»".«• "««..«■«"•« ' "V* -:'■:■/ 
 
f beikeleyA 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 V. C*IFORNIA / 
 
/) 
 
 

The 
 
 GOOD OLD TIMES, 
 
 A Tale of Auvergne. 
 
 The Author of " Mary Powell." 
 
 Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Printed for Arthur Hall, Virtue, £ff Co. 
 25, Paternofter Roiv. 
 
 1857. 
 
 -.: . 
 
London : Printed by Richard Clay. 
 
4,00 
 
 I2S7 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Where's Christophe ? 1 
 
 Chapter II. 
 The Flitting 16 
 
 Chapter III. 
 Le Puy . 30 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 The Black Lady 45 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 Roast Chestnuts 56 
 
 372 
 
iv Contents. 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Where the Shoe pinches 7 1 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 
 Lost, Stolen, or Strayed 82 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 The Mysterious Stranger 99 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 77*i? Tire-Lire in 
 
 Chapter X. 
 Brother and Sister 126 
 
 Chapter XL 
 News from Paris 139 
 
 Chapter XII. 
 The Lncognita discovered 153 
 
 Chapter XIII. 
 Halting between two Opinions 172 
 
Contents. v 
 
 Chapter XIV. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Intercession 186 
 
 Chapter XV. 
 Mystery 199 
 
 Chapter XVI. 
 A Festival 210 
 
 Chapter XVII. 
 A Wedding 223 
 
 Chapter XVIII. 
 The Routiers 234 
 
 Chapter XIX. 
 The Attack 258 
 
THE 
 
 GOOD OLD TIMES. 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 Where's Christophe ? 
 
 A T the door of a cottage, in one of those wide 
 ■*- valleys girdled by craggy mountains which 
 one sees in Auvergne, stood a healthy, black-eyed 
 girl in a snow-white cap, blue petticoat, and gera- 
 nium-coloured apron, looking eagerly forth, and 
 shading her eyes with her hand from the mid-day 
 sun. It was the latter end of autumn ; the harvest 
 and vintage were over, and the birches, larches, 
 and aspens which sprang up in the fissures of the 
 distant mountains, were clad in every variety of 
 colour, while the rocks themselves emulated their 
 dyes in never-ending gradations of purple, lilac, 
 
 B 
 
2 The Good Old "Times. 
 
 dark green, umber, tawny, grey, and pale brown, 
 till they joined the well-watered meadows at their 
 feet. In the midst of the valley, at the distance 
 of several miles from the cottage, suddenly rose 
 a gigantic, precipitous mount, crowned with a 
 feudal castle, and supporting on its sides an 
 irregular, closely -built town, including sundry 
 churches and a cathedral. A little apart from 
 this huge pile, but closely adjoining it, shot up 
 a sugar-loaf rock, shivered into peaks sharp as 
 needles, and apparently too perpendicular and 
 precipitous to be accessible to the foot of man, 
 yet crested at its summit by a church-spire. 
 
 These rocks now lay bathed in a golden haze ; 
 but though they would have riveted the regards 
 of a stranger, the girl was too familiar with them 
 to bestow on them any attention, and was 
 absorbed in looking down a rough track, hardly 
 deserving the name of a road, which traversed 
 the valley and passed the cottage-door. 
 
 Some one was slowly advancing along it, who, 
 as he drew nearer, caused her to mutter rather 
 impatiently, — " Tis not he." 
 
 When the pedestrian approached, he proved to 
 be a middle-aged man of pleasant, acute, and 
 
The Good Old Tunes. 3 
 
 thoughtful aspect, clad in a homespun suit, with 
 a leathern girdle, and bearing a small wallet. 
 
 " I wish you a good day," said he cheerfully, 
 speaking the patois of the district with a some- 
 what foreign accent ; "I wonder if you can give 
 me a draught of milk." 
 
 " I both can and will," said the girl, " though 
 it is our last ; our cow went to market this 
 morning." 
 
 " That sounds bad," said the wayfarer. 
 
 " It is not bad, however," said the girl, " for 
 we are going awav ourselves. Everything is 
 packed up and ready for starting ; had you come 
 an hour later, you would have found the house 
 empty and the door locked." 
 
 " Why so?" 
 
 " Why so ? why, because winter is coming on, 
 and the valley will be buried in snow, and we 
 shall have no means of subsistence, nor be able 
 to defend ourselves against the wolves." 
 
 " Whither are you flitting ?" 
 
 " Where but to Le Puy? There's plenty of 
 work there, both for my brother and me. He 
 will engage himself to some currier, canvas- 
 maker, or armourer, in order to be near me ; and 
 B 2 
 
4 The Good Old 'Times. 
 
 I shall sleep at my grandmother's, and join myself 
 to a company of the women of the plain in the 
 like case with myself. We shall hire a lodging, 
 adopt a rule, choose a head, place ourselves under 
 the protection of some saint, and employ our- 
 selves in lace-making. We shall talk, say our 
 prayers, sing hymns and ballads, tell tales, and 
 work all the more merrily for working in concert, 
 I assure you. But come in, come in ! My 
 brother drove the live stock off before day-dawn, 
 and I am now awaiting his return." 
 
 Saying this, she turned in-doors, and welcomed 
 the stranger into the principal room of the cot- 
 tage, which, indeed, with the exception of one or 
 two lean-tos, occupied the whole ground-floor. 
 It was roomy enough, but dark, having little light 
 but what entered through the door, and down the 
 huge, funnel-shaped chimney. The walls, of 
 dark, rough wood, were black with smoke, the 
 roof raftered and supported by a clumsy wooden 
 pillar in the midst of the kitchen ; the floor was 
 roughly paved ; and a heavy, open staircase of 
 some ten or twelve steps led to a loft above, 
 which supplied all the sleeping accommodation of 
 the cottage. It was bare and disfurnished ; 
 
The Good Old Times, 5 
 
 everything, except a cumbrous settle and table 
 and a few household implements, being removed, 
 packed up, or stowed away. On the table, how- 
 ever, were the materials for their last noontide 
 meal, consisting of black bread, a fragment of 
 crumbling, poor-looking cheese, a salad, a jug of 
 milk, and a bottle of thin wine. 
 
 " Sit down, sit down," said the girl, patting 
 the settle, which was too heavy for her to move, 
 " and let me relieve you of your wallet, and dust 
 your shoes ; you look weary." 
 
 " Indeed I am," replied he, smiling and 
 accepting her good offices, " so that your hospi- 
 tality is all the more acceptable." 
 
 " I blush to hear you call it such," replied she, 
 " for really I have nothing to offer you worth 
 having. But I can only give what I have." 
 
 " Even a cup of cold water offered to a fellow - 
 Christian in the name of our Master shall have 
 its reward," said the traveller. 
 
 " Well, here is milk, at any rate ; or will you 
 have wine ? " 
 
 " Why not wait for your brother ? " 
 
 " But he is behind time, and you are tired and 
 hungry." 
 
6 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Nay, I can readily wait. This kitchen is so cool 
 and shady that half my fatigue is gone already." 
 
 " Have a draught of milk, at any rate. Are 
 you going to Le Puy ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it looks but a step." 
 
 " It is farther, however, than it seems. The 
 size of the rock Cornell! e, on which it stands, 
 and the clear air of a day like this, deceive one ; 
 besides which, you can't reach it as a crow flies. 
 There is a river to cross, and a marsh to go round 
 by a circuitous path, unless you are light-footed 
 and acquainted with its stepping-stones ; there is 
 also a rugged descent to the broken bridge in the 
 thicket. But, if you will join our party, we will 
 show you the nearest way. Are you a pedlar ? " 
 
 " Why — yes." 
 
 " You have a very small pack." 
 
 " It only contains a few hymn books and 
 broad-sheets. Perhaps you will buy one ?" 
 
 " Ah, I have no money to spare." 
 
 " Accept one, then, in return for your milk. 
 You can read, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, Christophe taught me." 
 
 '■' Here comes your brother ; I see his shadow 
 across the door." 
 
The Good Old Times. 7 
 
 "Ah, it is only ray youngest brother, poor 
 Michel." 
 
 At the same instant, a heavy-looking lad, dis- 
 figured by a goitre, and with a half-imbecile look, 
 staggered into the cottage. He stood stupidly 
 staring for a minute or two at the stranger, and 
 then approaching his sister, said something inar- 
 ticulate, in a plaintive tone, which only her prac- 
 tised ear could render into " Where's Christophe ? " 
 
 " Christophe will soon be here," said she, 
 cheerily. " You want your dinner, Michel, and 
 that is why the time seems long. Eat this;" 
 and she gave him a piece of bread. He sank 
 down on the ground at her feet, with his shoulders 
 resting against her knees ; and when he had eaten 
 the bread, she gave him a cup of milk. After 
 this, he dropped his head back on her lap, and 
 instantly fell asleep. 
 
 " Poor fellow," said she, fondly stroking his 
 hair, and stooping down to kiss his forehead ; 
 " he has been basking in the hot sun, watching 
 for Christophe, till the heat has made him 
 drowsy. It is as well he should have a nap 
 before we start. Won't you help yourself to 
 some bread and cheese ? You see I am fixed." 
 
8 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " No, I'll wait for Christophe/' said her guest; 
 " I shall see him before you will, where I am 
 sitting ; and when we are tired of chatting, I will 
 read to you awhile, and that will make the time 
 seem short." 
 
 " He certainly ought to be near home by this 
 time. I can't think what keeps him." 
 
 " Whose castle is that I see perched on a crag 
 a great way off ? " 
 
 " The Baron de St. Vidal's. He's a terrible 
 Turk ; and yet people say there's some good in 
 him. I don't know what it consists in. He is 
 one of the three saints ; so they call him and the 
 Barons of St. Herem and St. Chaumont ; but, 
 for my part, I think they might better be called 
 the three sinners. They have no fellow-feeling 
 for poor people, and, instead of protecting, they 
 oppress us." 
 
 " The universal story, my good girl." 
 
 " Ought it, need it, to be so ? " 
 
 *' Certainly not." 
 
 " Why, now, the year of the bad harvest — Do 
 you see Christophe coming ? " 
 
 " No, the road is quite clear. What were you 
 going to say ? " 
 
The Good Old Times. 9 
 
 "The year when the harvest and vintage so 
 miserablv failed, the rich ought to have come for- 
 ward and helped us poor people ; but instead of 
 that, they took from us what little we had." 
 " The monks ought to have helped you." 
 " The monks! Why, the monks of Chanteuges 
 used to sally forth at night and rob on the high- 
 
 way 
 
 l" 
 
 " Humph !" 
 
 " I shall never forget that year — it was the 
 year my mother died. I used to sit beside her 
 bed, making lace at every spare moment ; and 
 then came the law that only the nobles were to 
 wear lace, which cut off one great branch of our 
 trade, that among the rich citizens. The men of 
 Le Velay scattered far and wide, that winter, in 
 search of work, locking up their houses, and 
 sending their wives and children into the fortified 
 towns ; but my mother was too ill to be moved, 
 and my father and Christophe would not leave 
 her. It was well they did not, or we should have 
 been devoured by the wolves that came up to our 
 very door. As it was, we should have perished 
 of hunger, but for the goodness of our neighbours, 
 every one of whom, before dispersing, brought us 
 
i o The Good Old Times. 
 
 something to add to our little stores. You see 
 him ? " 
 
 " No, I only saw a young wolf steal across the 
 road. Go on." 
 
 " I forget what I was saying." 
 
 "About the hard winter. That was in the 
 year 1547, I'm thinking." 
 
 " Yes, two years ago. I was then a girl of 
 sixteen." 
 
 "No more? I should have thought you older!" 
 
 " Care makes people look old," said she, with 
 a sad smile. 
 
 " It does," said he reflectively. " I dare say, 
 now, you reckon me at fifty ? " 
 
 " Well, — perhaps forty-eight." 
 
 " I'm barely forty, though." 
 
 " What is your name ? " 
 
 " My baptismal name — the name I am chiefly 
 called by — is Bertrand." 
 
 " You are not a Velaysan ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " 
 
 " Where can Christophe be ? I grow fidgety 
 about him." 
 
 " Nay, no harm can befal him in broad day- 
 light." 
 
The Good Old Times. i i 
 
 " You don't know," replied she absently ; 
 " there are shadows beginning to fall towards the 
 east." 
 
 " Very short ones, though." 
 
 " But they will lengthen every minute, and we 
 shall start so late." 
 
 " Come, tell me some more about the hard 
 winter." 
 
 " Ah ! I don't like to think of the hard winter. 
 My poor, poor mother died, commending me to 
 my father's and brother's care, and poor Michel 
 to mine. The ground was so hard, we could not 
 have her grave dug till the frost broke up. When 
 the frost broke up, the people of the three valleys 
 returned to their homes, but not to be happy and 
 thriving as before. The men who had been 
 employed in populous cities, had heard strange, 
 new doctrines preached, and came back to infect 
 their families with them." 
 
 " What kind of new doctrines ? " 
 
 "Why, that there should be only two sacra- 
 ments instead of seven, and that the eucharist 
 should be administered in both kinds to the 
 laity ; and that the Blessed Virgin and the saints 
 were to be reverenced but not worshipped, and 
 
1 2 The Good Old Times. 
 
 that we only need confess our sins to God the 
 Father." 
 
 " You have got the new doctrines very pat ! " 
 " I heard my father discuss them so often with 
 our neighbour Gregoire ! " 
 
 " Which side did your father take ? " 
 " The old side — when he took any at all. But 
 he mostly heard what Gregoire had to say, and 
 questioned him, without saying much in answer 
 — at least before us; for once or twice I overheard 
 him mutter ' not before the children.' " 
 
 "Was your mother absolved before she died?" 
 " No, we were snowed up ; no priest could be 
 fetched ; which made it the more shocking. It 
 made me hope and almost think there must be 
 some truth in the new doctrines, for I cannot but 
 trust she went to heaven, and the new doctrines 
 teach that there is no purgatory." 
 
 " The question is, are they new doctrines ? " 
 "Why, who heard of them till lately? My 
 grandfather and grandmother knew nothing of 
 them ; nor my father and mother till just before 
 they died." 
 
 " Your father is dead, then ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes ; he had gone to the funeral of a 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 3 
 
 friend, a few miles off, and, returning home in 
 the dark by a short cut, he fell over a cliff and 
 was dashed to pieces. But I really must look 
 after Christophe." 
 
 And she endeavoured gently to remove Michel's 
 head from her lap to the settle ; but he moaned 
 and resisted the exchange so unmistakeably that, 
 sorrowfully smiling, she remained where she was. 
 
 " Your looking forth will not bring him in sight 
 any sooner," said Bertrand, " and you know I 
 command the road. Come, I promised you I 
 would beguile the time by reading to you a little. 
 Suppose I unpack my books ; perhaps, by means 
 of one of them I shall be able to show you that 
 the doctrines you call new are not really so, but 
 as ancient as our religion itself." 
 
