he stood now before her, smiling and composed. " Madame is on her way to Nimes, made- moiselle," he said pleasantly. "To Nlmes?" repeated Rosaline, with pale lips. " Mon Dieu ! what have you done? " Her agitation did not ruffle his composure; he still looked at her with a smile. " I am afflicted to tell you such ill news, mademoiselle," he said suavely, " but unhap- I9O THE COBBLER OF A T TMES pily a complaint has been lodged against Madame de St. Cyr. She is accused of being a heretic, and of sheltering a heretic. A charge so serious must be investigated. Unfortu- nately," he concluded with a shrug, " I have to do my duty." " Your duty ! " repeated Rosaline, with spark- ling eyes. " Your duty, then, monsieur, is to drag a helpless old woman from the shelter of her home? " He bit his lip and a red spot showed in either cheek, but he controlled his own rising temper. " Assuredly, mademoiselle," he replied, " if she is guilty of the detestable crime of heresy." " And you will be guilty of the crime of mur- der, monsieur," she retorted with a fierce indig- nation ; for the moment, she was perfectly fearless. " Where is she ? Where have you taken her?" she cried. He looked at the clock. "She must be in Nimes now, mademoiselle," he replied courte- ously ; " she will be strictly confined there under guard until she has been interrogated by the authorities." Rosaline uttered a low cry of despair. M. DE BAUDRI'S TERMS 19 1 " Man Dieu ! " she said, " it will kill her ; you know it will kill her ! " He shrugged his shoulders. " I am not re- sponsible," he said ; " I am a soldier, bound to execute the orders of my superiors. For her sake, for yours, mademoiselle, I have endeavored to alleviate the circumstances of her arrest, and 't is possible that that there might be a compromise." He paused, looking at her with a strange expression. "What do you mean?" she demanded eagerly. M. de Baudri laid his hand on his heart. " It rests with you, mademoiselle," he said with gallantry, " to determine madame's fate. There is no doubt that she is a heretic, and you know the doom of heretics, but you may save her yet." Rosaline drew her breath sharply; an intui- tion warned her of what was coming. She was white to the lips, but her blue eyes shone. "Your meaning, monsieur?" she said in a low voice. " I stand high in the favor of M. Montrevel," IQ2 THE COBBLER OF NJMES he said placidly ; " I am a good Catholic. It is possible for me to obtain many concessions, if I wish to do so. Mademoiselle understands me ; it is necessary for me to help her, and my help can be obtained if Rosaline de St. Cyr desires it." She stood looking at him in silence, and he became at last a little uneasy under that searching glance. " You know that I love you, mademoiselle," he said; "if you consent now this moment to marry me, I will save madame." He spoke with the air of one who contem- plated a virtuous deed. "You wish me to marry you ! " she exclaimed, her voice quivering with passion. " M. de Baudri, I too am a heretic." She turned on him the same face that she had turned on the cobbler in the wood. "Why do you not give me up to the authori- ties, monsieur?" she went on defiantly; "you are a soldier, do your duty ! " " Mademoiselle does not understand that I love her," he retorted, unmoved. " Come, come, Rosaline, you are young, you are misguided, Af. DE BAUDRPS TERMS 1 93 but you will be converted. Say the word; promise to be my wife, and your grandmother shall be saved, I pledge you my word." " Beware, monsieur ! " Rosaline exclaimed with scorn. " I have thought you a brave man, but this is the act of a coward." His face reddened, and he suppressed the violence of his own mood with difficulty. " You forget," he said slowly, " that you are completely in my power. You are a heretic by your own declaration, your grandmother is a prisoner, and the precious steward, d'Agues- seau, is also in my power." His keen eyes saw the swift change in her face at d'Aguesseau's name. " M. d'Aguesseau?" she exclaimed, "is he taken ? " There was an expression of satisfaction in the keen blue eyes ; he had touched her at last. "This morning, mademoiselle," he replied coolly. " He is not only a heretic, but also a rebel." She was controlling herself by a great effort. "What will you do with him, monsieur?" she asked faintly. 13 194 THE COBBLER OF N?MES " Hang him, or send him to the galleys," he retorted calmly. She reeled, catching at the back of a chair to save herself from falling. M. de Baudri sprang toward her to proffer his assistance, but she motioned him away with a gesture of horror. "Do not touch me!" she cried; "do not touch me ! " She laid her head down on the back of the chair, overcome with contending emotions. The two she loved best in the world had been taken from her. " Mon Dieu / " she cried in a choking voice ; "what shall I do?" The fiercest passions leaped up into M. de Baudri's eyes, anger, jealousy, the desire for revenge ; he had suspected that there was some secret between Francois and Rosaline, and now he doubted it no longer. "Mademoiselle is more afflicted at the cap- ture of a menial than at the arrest of her own grandmother," he remarked with a sneer. " Doubtless she would like to arrange for his liberation also." Rosaline made no reply; she was sum- M. DE BAUDRFS TERMS 195 moning all her powers to meet this terrible emergency. "Even that is not beyond my power," M. de Baudri added coolly, " if mademoiselle desires to purchase this servant's liberty." Rosaline looked up with a haggard face, but her eyes sparkled with anger. " Francois d'Aguesseau js no servant," she cried ; " he is as well born and far more noble than his persecutor!" The man laughed fiercely. " He is doubtless mademoiselle's lover," he remarked contemptu- ously ; " she is more lightly won than I sup- posed." " It is always in the power of the strong to insult the weak," Rosaline retorted coldly. "You cannot deny that this heretic is your lover ! " he exclaimed passionately. Rosaline raised her head proudly; her inno- cent gentleness had deserted her; she was like a young lioness roused in defence of her own. " I do not deny it," she said fearlessly ; " M. d'Aguesseau is my equal and and, yes, monsieur, my affianced husband. I do not deny 196 THE COBBLER OF NfMES it, nor do I deny my love for him, though he is a prisoner and at your mercy ; the bon Dieu de- fend him and me ! " She had never looked more beautiful than at that moment of passionate indignation and de- fiance in the cause of those she loved. M. de Baudri, looking at her, swore in his heart that he would have her despite heaven and hell. " You are frank, mademoiselle," he remarked coolly. " 'T is unusual for a young girl to be so eager to declare her affection. I am afflicted indeed ; for 't is my portion to decide M. d'Aguesseau's fate, and it would grieve me to bereave mademoiselle of her lover ! " Rosaline's distress was shaking her resolution ; already her lips were quivering, and there were tears in the blue eyes. "Is his fate in your hands, monsieur?" she asked, with passionate anxiety and a desperate hope. M. de Baudri bowed, with his hand on his heart. " Absolutely," he replied pleasantly ; " he has not yet been handed over to the authorities. By lifting my finger I can set him free and also M. DE BAUDRfS TERMS 197 your grandmother, and as easily I can consign both to the miserable fate awaiting the heretics." Rosaline took a step forward, clasping her hands and gazing intently into his face. " Ah, monsieur, surely you will be merciful," she exclaimed, " surely you will spare my grand- mother a feeble woman and M. d'Agues- seau has he not suffered enough? Dieu ! he has lost all, his parents, his sister, his property. I cannot believe that you will condemn these two ! You are a man, and not a fiend." He watched her with an inscrutable expres- sion on his face. " And what will you do to regain their lib- erty?" he asked slowly. "What petition do you make for them ? " " I ask you in God's name," she said with passionate earnestness, " and on my knees, mon- sieur, though I never kneeled to living man before." She was kneeling, her white face lifted, her hands clasped ; and with her golden hair she looked more like a supplicating angel than an unhappy and defenceless girl. For him it was a moment of triumph ; and his heart was un- 198 THE COBBLER OF NIMES touched by any feeling of compulsion ; it only throbbed with fierce determination. " Rise, mademoiselle," he said, offering his hand with gallantry. " Serious as the situation is, dangerous as it is for me to release heretics, yet I must be less than human to resist such elo- quence and beauty. Your petition is granted on one condition." She looked at him searchingly, and her heart sank as she read the expression in his eyes. "And that condition?" she demanded in a low tone. " A simple one, mademoiselle," he said, with an easy air of confidence : " I adore you, Rosa- line; and when you are my wife, these two are free." "You say this to me after I have declared my love for another man ! " she exclaimed aghast, " you say this to me, a heretic ! Your conscience is not very scrupulous." He smiled. " You are but a child, Rosaline," he said ; " you will embrace my religion and marry me, or " he shrugged his shoulders, " the Tour de Constance for madame and the M. DE BAUDRI'S TERMS 199 gallows for your ex-lover. I give you a free choice ! " Rosaline clasped her hands against her heav- ing bosom, looking up, while the tears fell on her pale cheeks. " Mon Dieu ! " she cried ; " forgive me for kneeling to mortal man. I ought to have known that there was no mercy save in Thee. Alas, alas, my dear ones ! " There was a pause; she seemed to be ab- sorbed in her devotions, and M. de Baudri watched her in silence but with relentless eyes. Her beauty and her sorrow only intensified his fierce passion. " I see that you are willing to kill both rather than sacrifice your whim," he remarked, striking a skilful blow at her tottering resolution. " Is it possible that this is your fixed pur- pose?" she cried. " Can it be that you would have me save them thus? Have you no pride, that you are willing to take a bride on such terms are these? Have you no mercy? " " I am showing much," he replied suavely. " How many men would spare a successful rival's neck?" 2OO THE COBBLER OF NtMES " It will avail nothing," she said passionately " I will appeal to M. de Baville himself! " He laughed heartlessly. " Do so, made- moiselle," he said, with a shrug, " and you will have the pleasure of seeing your lover broken on the wheel like his father." She gave a low cry of horror, hiding her face in her hands. He walked over to the window and looked out. The sun was setting behind the valley of the Vaunage, and the wind was already blowing the yellow leaves from the trees and strewing the garden path with a shower of gold. He knew that she was in the throes of a mortal agony, and he did not dream of relaxing the pressure until he broke her will. He knew something of her character, and he believed her capable of any sacrifice for those she loved. He stood a while watching his orderly leading his horse to and fro before the gate. He had purposely deceived her on one point, and he believed that he would succeed without vio- lence, but he intended to have her at any cost. With her consent if he could, without it, if neces- sary, he was not troubled with many scruples, and her helpless anguish did not touch him. M. DE BAUDRPS TERMS 2OI He turned at last to find her sitting in her grandmother's chair, her face buried