 " Read what you will, so that you do not un- 
 settle me," said the girl. " I know as well as 
 you do that the priests call your books dangerous, 
 but they themselves so neglect us, and so set 
 their own doctrines at nought by their practice, 
 that I feel less and less respect for them every 
 day, and often think over what Gregoire used to 
 say to my father. It is not altogether wise, 
 perhaps, to enter on such matters with one of 
 
1 4 The Good Old Times. 
 
 whom I know nothing, but somehow your manner 
 reassures me, and I cannot but think you are 
 honest." 
 
 " Many thanks to you for trusting me so far," 
 said Bertrand, smiling, as he unfastened his little 
 wallet. " Crafty and scholarly men may throw 
 dust in our eyes, and make the worse side appear 
 the better, as many of them have done too long ; 
 but the beauty of these doctrines, which you call 
 new, is, that they don't depend on man's craft or 
 scholarship at all, but are set down in the book 
 of God himself, with such plainnesss that they 
 who run may read." 
 
 "Ah, but how few have that book to refer to!" 
 said the girl. 
 
 " All might and ought to have it," said Ber- 
 trand, " and I trust the day will come when all 
 will." 
 
 In a few minutes she was listening to his read- 
 ing and expositions with deep attention. At first, 
 indeed, her eye often restlessly wandered to the 
 shadows before the door, and her thoughts strayed 
 to her absent brother; but gradually her mind 
 became fixed on the subjects that Bertrand with 
 great earnestness and simplicity was bringing 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 5 
 
 before it ; and she was absorbed in topics abso- 
 lutely removed from her own private griefs, when 
 suddenly a young man of rustic appearance, 
 overheated and in great agitation, burst into the 
 kitchen. 
 
 " Christophe ! " 
 
 " Oh, Colette ! " 
 
Chapter II. 
 
 The Flitting. 
 
 FT was now nearly three o'clock. 
 
 " What has happened? What kept you at Le 
 Puy ? " cried Colette, with a look of great alarm. 
 
 " I've never reached Le Puy ! I've never got 
 beyond the broken bridge — who's that?" stopping 
 short, and looking suspiciously at Bertrand. 
 
 " A good honest man — a pedlar, going to Le 
 Puy. No fear, Christophe. But, where then 
 are the cow, and the sheep, and the goats ? " 
 
 " I know no more than you do. We were 
 picking our way down to the bridge — I and the 
 stock — and I had just got them nicely in single 
 file, when, ' Hem ! ' cries some one ; and, before 
 I could look round, I was pinioned, blindfolded, 
 and tied to a tree. I gave one of the fellows 
 a precious black eye, first, though ; that's one 
 comfort. He roared out, but the rest laughed 
 and gibed ; I should think there must have been 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 7 
 
 half a dozen of them by their voices, which gra- 
 dually died away as they drove off the stock. So, 
 there was I, lashed to the tree, unable to stir 
 hand or foot, or see where I was, or keep the flies 
 off my face, for hour after hour ; till, at length, 
 hearing some one whistling, I bawled out, ' Help ! 
 help ! ' without knowing if it were to friend or foe. 
 As luck would have it, it was young Meurice, who 
 was surprised enough to see me pinned up like a 
 kite against a barn-door. Heugh ! my joints ache 
 from head to foot ; and only look at my nose ! 
 And all the stock gone ! " 
 
 "The monks of Chanteuges ! " said Ber- 
 trand. 
 
 " Nay, they only rob at night," said Christophe, 
 " and I think these were likelier to be some of the 
 Terrible Baron's men." 
 
 " De St. Vidal ? " 
 
 " Des Adrets. No, no, St. Vidal doesn't stoop 
 to these mean things. Anyway, our stock's gone, 
 and we're pretty near ruined." 
 
 And the poor young fellow wiped his brow and 
 
 sat down. Colette put her arm round his neck, 
 
 and kissed him ; and Michel, without being able 
 
 to comprehend the matter very clearly, saw that 
 
 c 
 
I 8 The Good Old Times. 
 
 Christophe was in trouble, and clasped one of his 
 hands. 
 
 Bertrand, looking down on his book, read aloud : 
 " My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into 
 divers temptations, knowing this, that the trying 
 of your faith worketh patience. But let patience 
 have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and 
 entire, wanting nothing." 
 
 " Good words, master," said Christophe sadly. 
 
 " This seems an affliction, rather than a temp- 
 tation," said Colette. 
 
 " And therefore the better to be borne," said 
 Bertrand. " Temptations, we know, come from 
 the Evil One, whereas afflictions are laid on us 
 by God." 
 
 "Yes, such as a' broken leg, or a bad illness," 
 said Christophe, " but this was the wicked 
 deed of wicked men, not a dispensation of 
 Providence." 
 
 " God overrules all second causes," said the 
 pedlar. " He might have smitten the men or 
 diverted them from their purpose, if He had seen 
 it would have been for the best." 
 
 " You talk like a priest, master, — or, rather, as 
 a priest uuyht to talk. But what's to be done ?" 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 9 
 
 " It is too late now to start for Le Puy," said 
 Colette. " Besides, I should be afraid." 
 
 " If you would have done as I wanted," said 
 Christophe, not crossly, but smiling at her, though 
 a little ruefully, " we should have waited till to- 
 morrow, and joined Gregoire's family, and then 
 this would not have happened." 
 
 " Ah ! " said she, dropping her eyes, " you 
 know why I did not like that." 
 
 "Why, Fabien would not have bitten your 
 nose off, would he ? " lowering his voice and 
 smiling. 
 
 "At any rate we should have saved our stock. 
 I'm sorry ! " 
 
 " Never mind, it will do no good. We will still 
 join them to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes, that will be safest. I'll unpack the 
 bedding again. But we had better dine first — how 
 hungry you must be." 
 
 "As a monk ! " 
 
 " Poor Christophe ! and I fancied you being 
 made much of by granny and aunt Marcelline, 
 and having the best of the bouilli, and roast meat, 
 and sweet things besides ! " 
 
 " No sweet things to my share to-day! Never 
 c 2 
 
20 The Good Old Times. 
 
 mind ! It will be all the same a hundred years 
 hence. Let us begin." 
 
 And again he cast an inquiring look at 
 Bertrand. 
 
 " I was on my way to Le Puy," said Bertrand, 
 " and, being weary and thirsty, asked your sister 
 for a draught of milk. She, like a °;ood Christian 
 as she is, made me come in to rest myself, and 
 partake of your meal ; and, as I found her very 
 anxious about you, I tried to beguile the time by 
 reading to her." 
 
 " Very kind of you, master. Let me help you 
 to some of our poor fare." 
 
 Bertrand reverently bent his head over his 
 folded hands, and said a short grace. 
 
 " That ought to have come from me," said 
 Christophe, " unless, indeed, you really are a 
 churchman of some sort, as your speech would 
 make one think. However, this hardly seemed 
 like a regular meal, and I said grace before break- 
 fast, though I little knew what I was going to 
 receive, or what I was asking the Lord to make 
 me thankful for." 
 
 " Lucky for ourselves that we know not what a 
 day will bring forth," said Bertrand, " but we can 
 
The Good Old Times. 21 
 
 never do amiss in asking the Lord's blessing on it, 
 whatever it may prove." 
 
 " Come, Colette, come and eat too, unless you 
 have dined already." 
 
 " I have many things to do, if you will excuse 
 me," said she, in a broken voice, " and I'm not 
 hungry." 
 
 " Many things ? " repeated Christophe, and 
 catching hold of her reluctant hand. Drawing 
 her towards him, he saw she was crying. 
 
 " Pshaw ! leave the ' many things,' and come 
 to dinner, like a good girl," said he ; " don't be 
 like — like — " 
 
 " Martha," suggested Bertrand. " Have faith 
 that all will be well yet, and leave to-morrow to 
 take care of itself. * Sufficient unto the day is 
 the evil thereof.' " 
 
 " Yes, — only — " 
 
 " No onlys," said Christophe. " Come, and 
 sit down here. What ! you won't eat? " 
 
 " But, Christophe, we shall have nothing for 
 supper." 
 
 "Fie on it! — I will run down to Gregoire's 
 presently, and beg for a little bread and 
 cheese." 
 
22 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Yes, perhaps that will be the best way — the 
 only way, in fact ; — and some milk for Michel. 
 I would rather not have done it, though." 
 
 " Why, would not you do as much for them?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! only — " 
 
 " Only you don't like putting yourself under an 
 obligation to them. — Nonsense \" 
 
 " Well, then, if you do go, you will say that 
 we shall join them to-morrow ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes." 
 
 After their meal, Christophe set forth to his 
 neighbour's cottage, having previously joined his 
 sister in cordially desiring Bertrand to accept their 
 poor hospitality till the morrow. When he was 
 gone, Colette busied herself in unpacking some 
 of her bundles, and making up beds for the 
 night; while Michel, unable to understand why it 
 was, stood wistfully watching her. Bertrand read 
 his books, or sat gazing over the valley ; now and 
 then talking to Colette, when she had leisure to 
 attend to him. 
 
 Christophe returned a little before dusk, a good 
 deal improved in spirits by dilating on his mis- 
 adventure to pitying listeners. Early as the sun 
 set, it was the signal for all the little family to 
 
The Good Old Times. 23 
 
 retire [to rest, after Bertrand had offered up a 
 short prayer for protection and blessing. 
 
 The next morning the inharmonious winding of 
 a cow-horn before their door called them forth 
 ready to start with their neighbours. It was 
 quite a patriarchal flitting ; for Gregoire, though 
 a very small farmer, was rich compared with 
 Christophe, and had a miscellaneous collec- 
 tion of cows, goats, pigs, sheep, and one or two 
 rough ponies, which his sons were driving before 
 them, while his old cart-horse carried not only 
 his pretty daughter Gabrielle and sundry bundles 
 of bedding, but two or three hen-coops full of 
 poultry. 
 
 Christophe led out his only horse and cart, 
 which Bertrand had already helped him to load, 
 and placed his sister and brother in front of the 
 luggage. He had likewise a small truck to push ; 
 and Bertrand insisted on carrying the poultry- 
 coop, which, however, they soon found they might 
 just as well tie under the cart. The cottage-door 
 was locked ; Colette gave one wistful, parting 
 look at their home, and then turned her head 
 away with a half sigh. Fabien, the son of Gre- 
 goire, soon left his cattle in charge of a lad of 
 
24 The Good Old Times. 
 
 fourteen, and dropped back to speak to her. He 
 was rather a heavy-built young man, with massive 
 but not pleasant features, and a searching, restless 
 expression about the eyes. 
 
 " The evening before last, you said you would 
 not join us," said he. 
 
 " I can't hear one word you say," said Colette, 
 smiling, and looking down upon him with an air 
 provokingly deaf. 
 
 " I don't believe it, though," muttered he 
 to himself. " What white teeth she has, the 
 wretch ! and her lips are as red as cherries. I say, 
 Colette ! " raising his voice, " you have a good 
 deal of jolting there — it would tire you far less to 
 come down and walk." 
 
 " Who would drive the cart, Fabien ? " 
 
 " Why, Michel." 
 
 " Poor Michel ! I might as well throw the 
 reins on the horse's neck at once." 
 
 " If you did that, no harm would come of it. 
 Your blind old horse would go safe enough." 
 
 " Do not deride my blind old horse ; he has 
 been a faithful servant many a year." 
 
 " Well, but, Colette, I would lead him." 
 
 " And leave your own cows and sheep ? " 
 
The Good Old Times. 2 $ 
 
 " Andre can mind them ; he's doing so 
 already." 
 
 " Yes ; and there goes the old ewe tumbling 
 down the bank." 
 
 Fabien, with a muttered expression of im- 
 patience, ran to rescue the old ewe ; and when 
 he had done so, thought it as well to mind his 
 own affairs for a while, to escape a rebuke from 
 his father. 
 
 " So this is the way you farm in Le Velay," 
 said Bertrand to Gregoire. " You sell off your, 
 stock at the beginning of winter, to buy it again 
 in the spring ! " 
 
 " What can we do ? " said Gregoire. " At all 
 events, we save it from the terrible Baron and his 
 routiers. 1 They can't run away with our corn- 
 fields and vineyards ; and our cottages are not 
 worth their ransacking, though they do burn them 
 sometimes." 
 
 Bertrand was silent for a minute or two, and 
 then, in a deep, solemn undertone, murmured, 
 ' ' Go to, now, ye rich men ! weep and howl for 
 your miseries that shall come upon you ! Behold, 
 
 1 Road-bands; robbers. 
 
26 The Good Old Times. 
 
 the hire of the labourers who have reaped down 
 your fields, which is of you kept back by fraud, 
 crieth! and the cries of them which have reaped 
 are entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. 
 Ye have lived in pleasure on the earth and been 
 wanton ; ye have nourished your hearts as in a 
 day of slaughter." 
 
 " Capital ! " exclaimed Christophe, who was 
 within ear-shot; "I like a man that talks so, 
 whoever he may be." 
 
 "That's the word of God, I fancy?" said Gre- 
 goire to Bertrand in a low voice, eyeing him 
 attentively as he spoke. 
 
 " You are right." 
 
 " Give us some more of it. It is like rain to 
 thirsty land." 
 
 " Ye have condemned and killed the just, and 
 he doth not resist you." Then, suddenly chang- 
 ing the inflection of his voice, which sank into 
 his hearers' hearts, Bertrand went on, " Be pa- 
 tient, therefore, brethren, unto the coming of 
 the Lord. Behold, the husbandman waiteth for 
 the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long 
 patience for it, until he receive the early 
 and latter rain. Be ye also patient ; establish 
 
The Good Old Times. 27 
 
 your hearts ; for the coming of the Lord draweth 
 nigh." 
 
 " Beautiful ! " ejaculated Gregoire. 
 
 " And so true ! " added Christophe. " About 
 the husbandman, I mean." 
 
 " The question is, does the coming of the 
 Lord draw nigh ? " said Gregoire sadly. " I 
 wish it did, for my part. But, you see, the 
 writer of that saying thought it was near at 
 hand, and many a long century has rolled over 
 the world since, and mankind only get worse and 
 worse." 
 
 " Say not so, my friend." 
 
 " Well, I actually think it. The rich cannot 
 well be more depraved and lawless than they are 
 now. And many of the poor are depraved, too." 
 
 At this point, the narrow road became strewn 
 with masses of rock, and plunged down a pre- 
 cipitous bank ploughed by winter torrents, to a 
 brawling, turbulent tributary of the Loire, shaded 
 by tangled thickets on either side that nearly 
 closed across it, and spanned by a rough stone 
 bridge of one arch with a broken parapet. 
 
 " Here's the place where I was waylaid ! " said 
 Christophe ; and the little caravan halted and 
 
28 The Good Old Times. 
 
 looked around, with an eye to present as well as 
 past danger. 
 
 "As well chosen a spot for a sortie as could 
 easily he found," observed Bertrand. 
 
 " Halt ! " cried Gregoire, as the little party 
 began to move on. " Take the cattle across first, 
 Fabien, and then come back to lead your sister's 
 horse. Two men to each horse's head will not 
 be too many, and we had better get them across 
 one at a time." 
 
 Fabien cast an alarmed look into the thicket, 
 and then obeyed orders. The passage was slow 
 and dangerous, but effected without accident. 
 Then they went forward almost in silence, pushing 
 their way under the alders and birches, and 
 stumbling over great stones that seemed purposely 
 laid in the way for the molestation of travellers. 
 Presently, they reached a wide level of emerald 
 green, that looked smooth and tempting as " by- 
 path meadow," but was nearly as treacherous, 
 being very much like a great wet sponge. The 
 Velaysans knew the track ; but, nevertheless, the 
 cattle could not always be kept so closely to it as 
 to escape some plunging and floundering in the 
 marsh. 
 
The Good Old Times. 
 
 29 
 
 Thus the morning hours went by, with occa- 
 sional snatches of talk when the road was easiest, 
 till they reached Le Puy about an hour after 
 noon. 
 
Chapter III. 
 
 Le Puy. 
 
 T F St. Amable, who had such a sensitive nose 
 that he struck a woman dead, says the legend, 
 for burning bad oil in her lamp, — if St. Amable 
 had entered Le Puy on this particular market- 
 day, or on any other day of the year, his olfactory 
 nerves would have received a shock which he 
 might have taken a very unsaintly method of 
 resenting. 
 
 This old cathedral-town, breathed upon on every 
 side by the breezy mountain air, with every facility 
 of drainage that a good fall could bestow, was then, 
 as now, only one of the many illustrations that 
 God made the country and man made the town ; 
 God put within reach of the inhabitants every- 
 thing that was needful for ventilation, and sweet- 
 ness, and wholesomeness ; and man chose to 
 neglect, pervert, and abuse the same, to that 
 extent, that the senses of the inhabitants be- 
 
The Good Old Times. 3 1 
 
 coming deadened and depraved by the constant 
 nuisances among which they drew their daily 
 breath, had grown absolutely indifferent to the 
 abominable odours they inhaled in their pent-up 
 streets. 
 
 These streets, or alleys, were paved with "great, 
 irregular blocks of lava, over which horses, bul- 
 locks, and smaller quadrupeds stumbled and 
 slipped with sore discomfort till they reached the 
 market-place — " La Place de Breuil." Both 
 streets and square were filled to overflowing with 
 townsfolk and market-people ; women mounted 
 astride on great, heavy farm horses laden with 
 panniers, or driving mules and asses bearing 
 poultry-coops, their sun-burnt, lively faces en- 
 closed in snowy frilled caps, and overtopped by 
 jaunty little flat beaver hats, with nodding plumes 
 and gold sprays or buckles, their shrilly voices 
 screaming to their companions from one end of 
 the street to the other ; men, lugging at their 
 horses' mouths, or pricking on their cattle with 
 goads, jostling, hallooing, swearing; children cry- 
 ing, singing, beating drums, blowing horns and 
 whistles ; vendors of cakes, fruit, and vegetables 
 crying their commodities ; sellers of relics, rosa- 
 
32 The Good Old Times. 
 
 ries, crucifixes, and pictures, carrying on a brisk 
 competition in booths and stalls, on steps and in 
 corners of churches and houses; pedlars, jugglers, 
 and peep-show men; begging friars; church -bells 
 clanging, the heavy cathedral clock striking ; 
 ballad-singers and guitar-players ; — these and 
 many more contributors to the general hubbub 
 and confusion, caused poor Michel to look 
 completely stupified, and even Colette to feel 
 bewildered. 
 
 As they advanced up the precipitous alleys, 
 their party gradually lessened and broke up. 
 Bertrand gratefully bade them farewell, saying he 
 should spend some time in the town and probably 
 meet them again : Gregoire and his son proceeded 
 to the market, after leaving their baggage in safe- 
 guard at a small hostelry where they were known ; 
 Christophe followed their example; and Gabrielle, 
 remaining with the household stuff, cheerfully 
 bade Colette farewell, saying she should look 
 about for winter quarters without delay, and soon 
 let Colette know where they were to be found. 
 
 Colette then proceeded with Michel on foot 
 towards the upper part of the town, which is too 
 steep to be ever invaded by sound of wheel or 
 
The Good Old Times, 3 3 
 
 hoof, and the deathlike stillness of which presents 
 a singular contrast to the life and uproar below. 
 Michel clung fast to her hand, looking alarmed 
 at being jostled and shoved about by the towns- 
 people, till, at the upper end of the alley, they 
 suddenly came out upon the venerable cathedral, 
 when he uttered a cry of joy and surprise, and 
 drew Colette back to look at it. 
 
 She led him up the long flights of stone steps, 
 disfigured by booths and stalls covered with 
 medallions, pictures, and images of the famous 
 " black Virgin," to the vast vaulted porch, be- 
 neath which they stood and reverently looked in 
 at the inner door, supported on noble columns of 
 porphyry. A rich odour of incense was stealing 
 forth, and the faint sounds of sacred music issued 
 from the choir. Colette reverently crossed her- 
 self as she thought how this cathedral was said to 
 have been consecrated by the angels themselves ; 
 and how, when the bishop and his train first 
 entered it, they heard celestial hymnings, from 
 unseen psalmodists, pouring from the choir, and 
 perceived the air to be perfumed with heavenly 
 incense. 
 
 Michel would fain have entered, but she softly 
 
 D 
 
34 The Good Old Times. 
 
 said, " Another time," and led him away. As they 
 departed, an ecclesiastic passed her, who stared 
 at her so rudely that she thought " that man is 
 not worthy of his office," and felt pained to have 
 her chain of devout thoughts so broken. The 
 relic-vendors importuned her noisily as she 
 passed : — 
 
 " Buy a chaplet, my pretty maiden ! Buy 
 this image of our blessed Lady, the fac-simile, in 
 little, of that holy image made by the prophet 
 Jeremiah, and presented to our cathedral by King 
 Dagobert." 
 
 " Not by Dagobert, you ignoramus ! " cried an 
 opposition vendor, " but by Haroun al Raschid !" 
 
 " By neither," shouted a third, lower down the 
 steps, " but by Louis the Young ! " 
 
 " You are all out," cried a fourth ; " it was 
 Philip Augustus ! " 
 
 " It was none of them," shouted a fifth ; " it 
 was St. Louis !" 
 
 At this moment, the clatter of horse-shoes on 
 the rough pavement was immediately succeeded 
 by the apparition of a wild-looking little man with 
 a bushy red beard, mounted on a superb charger, 
 from which he threw himself and flung the reins 
 
The Good Old Times. 35 
 
 to an attendant ; and then ran up the steps, his 
 black cloak flying out behind him, and the white 
 plume in his flapped hat streaming in the 
 wind. 
 
 " That's one of the three saints ! " ejaculated 
 a relic seller. 
 
 " The Baron de St. Vidal, doubtless bearing 
 some rich offering to our Lady," said another ; 
 " seldom enough he sets foot in a church." 
 
 " No, but he reads his prayers punctually twice 
 a day, so they say," rejoined the first, " which is 
 more than either of his brother saints pretend to." 
 
 " The greater the saint, the greater the sinner," 
 muttered the other. " I mean, the greater the 
 sinner the greater the saint, — which way is it ? " 
 
 " No great difference, maybe," said the other, 
 laughing, as he dusted some of his wares with an 
 old handkerchief. 
 
 Meanwhile, Colette helped the weary Michel 
 to ascend the steep, noiseless streets of the upper 
 town, where the air was fresh and cool, and where 
 scarcely a murmur from the noisy market broke 
 the deep repose. 
 
 Many of the quaint old tenements in this 
 quarter stood deserted and with open doors, their 
 d 2 
 
36 The Good Old Times. 
 
 occupants having descended to the busy market- 
 place, unmolested by apprehensions of any in- 
 truders in their absence. Here and there a sleepy 
 dog or blinking cat lay sentinel in door or window; 
 here and there a merry bird in a cage poured forth 
 its song unheeded ; and here and there an aged 
 grand-dame kept watch over a young child, or a 
 thrifty lacemaker plied her bobbins at the threshold 
 and hummed a drowsy ballad. 
 
 At length, in an alley, or rather single row of 
 quaint old cottages, on a steeper acclivity than 
 the rest, and only protected from the sheer pre- 
 cipice by a low parapet wall of lava blocks, Colette 
 reached the ancient house in which her grand- 
 mother dwelt. That venerable lady, her withered 
 cheeks surrounded by an unusually large and full 
 frill, and attired in a dark woollen gown and 
 bright yellow apron, was in the act of casting a 
 tub of dish water and cabbage stalks over the 
 parapet, on whatever might chance to be beneath, 
 when her grandchildren came up. 
 
 " So, here you are at last, young folks ! " cried 
 she, in a loud, cracked, cheerful voice, and strong 
 patois. " Marcelline ! Marcelline ! where are you? 
 Here they are ! " 
 
The Good Old Times. 37 
 
 Marcelline came limping to the old, carved 
 doorway, with a mixture of pain and pleasure in 
 her face. Like too many of the inhabitants of 
 Le Puy, she was very lame, owing to an unfor- 
 tunate tumble down some steep place in her 
 childhood, which had occasioned an injury that 
 had been neglected till too late to remedy. 
 
 She was between thirty and forty ; and had it 
 not been for the contracted features which bespoke 
 pain rather than peevishness, would have been not 
 merely pretty but beautiful. As it was, no one 
 thought of considering her either ; but there was 
 something interesting;, and, to a few who knew 
 her well, loveable, in the spare, oval face, regular 
 features, smooth, colourless, olive skin, and 
 languid, dark eyes, which now appeared under the 
 deep shadow of the mossy porch. 
 
 Though Marcelline was no religieuse, she was 
 vouee au noir by her mother in childhood, in hopes 
 that the famous black Virgin would accept the 
 compliment, and show her favour to her votary, 
 by healing the lameness which had resulted from 
 culpable carelessness. And though the years for 
 which the vow had been taken had long since 
 expired, Marcelline had become attached to her 
 
38 The Good Old Times. 
 
 sober dress, and adhered to it with a kind of vague 
 feeling that it separated her from the world. 
 Thus, though white and blue are considered the 
 favourite colours of the Virgin, yet, in honour of 
 the black image, which in Le Puy cathedral 
 went by her name, Marcelline wore a loose, full 
 dress of black serge, with long sleeves, and closing 
 round her throat, while a rosary hung to her belt, 
 and very little of her dark braided hair was seen 
 beneath her plain white cap, which, unlike those 
 of her townswomen, was without frills, and had 
 long barbes, or lappets, frequently pinned over 
 her head to be out of the way. The slight sin- 
 gularity of this attire had something in it that 
 always pleased Colette's eye and fancy, and made 
 her look on her aunt as something rather apart 
 from, and superior to, the average. 
 
 Marcelline now gave her niece and nephew a 
 cordial welcome ; and after much kissing and feli- 
 citating in the open air, they all followed her into 
 the old lava-paved kitchen, where the pot -au-feu 
 was still sending forth its savoury odours from the 
 fire. 
 
 "Of course, we dined long ago," said Marcel- 
 line, " but we guessed you would come, and 
 
The Good Old Times. 39 
 
 come hungry, so we shall have the more leisure 
 to help you, and talk while you are eating your 
 soup. Why did not you come yesterday ? " 
 
 "Ah, such a misfortune, aunt!" and poor 
 Colette's lip began to quiver. " Let me do that," 
 said she, hastily taking the basins and spoons 
 from Marcelline, and relieving her of the task of 
 spreading the table. 
 
 " My dear child, I have done nothing to-day," 
 said Marcelline, " and you have had a long 
 journey." 
 
 " Yes, but you are in pain." 
 
 " I almost always am, now — but tell me, what 
 misfortune have you had ? " 
 
 " Yes, tell us, my little cat," said Mere Su* 
 zanne, patting her on the shoulder, then giving 
 Michel a loud kiss and wiping his face with her 
 apron, and finally sitting down in an old black 
 chair with her hands on her knees. 
 
 Colette related Christophe's misadventure, 
 which excited much exclamation and commi- 
 seration. 
 
 •'And where is he then, now?" said his grand- 
 mother, " since he has no stock to sell. Oh, the 
 horse and cart — true ; and the baggage. Here 
 
40 The Good Old Times. 
 
 he comes with a great load of bedding on his 
 back." 
 
 Christophe came in very hungry, and very glad 
 to have son^e soup. He said he had been lucky- 
 enough to get rid of the horse and cart to the 
 keeper of the inn where they had stopped, and he 
 should soon sell the poultry. After that, he would 
 look about for some work ; and when he had got 
 it, he would return for the night, and bring the 
 rest of the baggage. 
 
 " Then, since you are returning to the market- 
 place, Christophe," said his aunt, " you can order 
 some lamp-oil for us, and some cheese, which 
 will save me a painful walk. I can get down 
 there pretty well, but find it mighty hard to come 
 up again." 
 
 " You must let me do all your errands now, 
 aunt," said Colette affectionately ; "I shall like 
 it very much." 
 
 " Yes, yes, T mean to make you useful to me 
 in many ways," said Marcelline, with a smile that 
 had as much sadness as sweetness in it. "I have 
 been counting on the trouble you would save me 
 ever since I knew you were coming." 
 
 " I am so glad — what shall I do first ? Clear 
 
The Good Old Times. 41 
 
 the table and wash up these spoons and basins ? 
 Yes, and then make up our beds. See, here is a 
 nosegay of our last flowers in this basket for you. 
 I will put them into a jar and set them out a 
 little." 
 
 " Oh, how sweet they are !" 
 
 " And here are our eleven last eggs — and a pot 
 of honey — and a bundle of sweet herbs — and some 
 leeks and garlic. Some beet-root — a piece of pork 
 — and a few sausages. That's all." 
 
 " And a good deal, too," said Marcelline 
 kindly. 
 
 " What a smart little hat this is of thine, my 
 pet!" said Mere Suzanne, sticking Colette's little 
 hat on her fist, and examining it all round with 
 satisfaction. " This lining of cherry-coloured 
 velvet is absolutely charming, and it wants no- 
 thing but a little nodding plume. You shall have 
 one, chiffon .'" 
 
 Thus the afternoon passed in the greatest cheer- 
 fulness and harmony, and in great activity too, 
 on the part of Colette, who, when she saw how 
 increasingly painful every kind of bodily exertion 
 had become to her aunt, insisted on sparing her 
 every possible fatigue. They left Mere Suzanne 
 
42 The Good Old Times. 
 
 and Michel together, mutually content with each 
 other's company ; and betook themselves to the 
 sleeping-room beyond the kitchen, in which Mar- 
 celline and her mother slept together, and where 
 Colette now prepared to make up her bed in the 
 corner, while her aunt sat on the ledge of her own 
 bed, pressing her hand to her side. 
 