in her hands, and her golden hair, escaping its bonds, had fallen about her like a mantle. "I am going back to Nimes, mademoiselle," he said courteously, " and I regret that I have to leave the house in the hands of guards, but they are instructed to treat you with courtesy. Permit me to recommend that you continue your former prudent reserve in the matter of religion. At ten to-morrow morning, I shall return for my answer. You know the solitary condition, and you hold two lives in your lovely hands." She looked up with ineffable scorn in her blue eyes. " Dieu ! is this a man ? " she exclaimed. A deep red flush mounted to his forehead, but he bowed so profoundly that the curls of his periwig fell before his face. " It is your devoted lover, mademoiselle," he replied, and walked backward to the door, hold- ing his plumed hat against his heart and step- ping with the ease and precision of a dancing master. On the threshold he made her another pro- 2O2 THE COBBLER OF NlMES found obeisance and, smiling, closed the door behind him. He paused only a moment in the hall below to give a few sharp instructions to the sergeant left in command. " If any man attempts to enter this house to-night," he said in a hard tone, " shoot .him. If you let him evade you, I will hang you." The soldier saluted, and M. de Baudri walked calmly down the garden path, and leaping into the saddle, set off at a gallop for Ntmes. CHAPTER XVIII ROSALINE'S HUMBLE FRIENDS MEANWHILE a very different scene had been enacted in the kitchen, where Babet had con- fronted the cobbler and poured upon his devoted head a volley of questions. She had gone out with Rosaline early, before there was even a hint of approaching catastrophe, and she could not understand the swift march of events, and her suspicious soul was possessed with a rooted dis- trust of the poor hunchback, who had not yet rallied from Rosaline's accusations, striking home as they did after the guilty hours of his temptation. The two had shut themselves in the kitchen with the dog, and le Bossu sat by the fire, an expression of dull despair upon his face, while Babet stood over him, her arms akimbo and her keen black eyes riveted upon him. Like Rosaline, she questioned his motive for coming to the house at all. " What brought you here this morning, Petit 204 THE COBBLER OP NlMES Bossu?" she demanded harshly; "we needed no new shoes." The cobbler's face darkened. " Nom de St. Denis ! " he exclaimed ; " have you nothing better to do than to suspect your friends at such a time ? " " Yet you came and why ? " persisted Babet. The hunchback threw out his hands with a gesture of impatience. " There is no reason why I should explain to you," he retorted contemptuously. " Ah ! " ejaculated Babet, in a tone of dark suspicion, " what do you expect me to think of such obstinate silence? You must be a wicked man I have always heard that hunch- backs were malicious ; how could you give mademoiselle up? Why did you not let her escape through the woods, beast?" The cobbler was tried beyond endurance. " Mother of Heaven ! " he cried bitterly, " do you think that I would injure a hair of mademoi- selle's head? She could not escape; M. de Baudri had two circles of sentries about the place, and I knew it. There were men below the cataract in the woods to attempt to pass ROSALINE'S HUMBLE FRIENDS 2O$ them would have been to risk her life. You were in the snare ; I tried to keep her away from the house, but I could not, and they would have found her anywhere in the end." Babet threw back her head with a snort ; she had the air of an old war-horse scenting the battle from afar. "You knew a great deal about it," she re- marked maliciously; " could n't you warn us?" He sighed ; a weary resignation was settling down on his heart. It seemed that no one thought well of him, or expected good from him. " I knew nothing of it until this morning," he said coldly, " and then too late to help you. I am lame, and M. de Baudri rides a fine horse. Nevertheless, I got here five minutes before him but that was too late." His face and his voice began to convince even Babet, and a faint pang of remorse smote her heart, which, after all, was angered only on Rosaline's account. She left off questioning him and walked to and fro in the kitchen, trying to collect her thoughts, and the process was much impeded by the even tramp of the sentry, 2O6 THE COBBLER OF NfMES which sounded distinctly enough on the gravel path outside the windows. Once or twice, when the soldier's back was turned, Babet shook her fist at it, uttering threats in language that was more fervent than pious. " My poor lamb ! " she muttered, her thoughts returning to Rosaline, " what will she do in the hands of this wolf? Nom de del ! if I could but tear his throat ! " The hunchback did not heed her; he was staring at the floor with vacant eyes. He meant to save mademoiselle if he could, but how? His lips moved now and then, and his brown hands twitched nervously, but his ears were straining to catch the slightest sound. Presently Babet turned around, as if a sudden thought had flashed upon her ; she picked up the tongs from beside the fire, and hiding them under her apron walked deliberately out of the kitchen, slamming Ihe door behind her. The sound brought the sentry at a run, and they met face to face. Without a word, Babet lifted the tongs, and, snapping them on to the brim of his hat, flung it over the hedge. " There, you varlet ! " she exclaimed, holding ROSALINE'S HUMBLE FRIENDS 2O/ the tongs close to the end of his nose, " learn to take off your hat to a decent woman, who 's old enough to be your mother, and stop star- ing in the window with those goggle eyes of yours. I 'm no jail-bird, I tell you ! " " Mother ! " ejaculated the astonished dra- goon, " you old gray cat ! Dame ! if I do not wring your neck for your impudence when M. le Capitaine has gone." " Humph ! " retorted Babet, grimly, " you '11 find it tough, man fils. Your hat is in the briar bush, my lad ; " and she walked back into the house with a grim smile of triumph, leaving the soldier cursing her while he searched for his hat. Babet did not return to the kitchen ; she pro- ceeded up the stairs to the room where Rosa- line was talking to M. de Baudri. The door was closed ; but refined scruples were not among the good housekeeper's faults, and she calmly applied her ear to the keyhole, all the while clasping the tongs fiercely under her apron ; and for the next twenty minutes her face was a picture. More than once she had her hand on the latch, but prudence finally prevailed, and 2O8 THE COBBLER OF NJMES three minutes before M. de Baudri emerged, she made her way cautiously back to the kitchen. She had heard enough to understand the whole, and she descended upon the cobbler like an avalanche, carrying all before her. In the storm of her indignation she could not remain silent, and she poured out the whole story of M. de Baudri's shameless persecution of his prisoner. Le Bossu had long ago learned the lesson of self-control, and he listened with com- posure, though his face seemed to have aged since the morning. " Mon Dieu ! " cried Babet, regardless now of the sentry's stare, " he would force that white dove to marry him ! That villain de Baudri may the bon Dieu blast him as the great chest- nut-tree yonder was blasted with lightning ! He the rogue would make mademoiselle sell herself to him to save old madame and her lover. Woe is me, why did that man d'Agues- seau ever come here? " The hunchback looked up, surprise in his dull eyes. "What do you mean?" he demanded, "save her lover? Her lover is safe in the Cevennes." ROSALINE'S HUMBLE FRIENDS 2OO, " Much you know ! " retorted the woman, scornfully ; " it seems that he was captured this morning." The cobbler was silent a moment, thinking deeply. " I do not believe it," he said quietly. " You think it a lie of that devil's ? " asked Babet, eagerly. He nodded. " M. de Baudri is doing it to force her to yield," he said slowly ; " he has sworn to marry her. I do not believe that he has taken one Huguenot prisoner to-day, save " he stopped, and looked out of the window at the sentry, who kept staring in with a furious face. " Dieu, what a fiend ! " exclaimed Babet, thrusting her tongs into the fire, where they would heat, after casting a vicious glance toward the window. " He has given mademoiselle un- til to-morrow morning to decide,"she added. " What will she do?" the cobbler asked in a strange voice. " Do ? oh, I know her ! " the woman retorted with a snort ; " to save those two she would die. She'll marry him unless " Babet thrust 2IO THE COBBLER OF NJMES the tongs deeper in the coals, " unless I wring his neck ! " " That cannot be done," remarked le Bossu, soberly, "but something must be done to-night." "What?" snapped his companion, "what can a hunchback and an old woman do? A pretty pair of birds for such an emergency. Leer away, young man ; I have the tongs ready for you ! " she added in an aside, her fierce eyes on the window. " Has she one true friend with influence in Nlmes?" the cobbler asked. Babet shook her head, and then, after a mo- ment's thought, " There is Pere Ambroise," she said. Le Bossu's face brightened. " Good ! " he said, " the priest can do much ; and now, I am a Catholic, Babet, but as there is a God in heaven, I mean no harm ! Is there any boy or man who could carry a message amongst the Camisards?" Babet had grown reckless in her misery over mademoiselle ; she did not hesitate to reply. "There is the blacksmith's boy at St. Cesaire," she said, " a good child, and active as a wild hare. What do you want of him ? " ROSALINE'S HUMBLE FR TENDS 211 " If possible, I must find M. d'Aguesseau," he replied, " and also Pere Ambroise ; I cannot do both without help." "And if M. d'Aguesseau is in prison," sug- gested Babet, grimly. "The will of Heaven be done," replied the cobbler, calmly, " but Pere Ambroise shall be here before dawn," and he rose as he spoke. "How will you get out?" asked the woman, eying him curiously. "You will see," he rejoined, and quietly gathering up his bag of tools, he left the kitchen and walked through the hall. M. de Baudri had just left by the front way, and the cobbler went out at the back of the house. There was a high row of box beside the path, and dropping on his hands and knees he crept along behind it, past the sentry on that side. He had to move very slowly and softly, avoiding every dry twig and even the dead leaves, but he reached the outer hedge at last. Here there was a hole, through which Truffe passed in and out. The cobbler thrust his bag through and then followed it; his face and hands were scratched, but what of that? He rose from his 212 THE COBBLER OF N?MES knees in the open road, and, shaking off the dust, shouldered his load and walked on, limping more painfully than usual. He had to pass one guard, but this man did not know that he had been in the house and saw nothing unusual in the appearance of the little cobbler of St. Antoine. "You are late, le Bossu," he said good- naturedly. " The shoes fit too well," retorted the hunch- back, coolly, " and my patron is rich." " Pardieu! " the soldier exclaimed with a laugh. " I will borrow to-morrow morning. We have a bag of heretics here." " Mtre de Dieu, burn them, all but the shoes ! " said le Bossu, and walked calmly on. CHAPTER XIX "MORTIS PORTIS FRACTIS " IT was daybreak ; the pale sky was luminous, and the golden east throbbed with the approach- ing glory. Already the hill-tops were radiant, but the low country lay in the shadow, and a