 " You seem to me worse, aunt, than I expected 
 to find you," said Colette, as she untied the knots 
 of her bundles. 
 
 "I am worse," said Marcelline. " I have pains 
 and aches that I don't believe there are any words 
 in our language to describe — and what would be 
 the good of describing them, if they cannot be 
 cured ? I cannot bear to think how much money 
 I have spent on medicine and advice that have 
 made me no better ; I have wearied our Lady 
 with prayers, and myself with kneeling at her 
 shrine ; I have, besides, given her a large wax 
 candle ; so, what more can be done ? Perhaps 
 it is want of faith — " and she sighed. 
 
 " It cannot be that, in your case," cried 
 Colette ; " but perhaps more intercessory prayer 
 may be effectual. I am sure I have prayed for 
 you every night, and have even made poor Michel 
 
The Good Old Times. 43 
 
 say ' bless aunt Marcelline ; ' but now I see you, 
 I feel I have not been half fervent enough ; and 
 I promise you, aunt, to pray for you a great deal 
 more diligently." 
 
 Marcelline thanked her affectionately, and then 
 said, " How have you and Christophe got on 
 together this summer ? " 
 
 " Oh, he has been the best and kindest of 
 brothers ! " 
 
 " Has he any thoughts of marriage ? " 
 
 " I believe he would like to have, if he were 
 not so poor. Gabrielle would hardly accept him 
 as he is." 
 
 " Why, her father is poor too." 
 
 " Oh, no, aunt ; not compared with us. We 
 had one cow, and he had four ; we have a little 
 field and a little vineyard, and he has a vineyard 
 and three fields. We count him a rich man." 
 
 " You come of richer forefathers, though." 
 
 " What does that signify, now they are dead 
 and gone, except that they have left us a few 
 silver spoons ? And we must sell them next 
 spring, perhaps, to help to buy a cow." 
 
 " Spring is a long time to look forward to," 
 said Marcelline. " Perhaps Christophe will be 
 
44 FM Good Old Times. 
 
 able to lay by a nice little sum during the winter. 
 He is so active and industrious, he will be sure 
 to get work. Michel looks well — his cheeks are 
 quite fat." 
 
 " Oh, and he is such a good, docile boy ! It is 
 impossible to help loving him. I do not think 
 him nearly so dull as he was ; he has learnt to 
 say the Paternoster quite nicely. And God can 
 understand him, if nobody else can but myself." 
 
 " That's true, Colette ; come, you shall stow 
 away all those things in the old cherry-wood 
 armoire, and then we will go and give Michel his 
 supper." 
 
Chapter IV. 
 
 The Black Lady. 
 
 ^7" HEN Christophe returned with the remainder 
 of the luggage, it proved that he had forgotten 
 the oil ; and as he was anxious to begin looking: 
 out for employment, Colette offered to run down 
 to the oil-shop and execute her aunt's errand. 
 
 As she passed through the market-place, the 
 Baron de St. Vidal, accompanied by the bishop, 
 rode by ; and with a laugh that had something 
 terrific in it, he waved his hand towards a stake in 
 the centre, and cried aloud, " Aha ! I trust we 
 shall smell roast meat again there, by and by." 
 
 The bishop, who was a humane man, allowed 
 this remark to pass in silence ; for the baron, who 
 believed he had been cured of a severe fit of 
 toothache by the Black Virgin, had just expressed 
 his gratitude by presenting her with a candle as 
 thick as his arm, of the very best wax. 
 
\6 The Good Old Times : 
 
 Colette was returning with the oil when she 
 met Gabrielle. 
 
 " Well ! " cried Gabrielle, " I have lost no time 
 since I saw you last. I have joined a company 
 of our women ; we have chosen Babette Laroche 
 for our head, put ourselves under the protection 
 of the Black Lady, and hired a large upper room 
 at the pottery shop over against the Golden Ball. 
 Victorine Dumont and Marie Voisin are among 
 us, so we are secure of mirth and of piety. Will 
 not you like to be one of us ? " 
 
 " I have been thinking it over," said Colette, 
 " and I believe I shall give it up. Aunt Marcel- 
 line is in far worse health than I expected to find 
 her, and I think I shall prefer remaining with her, 
 and saving her as much fatigue as possible ; and 
 working at my lace whenever I can." 
 
 " That will be horribly stupid," said Gabrielle ; 
 " you will be moped to death, shut up with two 
 old women and an imbecile boy in that dull quar- 
 ter of the town ; and your work will amount to 
 nothing if you subject yourself to continual 
 interruptions." 
 
 " I know very well that I shall not do nearly as 
 much," said Colette ; " but it seems to me to be 
 
The Good Old Times. 47 
 
 a greater duty, as well as comfort, to relieve my 
 aunt, than to keep to my work and be able to say 
 at the winter's end, I have made so many yards 
 of lace." 
 
 " But the lace is for sale," rejoined Gabrielle, 
 " and is not money-making, just now, your prime 
 object? " 
 
 " A great one, certainly, but yet not my prime 
 object — though it was so till I saw my aunt." 
 
 " But will not she be vexed at your getting be- 
 hindhand ? What will you do in the spring ? " 
 
 " Spring is a long time to look forward to, as 
 my aunt says," replied Colette, "so I will not 
 think about it." 
 
 Gabrielle was going to reply, when a man with 
 a struggling pig in his arms ran against them 
 both, and nearly upset Colette's oil. At the same 
 time, a group of itinerants began to sing a voci- 
 ferous montagnard ; wherefore the two girls, nod- 
 ding a smiling adieu, went their several ways. 
 
 When Colette reached her grandmother's door, 
 Christophe appeared to be standing under the 
 porch. She laid her hand unceremoniously on 
 his arm, saying, with a laugh, " Mind me and my 
 oil ! " when the young man turned about, and 
 
48 The Good Old Times. 
 
 looked full at her with an air of amused surprise. 
 He was handsome and pleasant-looking, but not 
 Christophe, nor a bit like him ; and Colette was so 
 embarrassed at her mistake that she coloured all 
 over and nearly dropped her jar. " Take care ! " 
 said he, preventing it from falling, " it would be 
 a pity to spoil that pretty pink apron ; " and with 
 a good-humoured smile, he walked away. 
 
 " Who is that ? " said Colette to her aunt. 
 
 " Victor Souvestre," replied Marcelline ; " he 
 has just brought home my bird-cage, which he has 
 been mending for me. He is always doing one 
 good-natured thing or another." 
 
 And then, as it was growing dusk, she took the 
 oil from Colette and began to trim the lamp ; 
 while Michel, giving a loud yawn, warned his 
 sister that it was time for him to go to bed. 
 When she had heard him say his prayers, kissed 
 him and tucked him up, she went out and joined 
 Christophe, who was sitting astride on the low 
 parapet, and humming — 
 
 " Young Aucassin loved Nicolette ; " 
 with one foot on terra firma, and the other dang- 
 ling over a precipice of some hundred feet. He 
 told her he had engaged himself to a canvas- 
 
The Good Old Times. 49 
 
 maker, brother-in-law to young Souvestre the 
 shoemaker, who seemed to spend all his spare 
 time in chatting with him. Then he told what 
 wages he was to have, and began to reckon how 
 much he should save, and how soon he should 
 lay by the price of a cow. Then he bade her 
 watch the kindling lights in the houses below, till 
 the old city looked as if sprinkled with sparks ; 
 and they listened to the chimes, and the clocks, 
 and the church bells, and the distant singing, 
 hallooing, and laughing, all mingling into a wild 
 harmony that had something plaintive in it. Then 
 he began to hum one of his mountain songs, 
 but fell quiet again, and kept gazing on the 
 strange sugarloaf rock, seeming almost within a 
 stone's throw in the deceptive twilight ; and he 
 noted the dusky forms of wagons and carts, and 
 rustic parties returning to their village homes 
 across the plain far below. Then he pointed out 
 to his sister a distant light flitting here and there 
 on the marsh, and said, " What do you think 
 that is ? " 
 
 " A lantern," said Colette. 
 
 " No; Le-Feu-Follet." 
 
 " Is it?" said she, with a little thrill. 
 
 E 
 
So The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Yes, this is just the sort of warm, close, 
 steamy weather it likes — the evening of a market- 
 day, too, when there are plenty of poor, silly 
 people for the mischievous elf to lead astray." 
 
 Colette crossed herself devoutly. 
 
 " What a strange kind of creature it must be I" 
 said she. " I wonder what it does by day." 
 
 " Sleeps in some hole or cavern," said Chris- 
 tophe decidedly, as if he knew all about it. 
 
 " Did you ever hear anybody say positively he 
 had seen it ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; George Morin fell in its way one 
 September evening, going home from a cattle - 
 fair ; it dragged him through bushes and quag- 
 mires, and flung him into a pool, where he lay 
 senseless till the next morning." 
 
 " Did he say what it was like ?" 
 
 " No, not exactly; but I've a very good notion 
 of it — a grinning, big-headed goblin, with some- 
 thing malicious in its face." 
 
 " I should not like to be waylaid by him at 
 all," said Colette, shuddering. 
 
 " Pooh ! not half so bad as being waylaid by 
 routiers, I can tell you ! I know something of 
 the one, if not of the other. By the bye, did 
 
The Good Old Times. 5 1 
 
 you hear the tale Gabrielle told, as we crossed the 
 valley, of the Routier and the Noble Head ? " 
 
 " No ; how should I ? My cart was in advance. 
 What was it?" 
 
 " It sounded all the better from such merry, 
 rosy lips. I shall maul it, I know. However, 
 the gist of it was this : A pretty strong force 
 of routiers having taken a town, one of them, 
 passing an open door of a house, saw what he 
 took for a sheep's head hanging up in the 
 passage. Thought the routier, ' Here's a supper 
 for me ! ' so he popped it into his bag, without 
 much examination in the dusk, and proceeded to 
 his quarters. On turning out his booty, however, 
 you may guess his disappointment and disgust, on 
 finding it to be the head of a man recently 
 beheaded. 
 
 " ' Humph ! ' thought he, ' this is not exactly 
 what I expected. Bad as I may be, I am not yet 
 a cannibal. By these long and soft curls of dark 
 brown hair, and this well -trimmed moustache, I 
 conclude this head to have been struck off the 
 shoulders of some young nobleman, whose friends 
 will not with indifference see it thrown to the 
 dogs. I may, perchance, make money of it.' 
 e 2 
 
52 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " On inquiry, he found that the head had 
 indeed belonged to the young lord of a neigh- 
 bouring castle, and that the house he had taken it 
 from was that of the chief executioner. 
 
 " As the castle was not far off, the routier 
 started for it at once, carrying the head in his 
 bag. The castle-gates had been torn off their 
 hinges by the king's orders, and the family banner 
 lay trampled in the dust. A faithful old steward, 
 with eyes red with weeping, received him without 
 suspicion, and conducted him to the hall where 
 the father of the young count sat disconsolate, 
 teaching two pretty boys, his orphaned grandsons, 
 to say their prayers. When the routier saw the 
 old man thus engaged, his heart melted, and he 
 stopped short at the threshold. The old count, 
 seeing him there, laid aside his prayer-book and 
 beckoned him forward, being surprised and some- 
 what consoled that any one should visit a house so 
 disgraced. The routier, as he came to the castle, 
 had thought of bowling the head out of the bag to 
 the old man's feet — " 
 
 " What a wretch ! " interrupted Colette. 
 
 " Of course," said Christophe. "All the routiers 
 are wretches, who live by their sins and their 
 
The Good Old Times. ^ 
 
 swords. But this one, when he saw the old 
 count's white locks, and the innocent faces of the 
 two pretty boys, who, being dismissed from their 
 prayers, ran off into a corner, relented, and 
 thought he would hear what the old man had 
 to say. The poor nobleman sat over the hearth, 
 and seemed very low-spirited ; and, the hail 
 beginning to patter against the painted windows, 
 he said in a dejected voice : ' No doubt, you 
 have been driven into this house of misfortune 
 because you could find shelter nowhere else.' 
 ' Not so,' returned the routier ; ' I am not one of 
 those who run away from sorrow and trouble 
 as if from the plague or the gallows. Weep 
 on, my brave old Sir, if it relieves you ; I will 
 answer for it, he whom you lament deserved your 
 tears.' ' Oh, indeed he did,' replied the sorrow- 
 ing father ; ' his enemies, who were devoured with 
 envy of him, accused him of sorcery, and were 
 resolved beforehand that he should die. I deplore 
 not only his death, but the manner of it ; his poor 
 mangled remains have been deprived of their 
 most noble member, which will be denied the 
 rites of holy burial. Alas ! it will be exposed on 
 the gates of the town, where ravens will come 
 
54 The Good Old 'Times. 
 
 and . . .' Here his tears prevented him from 
 proceeding. 
 
 " ' Surely, Sir,' said the routier, ' now that the 
 deed is done, the best way will be to think as 
 little about it as possible. But I fear if a stranger 
 like myself were to come to you with a bag of this 
 sort, and tell you your son's head was in it, you 
 would faint with terror, or else cause him to be 
 chased from your castle.' 'Oh, no, indeed!' 
 said the old lord, * I should esteem him my 
 greatest benefactor, who had brought to me the 
 most valuable gift on earth ! ' ' Prepare yourself 
 for a shock, then,' said the routier, untying his 
 bag, and taking out the head very gently, 'for 
 here it is !' 
 
 " The old count started up, and gazed on 
 the routier for a moment with an air that was 
 quite grand. Then, casting his eyes on the head, 
 he burst into a passion of tears, exclaiming, ' O 
 give it me ! give it me ! Heaven be praised ! 
 Our heads will now be laid together in the same 
 tomb !' 
 
 " The routier, much moved, gave it him 
 respectfully in silence, and quitted the castle 
 without asking for any reward. But the steward 
 
The Good Old Times. 5 5 
 
 soon came running after him with a heavy bag of 
 money, in return for his sack with the head." 
 
 " Is that all?" cried Colette. " I should not 
 think there were many routiers like that." 
 
 " There are good and bad of all sorts," said 
 Christophe. " You should have heard Gabrielle 
 tell the story." 
 
 And after a moment, he began to hum a hymn 
 to the Virgin ; and Colette, with her arm on his 
 shoulder, softly sang with him. 
 
 The stars came out, one by one. 
 
 sfe 
 
 4&2& 
 
 ^ 
 
Chapter V. 
 
 Roast Chestnuts. 
 
 A LL at once a horrid glare of red light shone 
 in the horizon. 
 
 " Oh, see !" cried Colette, " what's that ? " 
 
 " A farm, or perhaps a village, set on fire by 
 the routiers," said Christophe, after a moment's 
 silence. Then drawing her closer to him, — " That 
 might have been our fate," said he, in a low voice, 
 " had we tarried at home another night." 
 
 " Poor people ! who can tell what shocking 
 things are happening among those flames ! " said 
 Colette. 
 