white mist floated over the valleys. The air was full of the twittering of birds, and all the life in Nature began to stir. There were no travellers on the high-road so early, save one, a corpulent priest, mounted on a stout mule, proceeding toward St. Cyr. Pere Ambroise detested extra- ordinary exertion, but he had yielded to the im- portunities of the cobbler. For his own part, he thought that ten o'clock was soon enough to deal with M. de Baudri, but he had roused him- self and set out at an unearthly hour because of le Bossu's representations. No man could regret the trouble at the chateau de St. Cyr more sincerely than he did ; he had labored to protect these two defenceless women, and he saw 214 THE COBBLER OF NlMES no profit in madame's arrest. Pere Ambroise would never be numbered with the persecutors ; he cared more for a bottle of good wine from the vintage of the Vaunage than he did for the arrest of a score of heretics. Besides, he had no real love for M. de Baudri, and he foresaw M. de Baudri's triumph. Pere Ambroise wanted to convert Rosaline ; he wanted to see her either in a convent or wedded to a good son of the Church, but he could not digest the prospect of this particular bridegroom. He had not the smallest respect for Rosaline's religious convic- tions or scruples ; it was impossible for him to regard them with anything but contempt or hatred, but he really cared for the girl's welfare. He had known her from a child, and he felt a sincere affection for her. For her sake he had spared Madame de St. Cyr, and he had no desire now to give her pain. He rode along, therefore, revolving all these matters in his mind, and wondering how far he could trespass on the patience and friendship of the Intendant of Languedoc, the only man who could take M. de Baudri in hand. The result of Pere Am- broise's ruminations was not satisfactory; he "MORTIS PORTIS FRACTIS" 21$ advanced at a leisurely pace, for his mule was nearly as stout as he was, and the sun rose in all its splendor as he approached St. Cyr. He disliked effort and excitement, and he could devise no easy and comfortable way out of the dilemma. After all, perhaps she would have to marry M. de Baudri ; at least, that ought to bring her into the church, and if she remained a heretic ? Well, Pere Ambroise reflected with a broad smile, that alternative would furnish him with a rod to hold over the stubborn head of M. le Capitaine. The good father's fat sides shook a little with silent laughter as he drew rein at the gate of the chateau. Ame de St. Denis ! he would make M. de Baudri dance to a pretty tune before the Intendant ; there were compensations, no matter what the result. The sentry the same young man who had been disciplined by Babet received the priest with respect ; his instructions had not mentioned Pere Ambroise, and the stout, black-robed figure ambled placidly up the gravel path and entered by way of the kitchen. This was empty, for Babet had deserted her fortress for the moment to wait on her young mistress. The priest pro- 2l6 THE COBBLER OF N?MES ceeded through the house and was greeted at the stairs by Truffe, who knew him. He climbed up in a leisurely way, panting at each step, and, entering the sitting-room, found Rosa- line and her faithful attendant. The young girl hailed his entrance with relief and hope, and something like life came back into her white face. Pere Ambroise was touched by her evident confidence in his good will, and seating himself comfortably, he dismissed Babet with a placid air of authority that sent her fuming to the kitchen, where she resumed her task of heat- ing the fire-irons. She was determined not to be taken unawares, and the sentry perfectly ac- quainted with her occupation kept his dis- tance and bided his time. Meanwhile, in response to a few well-directed questions, Rosaline told her story, which was substantially the same as the one already re- cited by le Bossu. A man less keen than Perc Ambroise would have detected her resolution in her manner, and he was not unprepared for her answer when he asked her what she intended to do. She was standing in front of him, her "MORTIS PORTIS FRACTIS" 2 1/ hands clasped loosely before her, and her head erect, but her face was like marble, white and still. " I have no choice, man ptre" she said, in a low voice ; " no one cares for a heretic. It is my duty to save my grandmother. I cannot let her die for my happiness ! Mon Dien / what a monster I should be ! I must consent to M. de Baudri's terms, and then " she paused, draw- ing a deep breath and her clear blue eyes looked out, away toward the grim mountains of the north, " and then I know that the bon Dieu will release me. He will send me death sweet death for my bridegroom ! " Pere Ambroise regarded her thoughtfully. For his times, he was a liberal man, and he did not immediately foresee hell fires. He saw only a pure and defenceless girl, and his heart smote him. " The bon Dieu is offended with you for heresy, Rosaline," he remarked calmly ; " that is the cause of your misfortunes." Rosaline looked at him searchingly ; she had long ago weighed Pere Ambroise and found him wanting. 2l8 THE COBBLER OF N?MES " He is my Judge," she replied, and closed her lips firmly. It was not the hour for religious controversy, and the priest knew it; he pursed up his lips and was silent. But she had a purpose at heart, and not even his frowns discouraged it. " Pere Ambroise," she said, " I want to go into Nimes now at once to see my grand- mother. I will consent to nothing until I do you can get this favor for me I ask nothing else, but oh, do this. for me ! " Pere Ambroise had been considering many things, and he was not unwilling to listen to so reasonable a desire. Indeed, he had been think- ing with some pity of poor old Madame de St. Cyr. "It shall be done," he said, " but not until M. de Baudri comes ; I have no authority, but he cannot refuse this at my request." Rosaline thanked him without emotion ; the girl's passionate grief and rebellion had spent itself in a night of agony ; she had reached the dead level of despair. She still believed her lover to be a prisoner, for Babet had been too wise to hold out uncertain hopes, and Rosaline " MORTIS PORTIS FRACTIS" 2 19 had made up her mind to sacrifice herself for her two loved ones, and the sacrifice she con- templated was worse to her than death. No victim was ever prepared to be laid on the altar with a greater vigil of misery. She would have died gladly, but this was far more terrible and more degrading. She was in a stupor of misery, but yet too wise to expect relief from Pere Ambroise. His point of view and hers were sundered as widely as the poles. To him it was only an undesirable step toward her conversion, and a certain way of saving her life. It was early, and the placid father left the victim to her reflections and, proceeding to the pantry, foraged with some comfort. He was too intimately acquainted with Babet's pe- culiarities to approach her at such a moment with a demand for breakfast, but he managed to comfort the inner man with the remains of a cold chicken pasty and a salad, and some more diligent search unearthed a small bottle of eau- de-vie, so that he emerged from his seclusion, at last, wiping his lips and with an air of satisfac- tion. After this, he mounted his spectacles and 22O THE COBBLER OF NfMES searched Madame de St. Cyr's little library for heretical books, but the old gentlewoman had been too cautious to be so easily betrayed, and he found nothing of interest. Thus it happened that when M. de Baudri arrived at ten o'clock he found Pere Ambroise in possession, and fell to cursing his luck, know- ing well enough that the priest had both the will and the power to hamper his designs. He held the corpulent father in supreme contempt, but he dared not insult him at a time when the priests were supreme, nor could he drive Rosa- line to extremities while she had such a respect- able protector. M. de Baudri was a keen man, and he saw that a few concessions might gain an ally, while insolence would make an undesir- able enemy. There was no hope of his marry- ing Rosaline if Pere Ambroise chose to declare her a heretic and have her shut up in a convent. The priest held the winning card and knew it, and it took him only half an hour to arrange that the young girl should accompany him to see her grandmother, under the escort of M. de Baudri and his dragoons. Before eleven, therefore, they were on the "MORTIS PORTIS FRACT7S" 221 road to Nimes. A carnage had been obtained at St. Ce"saire, and the priest, Rosaline, and Babet sat within it, while M. de Baudri rode beside it and a guard of dragoons followed at a short distance. Rosaline felt herself to be on the way to an open grave, and she leaned back in her corner with closed eyes. No one spoke, and the drive was taken in silence. Finally they passed through the Porte de France and then proceeded more slowly through the streets. The noises of the city aroused the poor girl a little, and she looked out, only to shrink again from the curious stare of the crowd. On the carriage went, turning at last into a long street and then stopping at the door of the common jail. Happily for Rosaline, she did not recog- nize t it, though she shuddered as she passed under the grim portal with Pere Ambroise. They were alone, the others remaining without, and they were admitted with but little parley. Like a somnambulist, the girl passed through a gloomy corridor and saw the jailer unfastening the bolts of a strong door. The man threw it open and stood back, and Rosaline did not heed his remark to the priest. 222 THE COBBLER OF NJMES " You are just in time, mon ph'e, " he said, with a brutal laugh. They stood at the entrance of a narrow cell lighted by one small window, and on the wretched pallet lay the motionless form of Madame de St. Cyr. At the sight of her grand- mother's face Rosaline awoke from her dream and running forward, fell on her knees beside her with a cry of surprise and anguish. Pere Ambroise hastily closed the door behind him ; he did not need to look a second time to see that M. de Baudri was to be defrauded of one victim. " Speak to me, grand'm^re," Rosaline cried pitifully. " Oh, mon Dieu, why did I ask for one night to decide? Twelve hours ago I might have saved her ! " The sound of a beloved voice often rouses even the dying ; Madame de St. Cyr stirred and opened her eyes. They dwelt lovingly on the girl for a moment, and then memory returned and an expression of horror came into her face. " Merciful Heaven ! " she gasped, rallying her forces. "Are you here, my darling? now is death bitter indeed ! " "MORTIS PORTIS FRACTIS" 22$ " She is safe," Pere Ambroise interposed, his heart touched at last; " I will protect her." The old woman gave him a look of ineffable gratitude; she was almost beyond speech, but she laid one hand feebly on Rosaline's head, and her lips moved as she blessed her. " Thank the bon Dieu" she murmured faintly, " the old tree was cut down and the flower spared ! Weep not, my child. Beyond there is peace." Rosaline's slender frame was shaken with agony. " Live for me, grand 'mtre!" she cried ; " now indeed am I desolate and I would have saved But the end was too near for the dying woman to understand ; she sank back with closed eyes and Pere Ambroise began to recite the prayer for the dying. In his emotion he forgot that she was a heretic. Rosaline clung to her in an agony of grief and self-abnegation, " Oh, let me save you ! " she cried ; "live that I may die for you ! " Madame opened her eyes, there was a placid smile on her face, she had forgotten all the 224 THE COBBLER OF N?ME$> terror and the pain, prison walls held her no more. " There is no anguish," she said softly, look- ing away into space, " only light my husband my son the ban Dieu be praised there shall be peace ! " She spoke no more ; there was no sound but Pere Ambroise's Latin and Rosaline's weeping. The dying woman lay still, and the clear eyes still looked triumphantly beyond this world's agony, and almost without a sigh the gentle soul escaped from prison. Death, the Deliv- erer, opened the gates CHAPTER XX THE COBBLER'S FAITH PERE AMBROISE was plentifully supplied with this world's goods, and he had a house of his own in Nimes, not a hundred yards from the Esplanade, where he lived in comfort and se- curity, with no fear of the Camisard raids. To the right of the door of this house was a com- fortable room, furnished with many luxuries: soft rugs, deep arm-chairs, tapestry-hangings, a huge fireplace, where the logs burned cheerfully on the great andirons. And here Pere Am- broise sat entertaining M. de Baudri over a bottle of rare wine, on the evening of that event- ful day. They had both dined well, and the good father's rubicund face wore an expression of satisfaction, while his guest was visibly dis- contented. The fact was that Pere Ambroise was in command of the situation, and he had forced the soldier to yield at all points. At that moment Rosaline was secure in one of his upper rooms, and he was in a position to dictate 15 226 THE COBBLER OF NJMES his own terms. If he chose he could declare her a heretic and immure her in a convent for life; M. de Baudri's only chances of being a bridegroom lay in his ability to propitiate the priest. Nothing could have been more distaste- ful to the soldier than this unexpected turn of affairs ; he was accustomed to command and not to sue, and now he was forced to persuade a man who disliked him to look at things from his point of view. He cursed his luck in secret, and tried to smile over his wine ; never had he been more neatly balked in his purposes nor by a more contemptible enemy. Meanwhile Pere Ambroise leaned back in his chair and regarded him from between his half-closed lids, mightily diverted by the other's discomfi- ture, and not yet entirely decided on his own course. He was not sure that it would be a merciful thing to shut Rosaline up in a convent for life, and Pere Ambroise was one of those men who cannot be ill-natured after a good dinner. He raised his wine-glass in his fat fingers and held it before the candle that he might admire the delicate amber color of the wine before he drank it, and all his movements THE COBBLER'S FAITH 22/ were deliberate and comfortable. His placidity goaded M. de Baudri to the verge of murder. " You cannot marry a heretic, my son," Pere Ambroise remarked pleasantly ; " therefore you must either allow her to go to her fate which, by the way, is of your preparing or wait until she is converted." " Dame ! do you take me for a fool ? " ex- claimed his companion. " How long have you been at this hopeful business of conversion? " " Only since I have known her to be a her- etic," the priest replied composedly. " Sacristi ! convert a heretic!" de Baudri laughed; "how many are ever converted?" " Large numbers in some circumstances," Pere Ambroise said, with a broad smile ; " 't is said that Du Chayla had a basement full of con- verts when their misguided friends arose and murdered him at Pont-de-Montvert ; a poor re- quital for his zeal, monsieur. As for myself," he waved his fat hands, " I am a man of peace, and I have ever labored to save these misguided people from violence." M. de Baudri was leaning his el>ow on the table, staring gloomily at the floor. 228 THE COBBLER OF N?MES " Mhe de Dieu ! " he said bitterly ; " they are all only fit for hanging." " Perhaps you would prefer to hang made- moiselle," his companion remarked, refilling his glass cautiously, for he did not wish to disturb his brain with the fumes of liquor. M. de Baudri looked at him darkly. " I do her great honor in offering to marry her," he said harshly. Pere Ambroise nodded his head approvingly, and took a sip of wine. " Assuredly," he said ; " so great an honor that I am inclined to prevent you. A true son of the Church should not wed a heretic. The proper destination for her is a convent." The younger man swore under his breath. " You old fox, you, " he exclaimed, " you do not want me to marry the girl I believe you want her yourself! " Pere Ambroise turned his eyes piously toward heaven. "The saints forbid!" he murmured. "You have an unbridled tongue, mon fils, and deserve discipline for offering an insult to one in holy orders." THE COBBLER'S FAITH 22Q The officer laughed. "Dame, you old rogue ! " he said, " do you fat fathers take us for fools? Hark!" he added sharply, pausing to listen, "what is that? I heard the dog bark." " Rosaline's poodle," replied the priest, undis- turbed. M. de Baudri was suspicious. " Have you got her secure?" he demanded imperiously. " Absolutely secure," retorted his companion, indifferently; "my servants are faithful, and her door is fastened by an oaken bar too strong for two women to force. Compose yourself, mon fits; you consented to this respite; she was to have until eight to-morrow morning for reflec- tion, and she has reason enough to make good use of the time. Her grandmother is dead and she has no defender but me. She will not re- sist my authority, but you take a strange way to propitiate me and obtain my good offices." M. de Baudri gnawed his lip with a lowering expression on his face. " I shall have to come to your terms, I sup- pose, mon ptre" he said at last with an effort to appear congenial. " That is more to the point," Pere Ambroise 230 THE COBBLER OF N^MES remarked pleasantly, and leaned over to fill his guest's glass again. While these two worthies talked and drank, a very different scene was being enacted in the second story of the house. Here, in a large back room, Rosaline and Babet were confined ; the woman sitting stiffly upright in a chair by the table, where the candles were set, while Rosaline had thrown herself face downward on the bed, in a silent agony of grief and despair. Between the two was the black poodle Truffe, her ears pointed, silent and watchful after the fashion of dogs in new places. Babet ventured upon no consolation ; she stared grimly before her with unwinking eyes. She was thinking of her own fate ; there was no one to interpose for her, and her destiny was probably the Tour de Constance. She tried to recall all she had heard of this fearful prison at Aiguemortes, of the malarious swamps about it, of the smells that arose at low tide, of the hideous cruelties practised in its loathsome dungeons, of the sick and dying, whose bodies were denied decent burial. Grim and strong as old Babet was, her cheek blanched at the thought, THE COBBLER'S FAITH 2$l and, for the moment, she forgot even her ewe- lamb. (^The most unselfish soul must fight its own battle sometime, to the exclusion of all else.) Meanwhile Rosaline lay there with her face hidden on her arms ; her grandmother's death had bereaved her of one who might have re- mained with her, helping her to endure her lot, for she hoped for no release ; she must pur- chase her lover's liberty and life at the expense of her own happiness. M. de Baudri had taken care to remind her that he still held the fate of Francois d'Aguesseau in his hand, and she knew that the sacrifice must still be made. If Francois divined it, he would refuse his life at such a cost, that she knew ; but he would never know, he might even think her false and lightly won ! But all these things were small compared with the alternative; it was not for her to send him to the gallows, or worse, to make him a galley slave, that she might escape M. de Baudri. Again she shuddered at the thought of her fate ; the lowest dungeons of the Tour de Constance would be heaven compared with such a marriage ! She shrank from it as 232 THE COBBLER OF NJMES all pure women shrink from any marriage that is not founded on the highest and purest motives. Her very flesh rebelled against her spirit, and she lay there shivering, like one stricken with ague. Yet strong is love; she must save him, and then, oh, she prayed the bon Dieu to release her ! In spite of all this misery, time passed. The house was quiet, no sounds came from below, and practical Babet began to wonder what time it was. There was no clock in the room, and she could not conjecture the hour; it seemed as if they had been there an age. Just at this moment she heard some one lift the bar out- side the door, and Truffe barked. Babet pounced upon her, muffled her head in her petticoat, and then she listened intently. The visitor could not enter, for she had secured the door within. There was a soft knock on the panels, and Rosaline rose with a white face, and stood waiting. The knock was repeated, and some one spoke their names very low. The voice seemed familiar, and the young girl went to the door and listened again. " Mademoiselle de St. Cyr," the visitor whis- THE COBBLER'S FAITH 233 pered, "open the door 'tis I, Chariot the cobbler." Babet uttered an exclamation, and Rosaline unfastened the lock and admitted the hunch- back. He looked old and worn, and carried his green bag, and he paused just inside the door, looking from one to the other, as if he doubted his reception. "Why have you come, Chariot?" Rosaline asked sadly. " I have come to help you to get away, mademoiselle," he replied simply, hurt past reason by their indifference, but bearing it, as he bore all things, as a part of his lot. Rosaline shook her head. " I cannot go," she said, "but Babet you will save Babet, Chariot." " del !" ejaculated that woman sharply, "he will save me, will he? And what do you propose to do? " The young girl did not heed her, nor did the cobbler. " Mademoiselle," he said, " your grand- mother is dead, and M. d'Aguesseau was never captured." 