 " Who, indeed! " repeated Christophe. " How- 
 ever, perhaps the routiers are disappointed at 
 finding the premises cleared out before their visit, 
 and are taking the only revenge in their power by 
 burning the mere walls and thatch." 
 
 " It can't be our house," said Colette, hastily. 
 
 " No ; ours lies more to the south." 
 
The Good Old Times. ^J 
 
 " How shocking it is to look down on such 
 scenes of distress, and be unable to give any 
 help ! And yet, how comfortable to be perched 
 up here, shut in with strong gates, and surrounded 
 by plenty of people, quite in safety ! " 
 
 " Ah, don't let us boast ! " 
 
 " Why, what danger can there be ? " 
 
 " Towns and cities have been sacked before 
 now." 
 
 Here their grandmother called them in. 
 
 A few days afterwards, Colette met Gabrielle 
 with her pretty face disfigured with a large plaster. 
 
 " Why, Gabrielle !" cried she, " what have you 
 been about ? " 
 
 "Ah, you may well ask," said Gabrielle. "Don't 
 laugh at me, for I feel very sore." 
 
 " Sore ! I should think so, if your hurt is as 
 large as that plaster ! " 
 
 " That it is, I can tell you ; but I mean, I feel 
 sore about my looks — I doubt if I shall not always 
 have a scar. Did I not tell you we had hired a 
 nice room at the potter's, and chosen a head, and 
 put ourselves under the special protection of the 
 Black Lady ? Well, who would have thought, 
 after our doing that, of the floor giving way and 
 
58 The Good Old Times. 
 
 all of us falling through it into the ware-room 
 below, with as little order as so many bricks, — 
 tumbling among the pottery, breaking ever so 
 much of it, besides cutting, bruising, and hurting 
 ourselves ? It was so though, I assure you ! " 
 
 "I am very glad I was not among you," said 
 Colette ; " was any one seriously hurt ? " 
 
 " Nay ; there were no bones broken, but every 
 one was more or less disfigured. Victorine had 
 her lip cut open ; Marie has an eye like a half- 
 ripe plum ; Georgette has wrenched her wrist ; 
 and you see how I am hurt ! " 
 
 " Yes. What a pity ! " 
 
 " Moreover, we broke more pottery than we had 
 earned money to pay for. My father advanced 
 it, and we are to pay him by instalments ; but it 
 takes away one's spirit in working, when it is only 
 to pay off a debt. Tis a bad affair altogether. 
 And what do you think the potter said ? The floor 
 had never given way before ! And something 
 he added about our seeming to be very heavy." 
 
 " Have you found another lodging ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes; a ground-floor room, but not half as 
 cheerful and airy. When are you coming to see 
 us ? You have not been near us yet." 
 
The Good Old Times. 59 
 
 " I find so many things to do, to help my aunt. 
 You know the work of the house is doubled." 
 
 " Yes ; and you fritter away your time in peeling 
 turnips and scraping carrots, and will not have 
 made a dozen yards of lace by Christmas. Adieu! 
 I shall run up to you some evening." 
 
 In the afternoon, Colette was cleaning the silver 
 spoons, when some one tapped at the door. She 
 went to open it, and started when some one said, 
 
 " Will you buy ," and then stopped short, and 
 
 started too. They both laughed, for it was Ber- 
 trand, — and neither of them had expected to see 
 the other. 
 
 " So, here you are," cried he cheerfully. 
 " You forgot to tell me where you were to be 
 found." 
 
 '* And you never asked ! Come in, pray." 
 
 " I will ; but first let me for a moment enjoy 
 the superb prospect from this door. What a plain ! 
 What a girdle of hills, crags, and mountains ! 
 What eagles' nests of castles perched on their 
 summits ! The rivers, straying across the wide 
 campaign, look like the blue veins on a lady's 
 white hand. The herds and flocks are mere 
 specks. How singular is this needle-like rock, 
 
60 The Good Old Times. 
 
 springing up close at hand, and crowned with 
 a church ! " 
 
 " That is the chapel of St. Michel ; it is not 
 built on the rock, but hewn out of the rock itself. 
 They call the rock L'Aiguilhe. There are two 
 hundred and eighteen steps cut in it, by which to 
 ascend to the chapel. Over the chapel-door is 
 carved a woman with a fish's tail." 
 
 " Hum ! Something like Dagon." 
 
 " They say idols were worshipped there for- 
 merly." 
 
 " Perhaps idols are worshipped there now." 
 
 " Hush ! — I know what you mean ; but you 
 should not say such things here. We are not in 
 the plains of Le Velay." 
 
 " Too many of us have real though secret idols 
 in our hearts," said Bertrand ; " worse ones, per- 
 haps, than those that are hewn out of wood and 
 stone, because they have a more deadening in- 
 fluence than an exterior object. For when some 
 hidden idol engrosses all our thoughts, the idea of 
 God grows gradually more dim. In many, this 
 secret idol is self." 
 
 " Who is that you are talking with, Colette ? " 
 cried her grandmother. 
 
The Good Old Times. 6 1 
 
 " Bertrand, grandmother." 
 
 " Bertrand ivho ? " 
 
 " How can I tell her what I don't know?" said 
 Colette, smiling at him. " Come in, and tell her 
 yourself. My poor aunt will, I think, like to see 
 you; but she is in very great pain this afternoon." 
 
 " Who are you ? " said Mere Suzanne, looking 
 at him sharply as he entered. 
 
 " Bertrand the pedlar, who owes a night's lodg- 
 ing to your good grandchildren. Will you buy 
 something ? " 
 
 " What have you got ? " 
 
 " You shall see," said he, taking from his 
 shoulders a much larger pack than he had carried 
 before ; and soon the table was covered with 
 alluring handkerchiefs, ribbons, and apron-pieces, 
 of the gayest dyes. 
 
 Selecting one of the prettiest aprons, he offered 
 it to Colette, saying, " I reserved this on purpose 
 for you, whenever I should find you, in grateful 
 remembrance of your hospitality." 
 
 "This is beautiful ! oh, thank you !" cried she, 
 with delight. " Look, aunt Marcelline ! " 
 
 Marcelline was half lying on a settle, so much 
 in the shade that Bertrand had not at first per- 
 
62 The Good Old Times. 
 
 ceived her. He carried some of his most tempting 
 wares towards her, that she might gratify her 
 curiosity without the trouble of rising ; leaving 
 the pack and the remainder of its contents at 
 the mercy of Mere Suzanne and Michel, who 
 turned them out very completely. 
 
 " That's pretty," said Marcelline. " Oh ! " 
 wincing with pain as she moved a little. 
 
 " You are suffering," said Bertrand compassion- 
 ately. " Can anything be done to relieve you ? " 
 
 " Alas, no ! I have spent all my money on 
 doctors, and all my energies in prayers." 
 
 " Can you sleep at night? " 
 
 " No ; that is the worst of it — I lie awake for 
 hours, unable to find respite from pain ; and that 
 is what makes me feel so unrefreshed all day." 
 
 " Leave that alone, my little man," said Ber- 
 trand hastily ; observing Michel trying to force 
 open a small box. He took it from him, and 
 returned with it to Marcelline. 
 
 " I have a few medicines in my pack," said 
 he, " and can give you one which, I think, may 
 afford you rest, even without knowing more of 
 your case than that you are sleepless. Will you 
 try it ? " 
 
The Good Old Times. 63 
 
 " Well, I hardly know. What is it ? " 
 
 " If I gave you a long name, would you be any 
 the wiser ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so ; I do not even know you." 
 
 " Will it do me any good to harm you ? " 
 
 " But you might harm me without intending 
 it." 
 
 " I might," he said, smiling ; but with such a 
 pleasant self-confidence in his look and tone, that 
 Marcelline could not help feeling an inclination 
 to trust him. 
 
 " Let me see it," said she. 
 
 " There it is. Now, how much wiser you 
 are ! " 
 
 " I like to examine it, nevertheless. I don't 
 know the smell." 
 
 " I am sure you do not." 
 
 " What is the price ? " 
 
 " I will give you a dose of it to-night, and call 
 to see how you are to-morrow." 
 
 " Are you lodging near us ? " 
 
 " I have not been lucky enough yet to find a 
 lodging, and have slept at a miserable auberge 
 near the market-place. .Do you take lodgers ? " 
 
 " No ; our house is full, now that my niece and 
 
64 The Good Old Times. 
 
 nephews are with us. But Genevieve Souvestre 
 might take you in — she lives only two doors off : 
 a poor widow woman ; but clean and obliging. 
 You are not particular about your accommodation, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 "Oh, no, so that I have a quiet room to 
 myself." 
 
 " To yourself ! I cannot say. Her son, Victor, 
 would perhaps share it with you." 
 
 " That would not be quite pleasant — however, 
 a pedlar must not be over-nice. I will go and 
 speak to her presently." 
 
 " And, meanwhile, I'll buy these aprons and 
 this piece of ribbon," said Mere Suzanne ; "but 
 they are too dear ! too dear ! " 
 
 " Well, what will you give me for them ? 
 Beat me down a little." And they laughed and 
 chaffered over the goods till Mere Suzanne made 
 a bargain quite to her satisfaction. 
 
 Michel was handling some small books, though 
 he could not read them. Colette gently took 
 them from him, and replaced them in the pack. 
 
 " I thought," said she to Bertrand, " you only 
 sold books." 
 
 " That would not do here. I am obliged to 
 
The Good Old Times. 6$ 
 
 hawk some more popular wares ; selling a book 
 here and there, where I have an opportunity. 
 Will you have one ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, gladly ! Choose me one I shall like 
 — how much ? " 
 
 " Oh, I can't take money from you. How do 
 you know you can trust me to choose you a good 
 book, any more than your aunt can trust me to 
 give her a good medicine ? " 
 
 " I do not know ; but, somehow, I do trust 
 you." 
 
 " Well, your trust shall not be misplaced. 
 Take this ; and if you like it, I will hereafter 
 give you one you will like still better." 
 
 So saying, he smilingly replaced the remainder 
 of his property in his pack, and bade them 
 farewell. 
 
 " I like that man's face," said Mere Suzanne, 
 " but he speaks such bad patois, there is scarcely 
 any understanding him." 
 
 " That is to say, he speaks French and not 
 patois," said Marcelline ; "but I understood him 
 very well." 
 
 When Christophe returned, he said, " Colette! 
 I've seen Gabrielle ! " and burst out laughing. 
 
 F 
 
66 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Is that the way you sympathize with her? " 
 said Colette. " You cannot be much in love, 
 I think." 
 
 " Why, we came upon one another so sud- 
 denly, I was taken by surprise, and could not 
 help grinning a little ; and she was so hurt by it 
 that though I truly told her the next moment, 
 that I was very sorry for her, she would not 
 believe it, and went away in anger. Where's 
 Michel ? " 
 
 " Leaning over the parapet, looking at L'Ai- 
 guilhe." 
 
 " Take care he does not fall over that parapet 
 some day." 
 
 " Oh, there is no danger — he is becoming- more 
 trustworthy every day, and I even think I shall 
 soon be able to let him go to the cathedral by 
 himself." 
 
 " Why should you ? " 
 
 " Because he is so fond of it, and it is not 
 always convenient to me to go when he wishes it." 
 
 Christophe made no answer, but went out and 
 joined Michel, sitting in his favourite position, 
 astride the low wall. Michel thought this clever, 
 and aspired to imitate it : but Colette rushed out 
 
The Good Old Times. 67 
 
 and drew him back, while Christophe shook his 
 head, frowned, and gave him to understand it 
 was not to be thought of. Then Colette, with 
 her hand still on Michel's shoulder, asked Chris- 
 tophe how he liked his master's brother-in-law, 
 Victor Souvestre. 
 
 Christophe chewed a straw for some time 
 without speaking ; and, on the question being 
 repeated, replied that there were some things he 
 liked in him ; others, not. 
 
 Beyond this oracular reply, he said nothing. 
 A fragment of the stone wall became dislodged 
 by his foot, and fell far down a perpendicular 
 descent into a small pool of water in a fissure 
 of the rock. Michel, delighted at hearing; the 
 splash, immediately began casting pebbles after 
 it ; and finally, when tired of this employment, 
 he began to fling small stones hither and thither, 
 setting up a wild, delighted laugh when they 
 rebounded against wall or rock. 
 
 " Oh, fie ! " said Colette, "you must not do 
 that ! See, you have hit the crucifix on the wall. 
 Fie, Michel ; pray, pray." 
 
 And she put up her joined hands in the atti- 
 tude of prayer towards the crucifix, as if in sup- 
 F 2 
 
68 The Good Old Times. 
 
 plication for forgiveness, meaning him to do the 
 same ; but Michel was naughty just then, and 
 would not follow the lead, but laughed and threw 
 more stones in the same direction, just escaping 
 the crucifix, — whether intentionally or not, it was 
 not easy to tell. Colette, who made a great 
 point of his implicit obedience, frowned and chid 
 him, without severity; and as his reckless humour 
 seemed rather increasing, the matter was be- 
 coming serious enough for Christophe to turn 
 about upon him with a grave " Come, youngster ! " 
 — when Michel, laughing, staggered into the 
 house ; and Colette followed him just as Fabien 
 came up to the door. 
 
 " So you have found us out at last," said 
 Christophe, cheerfully. " How's Gabrielle this 
 evening ? " 
 
 " She — why, you saw her yourself in the after- 
 noon, so you know pretty well. Why did Colette 
 go away directly she saw me ? " 
 
 " She is gone to send Michel to bed," said 
 Christophe. " I don't believe she saw you." 
 
 " I know she did, though ! She didn't turn 
 her head, but she turned her eye." 
 
 " She'll be here again directly," said Chris- 
 
The Good Old Times, 69 
 
 tophe, " or else we will go in and look after her. 
 How do you like your new work '? " 
 
 " Like that ! " snapping his fingers. " The pay 
 is good, but the master crusty." 
 
 " Never mind that, since he pays well." 
 
 " I don't know — we shall see." And they 
 began to talk over their several employments, 
 employers, fellow-workmen, and wages. 
 
 " I wonder Colette don't come, though," said 
 Fabien presently, having kept his eye all the while 
 on the door; " suppose we go in." 
 
 " Oh, it is pleasanter here, in the fresh air. 
 My grandmother has been making a decoction of 
 rue ; you won't like the kitchen." 
 
 " I doubt if my nose is as quick-scented as 
 some people's," said Fabien. " Onions, now ! 
 I like them." 
 
 " So do I, — to eat ; but not for a nosegay." 
 They continued to chat in a desultory way, till it 
 grew dark, and they could see Colette lighting 
 a lamp, which threw her pretty profile in shadow 
 against the wall. 
 
 " She's there now, at any rate," said Fabien. 
 " Come, let us go in." 
 
jo The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Rue and all," said Christophe reluctantly, as 
 he prepared to quit his favourite hobby. 
 