234 THE COBBLER OF NtMES Rosaline stood looking at him with parted lips, her whole form quivering with emotion. " Mon Dieu /" she said, " was it a lie? " " It was," replied the cobbler quietly ; " I have sent a message to him, he is with Cavalier." She could not believe him. " Alas ! " she said, " you do this to get me away." The cobbler knelt down at her feet. " Mademoiselle," he said, looking earnestly into her face, " I swear by all I hold most sacred, that I do not deceive you. M. d'Agues- seau is at liberty, though M. de Baudri offers a hundred crowns for his head." Her strength failed her, she sank on the nearest chair, covering her face with her hands. The reaction was too great for resistance ; it seemed as if her heart would stop beating, and the room whirled about her. He was safe, and she was not required to make the sacrifice ! The effect on Babet was very different ; she released Truffe and began to gather up their scattered belongings. " How can we get out, Petit Bossu ? " she demanded grimly, "in your shoe-bag?" "The servants are feasting in the kitchen," THE COBBLER'S FAITH 235 the cobbler said. " Pere Ambroise and M. de Baudri are drinking below, and the stairs are not two yards from this door. We must trust in the bon Dien" As he spoke, he opened his bag and took out two long cloaks and hoods similar to those worn by an order of Sisters of Charity at Nimes. "Thou hast the mind of a great general, Chariot," remarked Babet, with a queer smile ; " the hump is a pity." Rosaline roused herself and looked at the disguise. " Alas ! where can we go, Chariot ? " she asked sadly ; " how can we escape them ? " " To-night you can go to my shop, mademoi- selle," he replied, quietly, " and to-morrow, as soon as the gates are open, you can start out to St. Cesaire. I have arranged with the black- smith's wife to hide you until I can guide you to to a place of safety." " It may be done," Rosaline said, after a mo- ment's thought. " I was to have till eight to- morrow ; there is one hope in a thousand but the risk to you, Chariot ! " The little hunchback smiled. " Mademoi- 236 THE COBBLER OF NfMES selle," he said quietly, " I am scarcely worth killing." The tears shone in her blue eyes, but she said nothing, partly because Babet was hurriedly muffling her in the cloak and hood. A few moments later they emerged from the room, Babet carrying Truffe under her mantle ; Chariot secured the door behind them, replac- ing the bar, and softly and cautiously they de- scended. They heard Pere Ambroise speaking, in unctuous tones, and a coarse oath from M. de Baudri, on whom the wine was having some effect, but no one heard them. The porter had left his place and the door was unbolted. Al- most without noise, the three slipped out and stood free upon the open street. CHAPTER XXI IN THE WOODS OF ST. CYR THE next morning found Chariot in his shop. He had spread his tools and leather on his bench with a pretence of work, but he was not working. He sat watching his door with eager eyes, alert and impatient. He was waiting for the return of the blacksmith's boy whom he had sent in search of d'Aguesseau. Rosaline and Babet had walked out of the gate of the town as soon as it was opened, and must be now near St. Cesaire. In le Bossu's chamber a candle burned before the Virgin, a prayer for the heretics ; such is the inconsistency of the human heart and its religion. In a week the little hunchback had grown old, and his back seemed more pitifully bowed than ever. The Intendant of Languedoc might in- deed regard him as scarcely worth the killing; ! but no man can see the naked soul of his brother, and it may be vastly different from his body ; as 238 THE COBBLER OF NfMES different as the abode on earth is from the man- sion in heaven. "It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power." It is cast in the shape of a cripple on earth, it is raised in the form of an angel.) The starved soul of le Bossu looked out of his patient eyes and saw not even a crumb of comfort falling from the rich man's table, and self sacrifice became the law of his life. He looked down at his brown, toil-worn, right hand, and tears shone in his eyes. It was sanc- tified, for she had kissed it. He shrank within himself at the thought, but in her gratitude and her relief, she had thanked him and she had even taken his hand and kissed it. Had he not de- livered her from a fate worse than death ? and was he not her humble friend and servant? Rosaline's impulse had been followed by no second thought; her whole soul was filled with the hope of escaping to her lover. And the poor little cobbler understood her, but he felt that he might fall down and worship her still. No one else had ever considered him, no one else had ever been uniformly kind to him ; in the parched desert of his life she alone had held him a cup of water. The starved and empty heart held one IN THE WOODS OF ST. CYR 239 image ; the life of so little worth was at her service. The sun was high enough now to reach the court, and the spot of light on the pavement be- gan to grow, but the weed that had blossomed in June had gone to seed and stood there yellow and lean. One of the children opposite was ill of a fever, and the other played silently, in a melancholy way, on the steps. Le Bossu's glance lighted on her and his heart was touched ; it was cruel that a heart so large in its sympathy for all sufferers should have been cast by the wayside and choked with thorns. He rose from his bench and took up a little pair of shoes, and then he opened his wallet and counted out some money ; with the shoes and the coin he crossed the court and gave them to the little girl for her sick sister. The child stared at him wide-eyed ; she had shown him as little mercy as the others, and had looked upon the hunchback as unlike other human beings. She had not the sense to thank him, though she clasped his presents greedily to her breast and fled into the house, half-affrighted at the little man with his hump. The unwitting cruelty of children often hurts as 24O THE COBBLER OF N?MES much as the coarse brutality of their parents, but to-day le Bossu smiled. If his life was worth something to Rosaline de St. Cyr, it was worth all the suffering of living it; the bon Dieu had given him a blessed compensation. He was returning to the shop of Two Shoes when another man entered the court. The cob- bler looked about anxiously, for he had been dreading the possible appearance of Pere Am- broise or one of M. de Baudri's emissaries, but a second glance reassured him, for he came face to face with Francois d'Aguesseau. The hunch- back signed to him to follow him in to his shop and then closed the door. "Where is she?" demanded d'Aguesseau, in an agitated tone. * I received your message, and I am here." The cobbler looked at him strangely. " Did you come to release mademoiselle single- handed?" he asked quietly. " I came to save her if mortal man can do it," he retorted sternly. " It may be that they will take me in exchange ; I hear that there is a price on my head but, mon Dieu ! where is she?" IN THE WOODS OF ST. CYR 2\\ His face was haggard and his dress much dis- ordered. It was evident that he had not paused for either rest or food. " She is at St. Cesaire, I trust," the cobbler replied calmly ; " she and Babet got away from Pere Ambroise's house last night and started this morning in disguise for St. Cesaire." He made no mention of his share in the deliverance, and Francois jumped to another conclusion. " Faithful Babet ! " he exclaimed joyfully ; " doubtless she planned it all. I will follow them at once." " You must meet them at the appointed spot, not elsewhere," said the cobbler. " I was to meet them between the bridge and the cataract, at the spot where the old mulberry stands. Do you recall it?" " Perfectly," replied d'Aguesseau, " but why there ? " " Because they are to hide at St. Cesaire until afternoon ; then, if there is no pursuit to St. Cyr, they can start without being observed. If the chateau is too closely guarded, they will wait until night," he added; "but it will not be, for 16 242 THE COBBLER OF NJMES no one will think of their return to the close vicinity of danger; it is Nimes that will be searched for them." " But why can I not go straight to them now? " Francois demanded impatiently. The cobbler sighed. " Monsieur," he said patiently, " every house, every cottage is watched, and if you are recognized " He broke off with an expressive gesture. " I see," d' Aguesseau replied ; " you are a wise man, Petit Bossu. Tell me about Madame de St. Cyr." " She died yesterday in the jail here," the hunchback answered ; " the shock of the arrest and mademoiselle's danger ended her life." D'Aguesseau clenched his hand. " Mon Dieu ! " he exclaimed, " how long wilt Thou afflict us? how long?" " It was best so," the cobbler remarked quietly. " If she had lived, Mademoiselle Rosaline would have sacrificed herself to save her. She believed that you and her grandmother were both cap- tives ; M. de Baudri told her so, and promised to save your lives to release you both only on the condition that she should marry him." IN THE WOODS OF ST. CYR 243 " The accursed villain ! " broke out Frangois, laying his hand on his sword : " may I be spared to chastise him ! " He walked to and fro in the little room in suppressed fury ; all the fierce impulses of a bold and daring nature were aroused. "Dieu!" he exclaimed, in a low tone, "I cannot go to England for Cavalier ; I must stay and fight this monster ! " " Nay," remarked le Bossu, gravely, " you must save Mademoiselle de St. Cyr." Frangois came to himself. " I ought not to need you to remind me," he said. " I will go at once to the appointed place and wait ; it is not long now, but, in the meantime, is she safe?" "We can only trust in Providence," replied the cobbler, " since to approach her would in- crease her risks. But pardon me, monsieur if you stay much longer in Nimes, you will be arrested." " I know it," he replied ; " I thought only of her when I came, but I must get away now for her sake. Chariot, I thank you," he said, hold- ing out his hand; "I do not know why you 244 THE COBBLER OF NfMES should do so much for us who are, in your eyes, heretics and criminals." The hunchback smiled as he returned the pressure of d'Aguesseau's hand. " Life is a mystery," he rejoined, with a new dignity that became him well, " and so is death." He went with Francois down the Rue St. Antoine and stood at the gate watching him until his figure disappeared on the long white road. Later le Bossu would go himself to keep the appointment, for he too had an errand there ; nor could he rest until he knew that mademoiselle was safely out of the neighbor- hood of Nimes. But there was time yet, and he wanted to know what Pere Ambroise intended to do, and where M. de Baudri would next cast his net. Meanwhile, out at St. Ce*saire, Babet and Rosaline were safely hidden in the blacksmith's house. It was a little cottage on the outskirts of the village, and from the rear the inmates could easily reach the woods about St. Cyr. The smith had been a faithful though humble friend to the family at the chateau, and like many others, he was a concealed Huguenot. IN THE WOODS OF ST. CYR 245 He and his wife therefore gladly ministered to Rosaline's comfort and set a simple dinner of pot-au-feu before their two guests. Babet and Truffe did ample justice to the meal, but Rosa- line could not eat, in spite of Babet's remon- strances. The young girl was frantic to be off, to fly to her lover, that they might seek safety together ; and she had not the older woman's prudence, who felt that another dinner might be a long way off, and who did not believe pro- foundly in the culinary accomplishments of the Cevenols. The hour came at last, and bidding her faith- ful friends, the smith and his wife, adieu, Rosa- line set out with her escort, Babet and the dog. Nothing had occurred to alarm them or to indi- cate that their hiding-place was suspected, and the blacksmith's boy, employed for scout duties, brought in the report that St. Cyr had been deserted since the previous day, when Rosaline had left it. The two women entered the place, therefore, with lighter hearts. Babet was deter- mined to enter the chateau, if possible, to secure Madame de St. Cyr's jewels and a considerable sum of money that had been secreted to provide 246 THE COBBLER OF N$MES for just such an emergency; for they had for many years expected to be denounced as Huguenots. Rosaline was to remain near the hedge that surrounded the garden, to warn Babet if any one approached, while the older and stronger woman went for madame's iron box. Rosaline doubted the wisdom of the attempt, yet neither of the two women cared to face the wilderness without money to pay for either shelter or food, and it was impossible to open the secret place where the box was while the dragoons lurked about the house. They approached the chateau with great caution, listening and watching, but no one ap- peared, not a leaf stirred, and Rosaline's doves were cooing in the sun. " Ah, my poor birds," she said sadly. " I am glad that the blacksmith's good wife will take them ; otherwise I should feel as if I were leav- ing them to perish." Babet did not pause to listen to these senti- ments. Being sure that no one was about, she entered the garden, followed by Truffe, who dashed eagerly along, anxious to be at home again. Still there were no sounds or signs of IN THE WOODS OF ST. CYR 247 humanity, and advancing with a firmer step, Babet entered the house unmolested. Meanwhile Rosaline, left alone outside of the hedge, walked to and fro in the shade of the mul- berries, watching the place and beginning to feel easier when she heard no sound, for she knew that Truffe's bark would have announced the presence of strangers. It would take Babet some little time, and Rosaline walked further on among the trees ; this might be the last time that she would ever approach the home of her childhood, and her heart was very sad. Thoughts of her grandmother thronged into her mind, and she lived over again the agony of yesterday. Absorbed in her painful revery, she forgot her surroundings, and unconsciously strayed farther into the wood. Here it was thickest; the tree trunks clustered closely and the shadows lay about her; beyond, a broad band of sunlight fell athwart the green shade. The moss under her feet was thick and brown, and already the leaves were falling. Suddenly some one sprang upon her from behind, strong fingers clasping her throat and choking back the cries that rose to her lips. 248 THE COBBLER OF N$MES She resisted with all her might, but her unseen foe was stronger than she, and forced her for- ward. In vain she strove to call for help, to evade the clutching arms ; then her foot caught in the gnarled root of a mulberry tree and she fell, face downward, with those terrible hands still at her throat. Then the shock of the fall, the horror of her situation, and a choking sensa- tion overcame her and she lost consciousness. CHAPTER XXII THE OLD WINDMILL WHEN Rosaline came to herself it was with a bewildered recollection of some horrible event, and, for a few moments, she was scarcely con- scious of her surroundings. Then she opened her eyes and tried to move, but she could not. She was in a sitting posture, her hands and feet tied, and a rope, slipped under her arms, held her securely against a wall behind her. The discovery of her situation roused all her dormant faculties, and she looked about her, trying to find out where she was. She saw above her head familiar rafters, and then she discovered the door closed opposite her, and recognized the old windmill, near which Fran- cois and she had spent those hours of happi- ness, so cruelly interrupted. The light in the place was very dim, and the poor girl could not at first see plainly in all the corners. She thought herself alone and wondered where her 250 THE COBBLER OF N?MES captor was, and what was to come next. Then the hope that her cries might bring help began to rise in her heart, and she was on the point of screaming aloud, when a sound struck her ear that froze her blood in her veins. It was a laugh, but it sounded like a fiendish chuckle. It came from her right hand, and she turned her head quickly and looked into the face of Mere Tigrane. An exclamation of horror and fear burst from Rosaline's heart, and she shrieked for help help ! and the old fishwife laughed and rocked to and fro. She was sitting on an old log, in the dim cor- ner, and she was quite undisturbed by her prisoner's cries. " Shriek away, mademoiselle ! " she said pleasantly. " Ciel ! what a voice she has ! But no one will hear you except dear old Mere Tigrane." Rosaline's heart sank; it might be too true, for they had arranged to avoid the mill because strangers sometimes strayed there. She must have been carried to it, in this fearful woman's arms, for it was a considerable distance from the spot where she had fainted. She sank back THE OLD WINDMILL 2$l against the wall with a groan ; she knew it was useless to appeal to this horrible creature; just such wretched women made a living by inform- ing against the Huguenots, and there was no mercy in them. Rosaline did not know what to do; it was useless to plead with Mere Tigrane, and it seemed useless, too, to hope for rescue; moreover, the girl had conceived such a horror of the old witch, such a scorn of her vileness, that she could not endure the sight of her. She closed her eyes and prayed silently, but she made no sign of begging for mercy. Her face was like a white rose in the dim light, and her hair lay in a pale aureole about her brow; but, with all her agony, she bore herself proudly. La Louve sat on her log and watched, gloat- ing over her and running her red tongue along the edge of her lips. "Art comfortable, my lady-bird?" she asked amiably. " What ! so proud that you will not speak to poor Mere Tigrane? And what do you suppose I intend to do with such a fine lady, eh?" Rosaline opened her eyes and looked at her 252 THE COBBLER OF NIMES with an effort, her soul rilled with loathing, and the old hag saw it in her face and hated her for it. " God knows what you want of me," Rosaline said. " I have never harmed you, and I cannot tell why you so misuse me." " You never harmed me ! " la Louve cried, throwing up her bony hands. "Dame! you are a peril to my soul, you little heretic ! " Rosaline read the evil look in the hag's eyes and knew that she would never relent; and so great was her own abhorrence that it was well- nigh impossible to look at her again. ( She turned her eyes toward the door, therefore, and closed her lips; she had no hope save in heaven. " How would mademoiselle like the Tour de Constance?" Mere Tigrane inquired pleasantly, " T is a healthful place and full of her friends. Dame de Dieu, what an opportunity to travel without pay from Nimes to Aiguemortes ! " She stopped and looked at the girl eagerly, trying to discover what emotions were stirring in the heart of her victim, longing for tears and entreaties ; but Rosaline sat like a statue. THE OLD WINDMILL 253 " Nom de St. Denis ! " she exclaimed at last, " how proud mademoiselle is, an aristocrat ! But 't is not the Tour de Constance, ma cherie" she added, with a mocking laugh. " No, no, there must be a better fate for such a lovely prisoner. Dame! but your flesh is white I could eat it. How much does mademoiselle think that M. de Baudri would pay for such a prize? " " Dieu ! " cried Rosaline, shaken out of her resolve, "are you a woman? Is it possible that the bon Dieu put such a heart in a woman ? " "A woman, my pretty?" retorted the hag, with a peal of wild laughter. " Ay and once a pretty one ! Now you see what I am and you are like to live to be like me, unless I wring that pretty, white throat now ! I am a woman, morbleu, yes this is what a woman becomes ! " and she crooked her talon ringers pointing at herself. "Do you think I will pity you? Dame, I would see you burn this minute with joy, you little white fool ! " Rosaline nerved herself to bear it without tears ; she struggled hard to ward off the faint- 254 THE COBBLER OF NJMES ness that stole upon her, clasping her heart in a vice. "What do you mean to do with me?" she asked, in a strange voice, her eyes chained now by a horrible fascination to the old hag's face. " Sell you, my sweetheart," Mere Tigrane retorted, showing her fangs, " to the highest bidder in Nimes. Dame, you are pretty enough to keep poor Mere Tigrane's pot boiling for a year or two, my sweetie." " God will not let you do it ! " cried Rosaline, with white lips ; " I am His." La Louve shrieked with laughter. " You heretic ! " she said gleefully, " you are the devil's body and soul my fine lady, and you will wish yourself in hell presently, I doubt not, ma cherie ! Next time you drive Mere Tigrane away with her fish, I think you will not hold that little head so high." "Mon Dien /" cried Rosaline, in amazement, " is it possible that my one little act has made you hate me so ? " Mere Tigrane shook her head, wagging it slowly from side to side. "No," she replied, THE OLD WINDMILL 2$$ " I hate you for living ; I hate all men and all women and all children. I would blast them if I could ; I live on hatred ! Mtre de Dieu ! how I love to see a heretic burn ! " Rosaline closed her eyes with a shudder, and la Louve sat looking at her thoughtfully, with a greedy eye. Dame ! but she would make money out of this dainty morsel. She had an eye for beauty, and she knew its market value. She was even content to let her victim rest a little, while she turned over in her own mind many business matters. She could not get the girl back to Nimes before night, for she had no intention of having her prize snatched from her by any adventurer upon the road. She was not without uneasiness too, for M. de Baudri might yet come to St. Cyr, and, if he did, his search would be thorough and she was likely to lose her pay. Yet her scheme had worked so far like a charm. She had seen Babet and Rosaline leave Nimes ; their disguise had not deceived her ferret eyes, and she had tracked them to St. Ce"saire and from St. Ce"saire to the chateau, for she possessed the patient watchful- ness of a fiend. Her success had surpassed her 256 THE COBBLER OF N?MES most sanguine hopes, and she gloated over it with savage delight. She knew that she was strong enough to deal with Babet, and for the present she looked for no other interference. The silence that had fallen upon the little mill was almost more oppressive to Rosaline than the hag's dreadful talk ; the girl felt as if she could not endure it longer, her heart throbbed heavily, there was a choking sensation in her throat and it seemed as if she could not draw another breath. And then she struggled in her bonds and shrieked aloud, for she heard Truffe's short bark. Her scream was answered just as Mere Tigrane sprang upon her and thrust a rag into her mouth as a gag. The fish- wife was furious, though she expected no one but Babet. "Dame!" she ejaculated, drawing a knife from her bosom, " I '11 make short work of the woman and the cur ! " The mill door had stood open too long on rusty hinges to be easily secured, and she had only been able to lay an old timber across it. She took her position therefore, ready to strike, just as the door was shaken from without and THE OLD WINDMILL 2$? pushed heavily inward. It resisted the first attempt, and she burst out into shrill laughter ; but a second push sent the timber rolling back a foot, and the third opened the door wide enough to admit not Babet, but the cobbler. Mere Tigrane, taken by surprise, withheld her knife, but when Babet followed him she struck a vicious blow at le Bossu. "Diable!" she shrieked. "Petit Bossu! take yourself off this is my game ! " Chariot quietly thrust his hand into his breast and drew out a pistol, levelling it at the hag's head. " If you move one finger," he said grimly, " you are dead. Babet, take her knife and loose mademoiselle." But Babet would not touch her. She made a wide circle to avoid any contact, and drawing a knife from her own wallet, began to cut the bands about Rosaline's feet and hands, all the while pouring out a torrent of sympathy and self-reproach. Why had she left her lamb to fall among wolves? Rosaline was too faint for any words except a murmur of thanksgiving, and the air was filled 17 258 THE COBBLER OF NJMES with Mere Tigrane's oaths as she writhed help- less before le Bossu's pistol. He was watching Babet. " Do not cut the long rope," he said grimly ; " untie it we have need of it." At this, la Louve began