 Just then, a handsome, smart-looking young 
 mechanic passed them, nodded blithely to Chris- 
 tophe, and went into the house. 
 
 " Who's that? " said Fabien quickly. 
 
 " Souvestre, a fellow-workman of mine, a 
 capital fellow. My grandmother knows him very 
 well — he's always out and in." 
 
 Fabien followed Christophe into the kitchen, 
 but with a brow as dark as night. Victor was 
 already established en ami intime immediately 
 before the fire, setting chestnuts to roast, which 
 he pulled out of his pocket, and singing — 
 
 " Ahi, bouladge ! Ahi, bouladge ! " 
 
Chapter VI. 
 
 Where the Shoe pinches. 
 
 " IT) UE, indeed ! I'll rue them ! — or rather, 
 make them rue," muttered Fabien between 
 his teeth, as he left Mere Suzanne's kitchen that 
 night. They had been very merry round the fire, 
 roasting the chestnuts and burning their fingers ; 
 but, somehow, Fabien had not shone. He was 
 jealous of Victor's position in the circle, jealous 
 of his laughing ease, and good looks ; and thought 
 Colette very provoking in bestowing more smiles 
 on him than on himself. He comforted himself 
 with, "Ah, well, I'll bring her some chestnuts 
 to-morrow ; " but still he could not feel friendly 
 towards her or Victor : and, before the evening 
 ended, they had a downright -misunderstanding. 
 This was smoothed over, chiefly for manners; but 
 Fabien went home sulky. 
 
 As for Victor, he left the house half an hour 
 afterwards with a gay smile on his lips ; but this 
 
j 2 The Good Old Times. 
 
 did not last to his own home, which was next 
 door but one; and in place of going in to bed, he 
 leant over the parapet, chewing the cud of his 
 own meditations for half an hour or more. When 
 his mother, at length spying him out, begged him 
 to come in, as she wanted to lock up for the 
 night, he obeyed her in silence, and ate his supper 
 moodily, while she told him that her new lodger 
 had already retired to bed. 
 
 When Victor entered the room where he ex- 
 pected to find Bertrand asleep, he saw, by the 
 light of the moon, that he was on his knees. So 
 he undressed, and took possession of his own bed 
 before the pedlar had ended his prayers, and lay 
 as still as a mouse for about an hour. 
 
 At the end of that time, he began to toss about 
 and sigh heavily. Bertrand asked him if he were 
 in pain, to which he shortly replied in the nega- 
 tive, and then lay very quiet. 
 
 Bertrand now lay awake ; but apparently the 
 youth fell into uneasy sleep, from which he pre- 
 sently awoke himself by saying, " I wish you were 
 dead ! " 
 
 " Me ? " cried the pedlar. 
 
 " No," crustily replied Victor, ashamed of 
 
The Good Old Tunes. 73 
 
 having spoken. " Why do you lie awake there, 
 listening to my thoughts ? " 
 
 " My good fellow, I lie awake only because you 
 keep me awake. I hope it will be allowed for in 
 your bill." 
 
 Victor gave an unwilling grunt, meant for a 
 laugh of courtesy. 
 
 "Who did you wish dead?" 
 
 "Care." 
 
 " Hum ! I never was so imaginative as to 
 personify care, and talk to it." 
 
 " Very likely." 
 
 " Allow me to ask — in all civility — are you 
 in love?" 
 
 "In love!" repeated Victor, laughing scorn- 
 fully. " My care is about another sort of thing, 
 I assure you. Besides," in a gentler voice, " if I 
 were in love, what is that to you ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon for so impertinent a 
 question." 
 
 " Oh, no I " groaned Victor, " that's not it — 
 though I may be a little in love too. The fact is, 
 I have a job of work to do, that I don't like doing 
 at all." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
74 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Wait till you know what it is, before you 
 think that not enough." 
 
 " Well," said Bertrand, after a pause of about 
 five minutes, "have I waited long enough?" 
 
 " Why, you didn't think I was going to tell 
 you — did you ? " 
 
 " I was under that impression." 
 
 " A mistake — quite a mistake ! Good night ! " 
 
 " Good night ! " 
 
 " I say . " resumed Victor presently. 
 
 "Well," said Bertrand, rousing up. 
 
 " I saw you saying your prayers before you 
 went to bed " 
 
 " I didn't see you say yours." 
 
 " That's neither here nor there. To whom were 
 you praying ? " 
 
 " Is not that as inquisitive a question as mine 
 was to you? However, I will tell you — to God." 
 
 "Why not to our Black Lady ? " 
 
 " I know nothing of your Black Lady, and am 
 not of the opinion that she knows much of me." 
 
 " Ha! Do you know you have said a dan- 
 gerous thing ? " 
 
 " Young man, I never falter at danger, when it 
 is in connexion with truth." 
 
The Good Old Times. 7 § 
 
 " That's fine ! " cried Victor, starting up. " Do 
 you find you can act it out ? " 
 
 " Thus far, I have done so." 
 
 " You seem sincere — I wonder if you are safe. 
 Who are you ? " 
 
 " Why should you suppose me anything but 
 what I seem ? I see no occasion for relating my 
 history." 
 
 " No, — and yet — I should like to think you 
 were honest." 
 
 " Try me ! — trust me ! " 
 
 " Come, I will. Of course, you know that we 
 possess one of the Virgin's shoes ? " 
 
 " No, I did not," said Bertrand, laughing. 
 " What, you and your mother ? " 
 
 " No, no ; we people of Le Puy — our cathedral. 
 It was bestowed on us by St. George." 
 
 " Oh, indeed 1 Why did not he give you the 
 pair ? " 
 
 " Well, I suppose others have asked that ques- 
 tion so often that the Bishop begins to find it 
 inconvenient. At any rate, he had me up to him 
 to-day, privately, to ask me to make its fellow. 
 Now, this staggered me." 
 "Why should it?" 
 
y6 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Why ! — why, because he charged me to keep 
 the matter close. The shoe is, doubtless, to be 
 supposed to be supplied by a miracle ! " 
 
 " I always understood your Bishop was a clever 
 man," said Bertrand, " but this proves him to be 
 a very silly one. Why could he not have sent the 
 pattern shoe to Paris, with orders for another to 
 match it, without saying a word about the use 
 that was to be made of it?" 
 
 " Because that would have taken time and 
 trouble," said Victor, " and he fancied himself 
 quite certain of me. But, you see, a fraud sticks 
 in my throat ; and not only that, but the fraud 
 about the new shoe makes me doubt in the 
 old one ! " 
 
 " Doubt in it ! " cried Bertrand, " why, who 
 ever made it the anchor of your faith ? You may 
 go to heaven, I suppose, without faith in an old 
 shoe ! " 
 
 " Ah, but it shakes my faith in better and 
 higher things, because we have them all on the 
 same authority." 
 
 " That I deny." 
 
 " But can you prove that we do not? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
The Good Old Times. jj 
 
 And a conversation ensued between them which 
 was destined to have important results. 
 
 When Mere Suzanne and her family assembled 
 at breakfast the next morning, Michel was not 
 forthcoming. Colette went to call him, and 
 found him so soundly asleep that she tried in 
 vain to rouse him. She thought he might as 
 well have his nap out, and they breakfasted 
 without him. 
 
 An hour or so afterwards she went to him 
 again, and found him still in such profound repose, 
 that she became frightened, and shook him 
 roughly. After two or three shakes, he awoke, 
 looking rather mazy, but, seeing her, smiled, and 
 rose up without a word. When he was dressed, 
 she gave him his breakfast, which he did not seem 
 to care for ; and, after one or two spoonfuls, he 
 left it, and went out to the parapet wall, whereon 
 he lay all along, basking in the warm autumn sun, 
 in that drowsy kind of state in which cretins pass 
 the greater part of their lives. 
 
 Meanwhile Bertrand looked in on Marcelline. 
 
 " How are you this morning ? " said he. 
 
 " Much easier, thank you," she replied. 
 
 " Did you sleep well V 
 
yS The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 " I knew you would !" 
 
 '* Did you ? " said she, smiling. " Then how is 
 it that such a sagacious person does not also know 
 that I did not take his medicine ? " 
 
 " Oh, why not?" said Bertrand, looking disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 " I lost it." 
 
 " Then Michel must have taken it," exclaimed 
 Colette. " I now remember seeing him chewing 
 something and making wry faces, yesterday, after 
 Bertrand left us. I put my finger towards his 
 mouth, intending to take out what was in it, but 
 he gulped it down, made another wry face, and 
 went away smiling." 
 
 " Well, he had a good night, I fancy, at any 
 rate," said Bertrand. 
 
 " We could hardly waken him this morning ; 
 and he is quite stupid still." 
 
 " So that, altogether, T am glad I did not take 
 the drug myself," said Marcelline, " since you see, 
 I had a good night without it, and can ascribe it 
 to God's direct goodness, without the intervention 
 of any means." 
 
 " That is a very good way of viewing it," said 
 
The Good Old Times, 79 
 
 Bertrand. " How often we lose the benefit and 
 comfort of direct communion with God, by inter- 
 posing this and that object between us ! With 
 regard to the intercessions of saints, for instance. 
 — That young lad is wide awake enough now, 
 I see ! He is flinging stones." 
 
 " He learnt that of Christophe," said Colette, 
 hastily going to the door. " Michel ! you must 
 not do that ! " 
 
 Michel paused for a moment with a stone in 
 his hand, uncertain whether to fling it or not. 
 Just then, the cathedral bell began to ring for 
 prayers ; and, dropping the stone, he was moving 
 off towards the cathedral, but Colette led him 
 back to the porch, and gave him a toy to play 
 with. 
 
 She found Bertrand and Marcelline in con- 
 versation that seemed to interest them both ; and 
 her aunt's face was so lighted up and free from its 
 usual look of pain, that Colette, for the first time, 
 was struck by its latent beauty. She drew near 
 them, and soon became an attentive listener ; for 
 they were discussing some of the vital themes 
 which were then beginning to agitate all France. 
 Time insensibly passed on, till Bertrand remem- 
 
80 The Good Old Times. 
 
 bered he had business which called him elsewhere, 
 and prepared to depart. 
 
 " Where's Michel ? " cried Colette, in dismay, 
 neither seeing him in the porch nor anywhere 
 in sight. 
 
 Her first impulse was to run and look over the 
 cliff, but she saw no trace of him. Then she ran 
 down the row of houses, asking the lacemakers 
 who sat at their doors, if they had seen him pass. 
 One of them said, yes ; — the others had been too 
 deep in gossip to notice him. 
 
 " He has, doubtless, gone towards the cathe- 
 dral," said Colette. " How wrong I was to lose 
 sight of him so long ! " 
 
 " Never fear," said Bertrand, who had come up 
 with her, " he cannot travel very fast at his best ; 
 I will look about for him." 
 
 " Thank you ; but I must likewise look for him 
 myself. How wrong I was ! " 
 
 Close within the cathedral choir she found 
 Michel perfectly safe, kneeling a little apart from 
 the rest, and looking on with an air of profound 
 but bewildered 'awe at the imposing scene before 
 him ; while the music that was pealing around 
 seemed to excite in him a mute ecstasy. 
 
The Good Old Times. 
 
 81 
 
 Colette, thankful to have found him, knelt down 
 by his side, and joined in the devotions. Then, 
 when the service was over, she took his hand 
 and led him home. 
 
Chapter VII. 
 
 Lost, Stolen, or Strayed. 
 
 PT^HE next morning, Michel was missing again. 
 Colette, provoked with herself for having 
 lost sight of him for a few minutes, ran down 
 towards the cathedral, with very little alarm, being 
 persuaded she should find him within its pre- 
 cincts. The upper town was as quiet as usual ; 
 here and there an open door showed a busy 
 housewife preparing the soup, or a pale lacemaker 
 twisting her bobbins, but all in such quiet that 
 the mewing of a stray kitten might be heard from 
 one end of the quarter to the other. In the 
 Place de Breuil, however, it was widely different — 
 groups of townspeople talking loud, or gaping in 
 stupid wonder, were assembled under the tall old 
 trees, or in the open space in the midst of the 
 picturesque square. She was too much pre- 
 occupied to pay great attention to any affairs but 
 
The Good Old Times. 83 
 
 her own ; but she heard, without much heedine, a 
 few broken sentences, such as " A Sacramentarian 
 must have done it." — " I thought we had none 
 here." — " Don't believe it ! They have their secret 
 meetings and pass-words everywhere." — "There 
 are strangers lurking about the town." — " They 
 say the boy has done it." 
 
 It was not service-time, but Colette swiftly 
 passed through the open door of the cathedral, 
 and glided through and around the interior, look- 
 ing everywhere for Michel, but in vain. She 
 asked two or three persons if they had seen him, 
 but was answered in the negative. Her uneasi- 
 ness now became great ; she renewed her search, 
 hoping to find him in some nook or corner, per- 
 haps asleep : at length, in great trouble, she went 
 forth, and descended the steps, inquiring of the 
 relic-sellers, " Have you seen my brother?" They 
 were chattering to each other, and gave her little 
 heed, answering- in the negative. 
 
 Then she entered the steep, narrow, noisy 
 streets, not knowing which direction to take, and 
 inquired at a few shops where she had had small 
 dealings. Quitting one of these, she almost ran 
 against her friendly old neighbour Gregoire, whom 
 G 2 
 
84 The Good Old Times. 
 
 she eagerly asked her often- repeated question, 
 " Have you seen my brother? " 
 
 " I know where he is," replied he, " and was 
 coming to tell you. They have carried him before 
 the Bishop and Chapter." 
 
 " Before the Bishop and Chapter ! " 
 " And all along of my own stupid son, I am 
 sorry to say. An outrage has been committed 
 during the night ; a crucifix has been broken to 
 pieces and destroyed, and the clergy are out- 
 rageous and have stirred up the people, who are 
 in a great tumult also, as they venerated it much; 
 and every one is afraid of being accused of having 
 done it." 
 
 " What has that to do with Michel ? " 
 " My boy Fabien, hearing people talk of it in 
 the street, foolishly said, ' I know a young chap 
 that has thrown stones at it' — which somebody 
 caught up and carried to the authorities, who, to 
 his no small surprise, had him taken into custody. 
 I was from home, and knew nothing of what had 
 passed till a neighbour told me Fabien had been 
 summoned before the consuls. I hastened after 
 him, but was too late. He had been examined, 
 and had admitted that, an evening or two ago, 
 
The Good Old Times. 85 
 
 he had seen poor Michel casting stones at a 
 crucifix." 
 
 " Oh ! how could he ? " cried Colette, with 
 
 tears of grief and indignation bursting from her 
 eyes. 
 
 " So they had sent to apprehend Michel," con- 
 tinued Gregoire, " without regarding Fabien's 
 saying he was half silly ; because, look you, if 
 they could prove it against him, everybody else 
 would be cleared." 
 
 " Of course, — poor, afflicted orphan ! " sobbed 
 Colette. " I must go to him." 
 
 " Don't give way so," said the good natured 
 farmer, " for, doubtless, he is either set free by 
 this time or will be so directly ; — you know they 
 can't punish a fool ! " 
 
 "Knaves may," said Colette bitterly; "they 
 may say he is less a fool than he seems. I must 
 go!" 
 
 "And I must go with you," said Gregoire, 
 " and would do so even though your trouble 
 were not brought about by my own son. He 
 might as well have kept his tongue between his 
 teeth." 
 
 " Malicious ! " 
 
86 The Good Old rimes. 
 
 " No, no ; don't say that, Colette ; but very, 
 very stupid. Ha ! see, here comes Christophe ! 
 — and Michel with him ! " 
 
 Colette flew towards them, and overwhelmed 
 Michel with a shower of kisses and tears. His 
 face was smeared with crying, already ; he was 
 breathing hard, and looked heated, frightened, 
 and more bewildered than ever. 
 
 Christophe also was very hot, and much 
 agitated. 
 
 " How angry you must be with me, Chris- 
 tophe," said Colette, sobbing, " for losing sight 
 of him." 
 
 " If you had n't, it would have been just the 
 same," said Christophe ; " the consuls had given 
 orders for his being taken before them, and you 
 could not have hindered it; but Fabien — " and 
 his eyes flashed fire. 
 
 "Ah, you attribute to him worse feeling than 
 he had," interposed Gregoire, " but I can't expect 
 you to have patience with him just now. Tell us 
 how it all happened." 
 
 " I was at work, when Souvestre came in 
 breathlessly, and said, 'They are taking your 
 brother before the consuls, I know not for what/ 
 
The Good Old Times. 87 
 
 Of course, I started up, crying, ' Come with me,' 
 and we ran off together, and got to the door just 
 as the constables were taking him in. There was 
 such a crowd that at first I could not get near 
 him, till I cried, ' Pray let me pass — I'm his 
 brother — he's a cretin.' Then they made way 
 for me, and I got nearly up to him, but not quite, 
 but near enough to exchange looks ; and his were 
 so frightened ! — " 
 
 Christophe's throat swelled, and he was obliged 
 to pause for a moment. Gregoire kindly laid his 
 hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " I'm out of breath," said Christophe, to 
 excuse his emotion to himself. " Well, to my 
 surprise, who should I see but Bertrand the 
 pedlar in custody, along with Michel. Victor 
 drew my attention to it ; and having his mind 
 more disengaged than mine was, he said to some 
 one near him, ' Hallo, how comes that pedlar 
 under arrest ? what has he done ? ' ' Nothing, 
 that I know of,' said the other, who it seems 
 lives in our quarter, a few doors below us, ' but 
 he is suspected of a good deal. I was sharpening 
 a clasp-knife on my door-step, the idiot-boy 
 standing by and looking on, when the constables 
 
88 The Good Old rimes. 
 
 came up, laid hold of him, and said, "You must 
 come along with us ! " I jumped up, and cried, 
 " Hold ! don't take the poor child, he's a fool " — 
 " Knave or fool, he must come before the consuls," 
 said one of the constables, " for he's under sus- 
 picion." So I seized my cap and prepared to go 
 with them, not liking, d'ye see, to stand by while 
 a neighbour's child was endangered : and started 
 forth, with only time to call out to my wife, 
 " Michel is in custody — tell Colette ! " — whether 
 she heard me or no, I had not time to ascertain. 
 And, just as we were going by your door, out 
 came that man. " How now, Michel," says he, 
 " where are they taking you ? " On which, one of 
 the constables, turning about, collared him, and 
 said, " To the same place we are going to take 
 you, master ; for you are under suspicion, for 
 more than one thing, I can tell you ! " The 
 pedlar looked surprised, but did not offer any 
 resistance, and I suppose we shall soon hear what 
 they have to allege against him.' All the while 
 the man was saying this, we were pushing through 
 the door and up the stairs ; and presently we got 
 into the justice-hall, but quite at the back of the 
 crowd. However, I could catch glimpses, now 
 
The Good Old Times. 89 
 
 and then, of the Bishop, and other ecclesiastics, 
 sitting at the upper end. They asked Michel who 
 he was ; he could not answer intelligibly. They 
 were repeating the question more roughly, when 
 I cried out, 'He's a cretin — I'm his brother!' 
 So then they had me forward, and I told how he 
 was half-witted from his birth ; and Fabien con- 
 firmed it, in a blundering, dogged sort of a way, 
 and said he'd never said the boy broke down and 
 destroyed the crucifix — he had only seen him 
 throw stones. I cried indignantly, ' Pebbles ! — 
 Could these hands cast stones ? ' — and held one 
 of them up, by the poor, dangling wrist. There 
 was a murmur in the court. The Bishop said, 
 ' But the will was evil, if not the deed. Why cast 
 even a pebble at the holy sign of our redemption? 
 The child must have been ill-taught.' I said, 
 ' My lord Bishop, he was taught his prayers in 
 his infancy, and murmurs them, in his inarticulate 
 fashion, day and night, and has a profound rever- 
 ence for holy things, and would live constantly, if 
 he could, in the cathedral.' " 
 
 " Well said, Christophe ! " exclaimed Gregoire 
 and Colette. 
 
 "Well, the Bishop said so too," observed 
 
90 The Good Old Times. 
 
 Christophe, stroking his hair with complacence ; 
 " and after a good many more questions, to find 
 out whether we were at all liable to suspicion, 
 either as sacrilegious ourselves, or accustomed to 
 associate with the sacrilegious, Michel was pro- 
 nounced nompus compus, or something of that 
 sort, and set free — and glad enough I was to 
 pounce upon him and bring him off." 
 
 "And what became of Bertrand?" inquired 
 Gregoire. 
 
 " Truth to say," replied Christophe lightly, 
 " he was not so important to me as my only 
 brother, and I did not trouble my head about 
 him. Doubtless, he will be let off too, unless he 
 be really convicted of something wrong ; and then, 
 you know, he will deserve to be punished." 
 
 " How can such a man as that be convicted of 
 destroying the crucifix ? " said Gregoire, rather 
 angrily. 
 
 " Why, what do you know of him ? " said 
 Christophe, with surprise. " Have you ever seen 
 him since we journeyed together to Le Puy ?" 
 
 "Yes, daily; — however, that's neither here 
 nor there ; but a man such as his discourse 
 tells you he is, might attempt to convert you 
 
The Good Old Times. 9 1 
 
 by argument, but would not destroy public 
 property." 
 
 " Perhaps not," said Christophe, " but we 
 know so little, — at least, I know so little about 
 him (and I did not suppose that you knew more), 
 that I'm not quite prepared to take up the cudgels 
 about him. Still, I shall be glad to know he's 
 safe, now that I am at ease about Michel ; and if 
 you will stay to dine with us, I dare say we shall 
 be able to hear everything from Victor, who will 
 be returning to dinner too, and who stayed to 
 hear the matter out. He lives but two doors off, 
 and I'll fetch him in." 
 
 " Well, — I will gladly do so," said Gregoire, 
 who by this time had accompanied them nearly to 
 their own door. " I shall renew with pleasure 
 my acquaintance with Mere Suzanne and your 
 good aunt Marcelline ; and I confess I shall be 
 anxious to know what passed between the consuls 
 and Bertrand." 
 
 Marcelline, who knew nothing of what had 
 been occurring, received Gregoire cheerfully, and 
 looked with surprise at the excited faces of 
 Colette and Christophe. 
 
 "What is the matter?" said she. 
 
92 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Michel has been before the consuls," said 
 Colette, bursting into tears. 
 
 Marcelline looked petrified ; and Christophe, 
 seeing his sister unable to speak, repeated the 
 story. 
 
 Marcelline brushed away a few tears ; and just 
 then, Mere Suzanne entered, wiping the dough 
 off her hands, (for she had been bread-making,) 
 and the tale had to be told all over again, inter- 
 rupted by continual interjections from the garru- 
 lous old lady, who ended by hugging and kissing 
 Michel, and leaving his face streaked with flour. 
 Colette, meantime, was working off her super- 
 fluous excitement by laying the cloth, arranging 
 the silver forks and spoons, fetching a curious 
 old " parcel-gilt goblet," only used on rare 
 occasions, for Gregoire, dressing the salad, and 
 pouring out the soup. Christophe went to look 
 for Victor, but came back without him, saying he 
 had not returned ; and Gregoire, looking disap- 
 pointed, sat down with the rest, and began to eat 
 his dinner abstractedly. Some desultory specu- 
 lations were made as to who had destroyed the 
 crucifix ; but Colette was silent, and her eyes 
 filled whenever she turned them towards Michel, 
 
The Good Old Times. 93 
 
 who was supping his milk porridge as if nothing 
 had happened, daubing himself terribly during 
 the process. Marcelline, who had had no anxiety 
 about him before seeing him to be safe, had 
 thoughts sufficiently disengaged from him to 
 bestow some anxious ones on Bertrand, and 
 Mere Suzanne soon had nearly all the conversa- 
 tion to herself. 
 
 Christophe soon rose from the table, to look 
 after Victor, and went out and did not imme- 
 diately come back. Gregoire, having waited for 
 him a little with ill-concealed impatience, arose 
 to depart. Just as he was awaiting the end of 
 Mere Suzanne's long history of the silver tan- 
 kard, Victor came in, looking pale and serious, 
 and was followed by Christophe. 
 
 " They have him in ward," said he, in an 
 undertone ; " the examination was a long and 
 unsatisfactory one." 
 
 Christophe gave him a chair, and they all sat 
 down around him, except Michel, who fell sound 
 asleep in a corner. 
 
 " They asked him his name," said Victor. 
 •'He gave it: 'Bertrand.' 'Bertrand what?' 
 ' Bertrand de la Vigne.' ' Melan de la Vigne,' 
 
94 5T&? Goo*/ 0/*/ Tunes. 
 
 cried somebody ; ' ask him if his name be not 
 Melan.' But he was meanwhile being interro- 
 gated as to his calling. ' A pedlar.' ' Where 
 was his licence?' He produced it. His name 
 there stood Beltran. ' That was an error ; and 
 the d final had been accidentally effaced by some 
 acid.' ' Was he sure his name was not Melan ? ' 
 ' Quite sure.' ' Had he never heard of the name 
 Melan in connexion with de la Vigne ? ' ' Oh, 
 yes ; there was or had been a Melan de la 
 Vigne in Meaux.' ' Was he any relation of his?' 
 Bertrand was silent. The Bishop then repeated 
 the question authoritatively. ' Yes, that Melan 
 had been his uncle, but he was dead.' ' Had he 
 not been a heretic?' 'No.' 'What was he?' 
 'A bookseller.' ' Booksellers are never heretics, 
 of course,' said somebody, half aside, on which 
 others laughed ; but were silenced by a frown 
 from the Bishop. ' How long had Bertrand 
 been a pedlar?' 'About a year.' 'But his 
 licence was made out for a longer time.' ' Yes, 
 but he had not used it.' ' What had he pre- 
 viously been ? ' 'A printer.' ' At Meaux ? ' 
 ' No, not at Meaux.' ' Where then ? ' 'At 
 Paris.' ' How long? ' ' Several years.' ' How 
 
The Good Old Times. 95 
 
 many?' 'Five.' 'That only accounted for a 
 small part of his life — how old was he?' ' Forty.' 
 ' Where was he born ? ' 'In Paris ? ' ' What 
 was his name ? ' ' Bertrand de la Vigne.' " 
 
 " He had said that before," said Marcelline. 
 
 " Yes, but they wanted to catch him up. They 
 had hoped he would say Melan. ' What were 
 the names of his parents ? ' ' Bertrand and 
 Desiree de la Vigne.' ' How many uncles had 
 he?' 'None.' 'None?' 'He had had one, 
 Melan, who was dead.' ' What was his father ? ' 
 ' A printer.' ' Had he worked under his father ? ' 
 ' Yes.' ' Were those the five years he had 
 spoken of ? ' ' No, those were since he had 
 come to man's estate.' ' How many brothers 
 and sisters had he ? ' ' He had had two of each, 
 but one brother had died in infancy, and both 
 his sisters had died young.' ' What were 
 his brothers' names?' ' Antoine and Melan.' 
 'Humph! — Which had died?' 'Antoine.' 
 ' Where was Melan ? ' ' He did not know.' 
 'Was he alive?' 'He could not tell.' 'Was 
 he a heretic?' 'He could not say.' 'What 
 was he?' 'He could not affirm.' 'What had 
 he been?' 'A very good man.' 'What had 
 
96 The Good Old Times. 
 
 been his mode of life?' 'That of a saint.' 
 ' But what was his occupation or calling ? ' 
 ' Doing good.' ' How ? ' 'By teaching.' ' Teach- 
 ing what ? ' ' The will of God.' ' Was he a 
 priest?' ' He had been intended for one.' ' But 
 had never taken holy orders ? ' ' No.' ' In fact, 
 he was a heretic ? ' ' No.' ' What then ? ' 'As 
 good a Christian as ever lived.' ' Had he ever 
 been called a heretic ? ' ' Nay, that did not prove 
 him one, any more than if he, Bertrand, were to 
 call one of the worshipful consuls so, it would 
 prove him one.' (The consuls crossed themselves 
 at this, in holy horror.) ' What was he doing in 
 Le Puy ? ' ' Selling handkerchiefs, ribbons, and 
 such-like.' ' What else ? ' ' Going from house 
 to house.' ' What else ? ' ' Eating such things 
 as were set before him.' " 
 
 " Served 'em right," cried Mere Suzanne, " I 
 wonder at the man's patience, when they so 
 badgered him." 
 
 " Well, they went on in this style two hours or 
 more," said Victor ; " in short, till the apprehen- 
 sion of somebody else gave them something else 
 to do. They asked him his name again and 
 again, trying to make him betray that it was 
 
T/ie Good Old 'Times. 97 
 
 Melan. They tried to make it out he had had 
 some hand in breaking the crucifix ; but there I 
 came to his aid ; for it had unquestionably been 
 done in the night, and I took an oath that we 
 had slept in the same room all night long." 
 
 " It was a pity you should get mixed up with 
 him, though," said Mere Suzanne. 
 
 " Not at all," said Victor; " it was my plain 
 duty." 
 
 " He did quite right," said Gregoire and 
 Christophe decisively. 
 
 " Quite right," echoed Marcelline and Colette. 
 
 " Then they catechized me," continued Victor ; 
 " but I soon satisfied them, especially as I said, 
 ' My lord Bishop knows me well,' — giving him a 
 look out of the corner of my eye." 
 
 " Why, what does he know of you ? " said 
 Marcelline. 
 