to howl, rocking to and fro. " You villain ! " she whined, " you dare not hang me! M. de Baudri is coming; you will be punished " She went on with a stream of oaths. Le Bossu stopped her. " Another word," he said, " and I '11 shoot you. You will not be hung, though you deserve it. Babet, stuff those dirty rags in her mouth, we have heard enough." k Babet obeyed this time, first relieving the hag of her knife and binding her hands. " There 's some dinner for you to chew, my beauty," Babet said pleasantly, and proceeded to tie her feet. "Now the rope," ordered the cobbler; " slip it twice around her waist that is it; draw her back to the post and tie it securely." He helped Babet in this, putting the pistol THE OLD WINDMILL 259 back into his bosom. Mere Tigrane was black in the face with rage, but she could offer no resistance; only, her terrible eyes leered at them red as blood. Rosaline had gone out and was leaning against a tree, her face colorless and her hands clasped. When the others joined her, she turned and threw her arms about Babet and burst into tears, too overcome to speak. The woman tried to comfort and soothe her. "'Twas Truffe who found you," she said, " bless the creature ! The cobbler and I would have been searching still, but suddenly she put her nose to the ground and came straight as an arrow ! " Le Bossu was not listening to them ; he had walked a few yards into the wood and knelt down, bending his head close to the ground. When he arose his face was white and he moved quickly toward them. " Have courage, mademoiselle," he said quietly, " but let us begone, there are horsemen in the road by St. Cyr; the dragoons have returned." CHAPTER XXIII THE COBBLER'S BARGAIN THE two women and le Bossu had followed the course of the stream, walking rapidly along the bank, and now they descended the rocky path by the cataract. They were travelling west and the afternoon sun shone full in their faces; the wind was blowing too, a chill November wind that swept the leaves from the chestnut trees and dropped the empty burrs. They had not wasted breath in words, and now le Bossu left them and ran forward, looking under the lowest branches ; then he whistled softly. There was a response, and Babet and Rosaline stopped in alarm ; they expected no one. The next moment, however, a tall figure came rapidly towards them and Rosaline recog- nized her lover. She gave a little sob of joy and ran to meet him, the dog bounding beside her. They met a few yards in front of the others and he caught her in his arms, support- THE COBBLER'S BARGAIN 26 1 ing her trembling form. Le Bossu looked but once; in their joy they had forgotten him, He turned his back and approached Babet, putting a small but heavy bag in her hands. " That is mademoiselle's," he said calmly ; "guard it well. And now go on in God's name ! Do not let them tarry, for Death is behind them." Babet had learned to value the poor little hunchback, but she was sober and undemon- strative. "Where are you going?" she asked bluntly. He pointed to the woods. " Back," he said, " to keep them from finding Mere Tigrane who would set them on your track. I will delay them all I can." " It is well," Babet remarked, " you are a good man, Chariot ; the bon Dieu will bless you. I suppose you do not want the blessing of a heretic? " He smiled. " Do not tarry," he said, warn- ingly. "Keep straight to the west; M. d'Aguesseau will guide you. Adieu ! " He looked once more toward the lovers, but they were still absorbed in each other. The 262 THE COBBLER OF NJMES cobbler turned sadly away, and climbing the steep path was lost to sight among the trees before Rosaline knew that he had gone ; and he never heard her thanks, never knew her remorse because she had, for the moment, for- gotten him in her own joy. There was no time for her to redeem her error; there was only time to flee on and on, with a terrible danger pursuing them and lurking for them at every step. Meanwhile le Bossu went back through the woods. His heart was full, but he was not without a feeling of joy. So far she was safe, and he had just given Babet all his savings. His years of patient labor had not been in vain if his money could help Rosaline now. He would have liked to speak to her, to touch her hand; but what was he? Le Bossu, le savetier, the beggarly cripple of St. Antoine ! It was enough, and more than enough, to serve her. Dieu / would his wretched lameness keep him from reaching the windmill before the dragoons? He walked fast, urging his energies to the utmost, but the way seemed long indeed. A picture of her in her lover's arms, with the THE COBBLER'S BARGAIN 263 sunshine on her hair, rose before his eyes and he set his teeth. What was it to him ? He was only a hunchbacked cobbler, he could scarcely be made of the same clay that they were, yet his starved soul cried out. Now and then he stooped down and listened, but the place was silent save for the rustling of the wind amid the dead leaves ; winter was coming. At last, the mill ! He did not pause after assuring himself that la Louve was still secure ; he fastened the door as tightly as he could and sped on toward the chateau. Fortune smiled upon him ; he was just in time. Not twenty yards away he came upon M. de Baudri and a couple of dragoons. The hunchback was halted by a sharp challenge, but the soldiers looked indifferent when they recognized him. Their commander was in a black temper, and he ordered the cobbler to approach. " What are you doing here, Petit Bossu ? " he demanded fiercely. " Out with all you know, or " He drew his hand expressively across his throat. Chariot assumed an attitude of profound respect, his eyes on the ground. 264 THE COBBLER OF NJMES " I am monsieur's humblest servant," he said, " I have been over yonder to sell my shoes in St. Ce"saire, and I came here to look about monsieur understands, the place is open, the house of heretics ; the poor cobbler thought to find some trifle left by the soldiers." " It would be a devilish small thing if they left it ! " retorted M. de Baudri, with a grim smile. "Look, you little beast, no trifling these heretics have escaped. Have you seen them?" The cobbler assumed an air of importance. " My life is valuable to me, monsieur," he said, " and if I tell, the Camisards may kill me, as they kill the cur6s ; nevertheless, for the sake of my soul Monsieur, will the Intendant pay?" "Diable!" shouted de Baudri; "pay! I can pay if I choose, but I '11 shoot you if you trifle." " I will guide you, monsieur," the cobbler replied, with a stubborn air, " but I will have pay for the risk, a hundred crowns." De Baudri burst out with a volley of oaths, but he flung some money at the hunchback. "There is some, beast," he said coarsely ; THE COBBLER'S BARGAIN 26$ " and you shall have the rest if you find the girl, Rosaline de St. Cyr." The cobbler gathered up the money and counted it with greedy fingers, M. de Baudri watching him with scornful eyes. "You promise the rest, monsieur?" le Bossu persisted, with a shrewd look. " Dame ! " retorted the other ; " you '11 get it and hell too, if you don't make haste. Where are these women ? " The hunchback drew closer to him, lowering his voice and speaking with his hand before his mouth. " You shall have them all, monsieur," he said, " the girl, the old woman, M. d'Aguesseau, and the dog ! " " Bien ! " exclaimed de Baudri cheerfully ; " you shall have your hundred crowns. Viens done, show me the way ! " The hunchback pointed toward the north. " Up yonder," he said, " behind those rocks on the hill, there is a grotto I know it by accident; there they have hidden since morn- ing. The way is long and rocky; monsieur must follow me." 266 THE COBBLER OF NJMES " Will they not see us approaching in time to fly?" he asked sharply. Le Bossu shook his head with a smile. " Nay," he replied quietly, " we must go as if we intended to take the St. Hippolyte road ; then, when we approach the spot we can sur- round them. The country is open and bare below the cave, though it lies in a little wood. They could not escape us." " Go on, then," said de Baudri, impatiently ; " to the cave or au diable ! I tell thee plainly, though, that deceit will cost thee thy life." " So be it, monsieur," rejoined the hunch- back, calmly; "and the bon Dieu judge between me and thee," he added to himself. A few sharp orders were given, the bugle was sounded, and the troopers gathered in the road, each man at his horse's head. M. de Baudri came out of the garden and leaped into the saddle; then his eyes lighted on the cobbler standing quietly in the road. " Here," he said sharply, " Petit Bossu must be mounted ; bring up a horse." " I cannot ride," said the cobbler, meekly ; " my back and my hips, monsieur, will not permit it." THE COBBLER'S BARGAIN 267 " Mille tonnerres f " ejaculated the officer, with a black frown, "you mean to walk? We shall not be there for an hour ! " " I can walk fast, at times, monsieur," replied Chariot ; " I will do my best. If you had but a cart " M. de Baudri cursed him and his deformity. " A cart ! " he said mockingly ; " a litter ! Do you suppose that dragoons drive out in car- riages; such vermin should not cumber the earth. If we miss them, Mere de Dieu, I '11 hang you ! " "We cannot miss them, monsieur," rejoined the cobbler, patiently ; " they dare not leave their lurking place in daylight, and it is yet an hour to sunset." " Dame de Dieu, let us be off! " exclaimed de Baudr. and gave the order to mount. The long line of dragoons swung into their saddles and the little cavalcade moved slowly off, with le Bossu in advance. The sun was sinking over the valley of the Vaunage, and its rays shone on the towers and spires of Nimes and sparkled on the polished steel of the soldiers' accoutrements. The hills 268 THE COBBLER OF NlMES were purple against the November sky, and clouds drifted overhead. Autumn had stripped the landscape of much of its beauty, and the arid plains about them showed but little verdure save a low growth of juniper bushes. It was not a spot to afford many places of conceal- ment, and as the little troop advanced, M. de Baudri's keen eyes swept the scene with the savage glance of a vulture seeking its prey. CHAPTER XXIV "O DEATH, WHERE IS THY STING?" AN hour later the dusty little cavalcade filed slowly up a steep and rocky hill and drew rein beside a strip of woodland on the summit. On every side the country rolled away, barren and broken with crags ; here and there a low growth of juniper bushes or a solitary fig tree, where the soil was more fertile. The dragoons dis- mounted at M. de Baudri's command and sur- rounded the spot. It would be impossible for any one to escape down that bare hillside un- seen. De Baudri's eyes burned fiercely; he thought his prey within his grasp. Le Bossu was lame from the long and weary walk, and his drawn face was white, but his expression was full of content. " A whole hour," he said to himself. " Please God she is out of reach ! " He obeyed a motion of M. de Baudri's hand and led the way into the wood. It was not 2/O THE COBBLER OF NtMES thick and there was but little underbrush, for even here the ground was rocky and unchari- table. He looked about as he walked, as if he wanted to remember even little things now; almost all the trees were chestnuts, these and mulberries growing best in the neighborhood of Nimes. He noticed the moss and the lichens, and here and there a wild vine trailed across the way. The wind blew keenly now from the north, and overhead the gray clouds hung low, but the west was glorious, the sun hanging just above the horizon. The hunchback noted all these things, and he heard the heavy tread of the men behind him, the rattle of M. de Baudri's sword. He walked on ; a great peace was filling his soul, his pulses throbbed evenly, he lifted his head ; his life was, after all, worth much, it was to pay her ransom. He came to the centre of the wood and sat down on a large rock ; before him the trees parted and he could look straight toward the west, the whole landscape at his feet. He drew M. de Baudri's money from his wallet and cast it on the ground. A suspicion had been dawning upon de Bau- dri since they had dismounted, and he halted "O DEATH, WHERE IS THY STING?" 2JI now and stared fiercely from the cobbler to the despised coins, the price of blood. " Sang de Dieu / " he thundered, " where is the grotto, slave ? " Le Bossu turned on him a calm face. " There is none, monsieur," he replied simply. De Baudri broke out with a terrible oath, drawing his sword. " You lying, humped toad ! " he said, " how dared you do this?" He made a move as if to strike him dead, and then a sudden thought checked him. " Bah ! " he ejaculated, " soil my sword with the blood of such vermin ? I am a fool. Where is the girl?" he added fiercely. " Pardieu, I will wring your neck ! " " I do not know where she is," replied le Bossu, truthfully enough, for he did not know where they were then. "And you led us here to cheat us, slave?" said de Baudri. " A fine scheme as you will learn to your cost. If I thought you knew where she was, I 'd torture it out of you with hot irons." The cobbler did not look at him ; his brown 272 THE COBBLER OF N$MES eyes dwelt on the distance, and his soul was uplifted by the approaching joy of self-sacrifice. He did not hear the abuse that M. de Baudri continued to pour upon him ; his life was pass- ing before his eyes, his wretched, abused child- hood, his sharp mortification over his physical infirmity, his silent, intense longing for friend- ship and love, his despised solitude, his hard, thankless labor ; and now it was over, and not in vain ! " Mother of God," he prayed, " comfort the wretched." He awoke to hear M. de Baudri ordering his soldiers to bring a rope. A dragoon went for a piece that was coiled on the back of one of the horses. The troopers never hunted heretics without rope. He re- turned promptly, and approaching le Bossu was slipping the noose over his head, but another scheme had occurred to the leader. " Hang him by the feet," he said coolly, pointing with his white hand to a tree. " Sacre- bleu ! 't will hurt more so." They secured the rope about the hunchback's feet while their victim watched them with calm eyes. " What matter," he thought, " if I have saved "O DEATH, WHERE IS THY STING?" 2/3 her? May the bon Dieu make my sacrifice complete ! " De Baudri watched him coolly, wondering that the rapt face was so calm. " When I give the order," he said to the soldiers, " haul him up and let him hang twenty minutes. Now, rogue, where is the girl ? " No answer; the clear eyes looked straight toward the setting sun, over the beautiful valley of the Vaunage. The radiance of the west fell on his face, as though he looked through those golden gates into Paradise. " Nom de St. Denis ! " ejaculated de Baudri, " what a stubborn fool. Now, my men ! " He raised his hand carelessly and the cripple was drawn up by the feet to the limb of a tree, his head hanging with the face to the west Ten minutes passed twenty. " Fire ! " said M. de Baudri. There was the crash of a volley, the blue smoke rose, the poor, misshapen body swung around in the red sunlight, and there was silence, broken at last by the trample of horses as the troopers mounted and rode down the hill. 18 2/4 THE COBBLER OF N?MES The sun set in a sea of gold ; the gray clouds above turned the color of a red rose ; a haze floated over Nimes. In the wood, only the dead leaves rustled as they fell. In the upper room of the shop of Two Shoes, the candle before the shrine had burned down to the very end. It flickered and flared up, a single flame in the gloom, and then it went out forever. CHAPTER XXV THE SHIP AT SEA Two weeks later a party of wayfarers came to the old mill at St. Cyr. The door was fastened, but they opened it, only to recoil with horror. They found a hideous old woman tied there. She had been dead a long while and the fearful distortion of her face sent them shrieking from the spot. Even in death Mere Tigrane had not lost her power to strike terror to the hearts of others. Not long afterwards a ship was crossing the channel to Dover, on a calm sea with a blue sky overhead. The white foam gathered in its wake and the sun glistened on its full-set sails and on the flag bearing the crosses of St. George and St. Andrew. On the deck stood Rosaline and her lover,- her husband now, for they had been wedded in the Cevennes, and near them sat Babet contentedly feeding 2/6 THE COBBLER OF NfMES Truffe with a cake. Rosaline leaned on the rail, looking back toward France. " Dear native land," she sighed softly, " I may never see you more ; yet I am con- tent. Ah, Francois, we ought to be thankful indeed. I am glad that Cavalier sent you to England; I can bear no more, and it may be we can move these strangers to help the cause." "I pray so," he replied gently; "England's queen is favorable to us. At least, you will be safe ; I could not take my wife to those rugged hiding-places in the Ce"vennes, with winter so near. Ah, my love, are you satisfied ? " She looked up with tender eyes. " I am content, my husband," she answered softly. " I bless the bon Dieu, but my heart is sore at the thought of poor Chariot. Can it be that the blacksmith's boy was mistaken? Could they really hang him for not betraying us ? " " I fear so," replied d'Aguesseau sadly ; " the report came straight enough. Let us remember, though, that it ended his suffer- ings; he told me that his life was full of pain." THE SHIP A T SEA 2?/ Rosaline looked back over the blue sea with tearful eyes. " Poor little Chariot," she murmured gently. " The hunchbacked cobbler with the soul of a hero and a martyr. His memory shall be sacred to me forever." THE END The Cardinal's Musketeer AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE MARY IMLAY TAYLOR I2mo, $1.25. The hereof "The Cardinal's Musketeer" is a knightly youth, brave and generous, and a devoted lover. The plots of the King's mother, Marie de Me"dicis, and the counter- plots of the patriotic Cardinal give rise to forceful action and dramatic situations; yet no attempt is made to cram the reader's mind with the facts and dates of French history. * * * Our hearty sympathy is engaged from the first on. behalf of Pe"ron, the Cardinal's Musketeer, to whom we are introduced in his childhood, and on behalf of the haughty little demoiselle Ren6e, who ultimately becomes his wife. The story is full of life and love. Lengthy descriptions and sermonizings are conspicuously absent; the characters speak for themselves, act their parts, and manifest all that is in them by their words and deeds. "The story is full of life, love, and exquisite, not to say dramatic, incidents." Boston Times. "There is love enough to warm and color the adventure, but not to cloy the taste; there is dramatic contrast of character and situation, swiftness of move- ment, and an easy, confident flow of style that combine to make a delightful tale one that the reader will lay down with a regret that there is not more of it." Chicago Chronicle. " The story is a strong, well-studied reproduction of the times of Cardinal Richelieu. * * * It is a stirring romance, overflowing with life and action." The Indianapolis News. OTHER BOOKS BY MISS TAYLOR ON THE RED STAIRCASE, I2mo, $1.25. " A most vivid and absorbing tale of love and adventure." The Church- man, New York. AN IMPERIAL LOVER, I2mo, $1.25. "Skillfully constructed, well written, and thoroughly interesting." Spec- tator, London. A YANKEE VOLUNTEER, i2mo, $1.25. "A story fraught with such exquisite beauty as is seldom associated with history." Boston Times. THE HOUSE OF THE WIZARD, i2mo, $1.25. "A strong, well-studied, and striking reproduction of the social and political conditions of the age of King Henry VIII. * * * Overflowing with life and action." Chicago Chronicle. For sale by all booksellers, or mailed on receipt of price by the publishers, A. C. McCLURG & CO., CHICAGO. The DREAD AND FEAR OF KINGS By J. BRECKENRIDGE ELLIS 12mo . . $1.25 READERS will find in this historical romance a work of thrilling interest. The period is the beginning of the Christian era, and the scenes are laid in Rome, the island of Capri and other parts of Italy. The Emperor, Tiberius, had retired to Capri, and from his mysterious seclusion sent forth decrees which kept the Imperial City in a continual state of terror. A single word uttered in disrespect of the Emperor or his favorite, Sejanus, might mean death and confiscation of property. No man in Rome felt the least security that his life might not in a moment be sworn away by some slave or base informer. IT is this reign of terror in Rome that forms the back- ground to the striking picture of ancient life that Mr. Ellis has produced. The story is one of love and adventure, in which types of the diverse nationalities that then thronged the Imperial City are revealed in characters some of them historical personages of marked individuality. The inter- est of the love story, the stirring incidents and the spirited dialogue, enchain the attention of the reader. For sale by booksellers generally, or mailed on receipt of price, by the publishers. A. C. McCLURG & CO., Publishers CHICAGO THE STORY OF TONTY. AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE, By Mrs. MARY HARTWELL CATHERWOOD. I2mo, 224 pages. Price, $1.25. " The Story of Tonty " is eminently a Western story, beginning at Montreal, tarrying at Fort Frontenac, and ending at the old fort at Starved Rock, on the Illinois River. It weaves the adventures of the two great explorers, the intrepid La Salle and his faithful lieutenant, Tonty, into a tale as thrilling and romantic as the de- scriptive portions are brilliant and vivid. It is superbly illustrated with twenty-three masterly drawings by Mr. Enoch Ward. Such tales as this render service past expression to the cause of his- tory. They weave a spell in which old chronicles are vivified and breathe out human life Mrs. Catherwood, in thus bringing out from the treasure- houses of half-forgotten historical record things new and old, has set her- self one of the worthiest literary tasks of her generation, and is showing herself finely adequate to its fulfilment. Transcript, Boston, A powerful story by a writer newly sprung to fame. . . All the century we have been waiting for the deft hand that could put flesh upon the dry bones of our early heroes. Here is a recreation indeed. . . . One comes from the reading of the romance with a quickened interest in our early national history, and a profound admiration for the art that can so transport us to the dreamful realms where fancy is monarch of fact. Press, Philadelphia. "The Story of Tonty" is full of the atmosphere of its time. It betrays an intimate and sympathetic knowledge of the great age of ex- plorers, and it is altogether a charming piece of work. Christian Union, New York. Original in treatment, in subject, and in all the details of mist en scene, it must stand unique among recent romances. News, Chicago. Sold by all booksellers, or mailed, on receipt of price, by A. C. McCLURG & CO., PUBLISHERS. A 000 035 961 2