 " That's of no moment just now," replied 
 Victor. " It was quite sufficient. He said 
 briefly, he knew me for a simple, honest fellow, 
 and they immediately ceased examining me ; and 
 it went some way with them with respect to 
 Bertrand, too ; for they said, ' We have given 
 sufficient attention to this case at present, as 
 
 H 
 
98 The Good Old Times. 
 
 there are many others to examine ; let the man 
 be remanded till to-morrow.' ' 
 
 " What a shame ! " cried Marcelline. " Why 
 could they not have dismissed him ? They ought 
 to have done so." 
 
 " 'Ought' and 'did' are different things," said 
 Victor. " So he was marched off under arrest. 
 My own opinion is that he is Melan de la Vigne, 
 after all ! " 
 
Chapter VIII. 
 
 The Mysterious Stranger. 
 
 ,r 1VT"0, he is not/' said Gregoire abruptly. 
 
 •*- ' " How do you know? " cried Victor, with 
 surprise. 
 
 " Because I have seen Melan. But, no matter 
 for that. You may believe every word this man 
 has said — he is a truth-teller." 
 
 " I am convinced of it myself, short as my 
 knowledge of him has been. A man who prays 
 and talks as he does, must have the fear of God 
 before him." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so," said Gregoire, 
 cordially stretching out his hand to him. " Surely, 
 we all think alike of him here ? " 
 
 " I believe so," said Christophe, looking rather 
 doubtfully towards his grandmother. 
 
 " Oh, the man's a good man," said Mere Su- 
 zanne, "and I'm sorry they have him in ward." 
 h 2 
 
I oo The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Then let us pray for his release," said Gre- 
 goire. " When St. Peter was cast into prison, 
 prayer was made without ceasing of the church 
 for him, and we know with what success. Let 
 us pray." 
 
 And reverently kneeling down, in which he was 
 joined by all his companions, though Mere Su- 
 zanne looked a little surprised, the good farmer 
 offered up a short fervent prayer. When they 
 arose, he again grasped Victor's hand, said some- 
 thing in an under tone to him and to Christophe, 
 which received an affirmative reply from both, 
 and then briefly bidding the women farewell, he 
 took up his cap and departed. The two young 
 men talked to one another at the window for a 
 short time, and then returned to their work, 
 leaving Mere Suzanne, Marcelline, and Colette 
 rather mystified at what had been going on during 
 the last few minutes. 
 
 " And, all this while, not a drop of water in the 
 house ! " exclaimed Mere Suzanne, whose thoughts 
 were always eminently practical. 
 
 Marcelline, who had been about to speak, me- 
 chanically turned towards the large pitcher she 
 had been accustomed to fill at the fountain, and 
 
The Good Old Times. 101 
 
 was raising it with a look of weariness, when 
 Colette smilingly took it from her and hastened 
 forth. 
 
 When she returned with her burden, which 
 was in somewhat less than an houi*, Marcelline 
 gratefully lifted it down and thanked her for 
 saving her such a painful labour. 
 
 " Oh, I had my reward," said Colette cheer- 
 fully ; "for there is always plenty of gossip going 
 on among the water-carriers." 
 
 " Well mayst thou say so, child," cried Mere 
 Suzanne ; " many a match is made and marred, 
 many a good name evil spoken of, and many an 
 absolute lie circulated among those idle baggages. 
 Well, and what were they saying to-day ? some- 
 thing they had better have held their tongues 
 about, I'll warrant thee." 
 
 " Well, grandmother, they were chiefly talking 
 about this affair of the crucifix, because some of 
 them had husbands or brothers who had been 
 arrested or examined, and they were very indignant 
 about it and rather frightened. There were a few 
 who held their peace, and heard everything with 
 looks that seemed to betray they did not agree 
 with the others. But what think you, grand- 
 
102 The Good Old Times. 
 
 mother ? They say the Terrible Baron is coming 
 to sack Le Puy ! " 
 
 " Sack Le Puy ! " cried Mere Suzanne with 
 ineffable disdain. " Let him only come and try, 
 that's all ! I fancy he would break his teeth on 
 our stone walls. Why, the women might keep 
 him off with their mops ! " 
 
 " Ah, don't talk in that way, mother, I pray 
 you," said Marcelline ; "if there be one thing 
 more than another that makes me superstitious, 
 it is boasting. Evil is sure to follow it." 
 
 And sighing deeply, she took some of the water 
 from the pitcher Colette had filled, and began to 
 wash the six silver spoons and forks. 
 
 " Michel has bitten this spoon," said she ; " he 
 must have a leaden one." 
 
 " He'll bite a leaden spoon through and 
 through," said Mere Suzanne ; " but I have a 
 nice bone one somewhere, that will do for him 
 exactly, if I can but find it. I may as well hunt 
 for it at once." 
 
 Christophe did not return to supper at the usual 
 time. The days were now very short; Colette went 
 to look out for him, and, in the dusk, thought 
 she saw him coming ; but it proved to be Fabien. 
 
The Good Old Times. 103 
 
 " Why, Fabien," said she indignantly, *' I 
 wonder you are not ashamed to show your face 
 among us ! " 
 
 " Don't be angry with me," said Fabien, "you 
 know I meant no harm — who could have thought 
 they would arrest a cretin ? " 
 
 " It was very mean of you to tell tales," re- 
 torted Colette, " and I can't forgive you. You 
 know very well, he only cast pebbles at random, 
 and could not have hit the crucifix if it had been 
 to save his life." 
 
 " Of course, I knew it," said Fabien humbly, 
 " and thought they would know it too — I only 
 named him just to divert their attention. In 
 short, I can't think how his name ever slipped 
 out of my mouth. You know very well, Colette, 
 I would not harm anything belonging to you." 
 
 " Well, I hope you will never do us such an 
 ill turn again," said she, softening a little. " 'Had 
 I wist ' is a poor compensation when the mischief 
 is done." 
 
 " Gabrielle wants you to come down and sup 
 with us," said Fabien. " Will you come ? " 
 . " Not to-night, thank you — I am wondering 
 why Christophe does not return." 
 
104 Th e G°°d Old Times. 
 
 " Oh, I can tell you — he and his friend Sou- 
 vestre are with us. My father is getting up a 
 prayer-meeting, or something of that sort ; so, as 
 I could very well be spared, I thought, as they 
 were there, I could be here. Exchange is no 
 robbery, you know," said Fabien, with an em- 
 barrassed laugh ; " and I've brought you some 
 chestnuts." 
 
 " Thank you," said Colette, with indifference, 
 as he emptied his pockets, " though I am not 
 particularly fond of them." 
 
 " There, now ! Why, did not you say those 
 that Souvestre roasted for you were the best you 
 had ever eaten ? " 
 
 " Oh, Fabien ! — As if you two could have but 
 one idea between you ! — They might have been 
 the best, without being much worth having, after 
 all. — Besides, variety is charming." 
 
 " Girl, girl, don't snap the lad up so," cried 
 Mere Suzanne. " I never like to hear young 
 maids and men say rude things to one another." 
 
 " There now ! " said Fabien, elated at having 
 an ally, and sitting down before the fire exactly in 
 Victor's place and posture. " If I had known 
 you preferred apples, I would have brought 
 
The Good Old Times. 105 
 
 apples ; or if I had known you preferred pears, you 
 should have had pears, but I thought you liked 
 chestnuts, and so I brought them." 
 
 "The lad can't speak fairer than that," said 
 Mere Suzanne, twirling the wool off her distaff. 
 " Come, Colette, set on the supper, since we are 
 not to wait for Christophe. Marcelline ! what 
 art thou reading, child, by this bad light ? — a 
 montagnard ? " 
 
 " No," said Marcelline, rousing up ; " the tract 
 Bertrand gave me. It is very interesting." 
 
 " Ah, Bertrand has done for himself now," said 
 Fabien. " They've got him by the leg, and they 
 won't let him go in a hurry, it's my notion." 
 
 " Why not ? " said Marcelline ; "he has not 
 confessed anything." 
 
 " I did not know he had anything to confess," 
 said Colette. " You know, he could not have 
 broken the cross." 
 
 " Say you so, say you so?" repeated Fabien, in 
 a drawling, provoking kind of sing-song. " If he 
 didn't, he knows who did." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " I'm sure." 
 
 " Well, you are very oracular," said Colette 
 
106 The Good Old Times. 
 
 impatiently ; "if you know so much, you had 
 better take heed lest your turn to be arrested 
 come next." 
 
 " Ah, my father is more in danger than I. I 
 don't care for these things." 
 
 After this, conversation flagged a good deal ; 
 
 * CO o * 
 
 and Fabien, disappointed, wondered how it was 
 he could not make people merry and pleasant as 
 Victor could. He thought it was their fault, not 
 his, and that they were resolved to be dull and 
 hard to please, which made him feel resentful. 
 But still, he saw no reason why he should go till 
 Christophe returned, and therefore kept sitting, 
 sometimes telling a story with very little point, 
 sometimes trying to get up a flirtation with 
 Colette, and sometimes in dead silence, in spite 
 of two or three yawns very little concealed by his 
 provoking mistress. At length, Mere Suzanne, 
 hearing the cathedral clock strike an hour later 
 than she was accustomed to be awake, said, 
 " Truly, I think you had now best go home, my 
 good lad, and tell Christophe we are sitting up 
 for him." 
 
 Fabien, thus dismissed by the only person to 
 whom he had been much indebted for cordiality, 
 
The Good Old Times. 
 
 107 
 
 took up his cap and departed, after a fruitless 
 attempt to draw Colette out to the parapet to 
 admire the stars. She said she knew he did not 
 care for them ; and if he did, she did not; which 
 he was unable to controvert, and, therefore, he 
 took his way home without making any astrono- 
 mical observations. 
 
 Christophe returned very soon afterwards. He 
 looked eager and flushed, but made very brief 
 answers to the questions that were asked. He 
 said Gregoire had had several friends to sup with 
 him, good men, serious men, who had talked 
 very profitably ; but that he was too sleepy to 
 repeat what they had said, and did not know their 
 names. 
 
 The next morning Colette went to market, 
 leaving Michel in charge of Marcelline, who sat 
 lace-making at the door, while he lay in the sun 
 between sleeping and waking. On a stool beside 
 her lay the little tract Bertrand had given her, 
 opened in such a manner that she could read 
 a sentence and then reflect on it while pursuing 
 her work. She never, so to say, lost sight of 
 Michel ; she attended to him, her book, and her 
 lace-making; but these three absorbed her so 
 
108 The Good Old Times. 
 
 completely that she took no note of anything 
 else. 
 
 All at once a man's shadow fell across the 
 door, and a man's substance intervened between 
 her and the sun. 
 
 " What book is that?" said the man. 
 
 " A good book," said she, startled ; and he 
 stretched his arm across her, and took it up. 
 
 " A good book ; ay, ay, so I see," said he, 
 looking at the title; " can you tell me where I can 
 get one exactly like it ? " 
 
 " No, indeed I cannot." 
 
 " You bought it at the door, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No, I did not ; it was given me." 
 
 " By whom ? " 
 
 " By — really, I don't know who you are who 
 ask me these questions," cried Marcelline, with 
 spirit, " nor do I know why I need answer them. 
 Give it back to me ; it is mine, not yours ! " and 
 she took it from his hand. 
 
 " You did not buy it, then ? " 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 '•' Bah ! " 
 
 And the inquisitive stranger walked away. 
 
 When Christophe returned to dinner, he was 
 
The Good Old Times. 109 
 
 again behind time; and said he had been gleaning 
 the particulars of Bertrand's re-examination. It 
 had turned upon his business in Le Puy, and the 
 nature of his visits from house to house. An 
 attempt had been made to prove that he sold 
 forbidden books ; but he would not criminate 
 himself, nor could any one be found who would 
 own to having bought a book of him. He had 
 been remanded. 
 
 The little family now began to take keen in- 
 terest in the affairs of this man, and to make 
 common cause with him. Marcelline, with some 
 excitement, related her morning's adventure ; 
 and Christophe pronounced her fortunate to have 
 baffled her visitor, and escaped being carried 
 before the consuls. Mere Suzanne looked very 
 grave, and said, " Perhaps that may happen yet," 
 which made Marcelline feel very uncomfortable. 
 Christophe said, " Give me the book, aunt," and 
 sat down and read it straight through, instead of 
 returning to his work. Just as he reached the 
 last word, he was surprised by his grandmother 
 taking it from him with a pair of tongs, and 
 thrusting it into the fiercest part of the fire. 
 
I IO 
 
 The Good Old Times. 
 
 "Oh! what is that for?" cried Marcelline 
 hastily. 
 
 " That it may blaze instead of you," said Mere 
 Suzanne oracularly. " And now, my boy, return 
 to your work." 
 
Chapter IX. 
 
 The Tire-Lire. 
 
 /COLETTE had just heard Michel murmur the 
 inarticulate sounds which she fondly called 
 his prayers, and had resigned her charge to her 
 grandmother, who was particularly fond of tending 
 him, when Christophe entered and said, " Come, 
 let you and I run down to Gregoire's to supper — 
 they expect us, for I promised them." 
 
 Colette gladly complied, and they were soon 
 running down the steep streets together, and 
 mixing in the bustle of the lower town, which 
 was now quite dark, save where a flambeau flared 
 in front of a rich man's house, or an oil lamp 
 shone in the window of a poor one. 
 
 Those were days when rogues and robbers had 
 every advantage, and when street murders and 
 robberies were not a few. As Christophe and 
 Colette turned out of a precipitous street into 
 a dark alley, they heard a woman scream, and 
 
H2 The Good Old Times. 
 
 immediately afterwards a trembling figure, muffled 
 in a cloak, rushed towards Colette, and caught 
 her arm, pursued by two or three ruffians. Chris- 
 tophe gruffly cried out, " How now ! " and some 
 one coming just then, with a lantern, to the door 
 of the house they were passing, threw its light on 
 the pursuers, who, with a laugh and a muttered 
 oath, turned off. 
 
 The woman in the cloak said hurriedly to 
 Colette, " Let me keep near you. I am not 
 going far." 
 
 " Pray do," said Colette, who fancied some- 
 how that the stranger was of higher degree than 
 herself. They did not walk together, but the 
 new comer followed them close behind, and 
 Colette, looking round, saw that a lad had joined 
 her. 
 
 " Now, Colette," said Christophe to her, in an 
 under-tone, " you must not be surprised at any- 
 thing you see or hear to-night, nor must you tell 
 about it afterwards ; for we are upon honour." 
 
 " What can you mean ? " said she, with 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Hist ! " whispered he, " here we are." Then 
 turning to the female who had sought their 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 1 3 
 
 protection, " I am glad you have somebody to take 
 care of you," said he, ". for here we must part." 
 
 " No," said the stranger, in a soft and har- 
 monious voice, " I am going in too." 
 
 Christophe gave her a hasty glance from head 
 to foot. She was closely muffled, and her hood 
 hid her face ; but as she moved forward a little 
 more into the light, Colette caught the mo- 
 mentary flash of some precious stone in her ear, 
 crimson and brilliant as a ruby, which, indeed, it 
 was. She had probably forgotten to lay aside her 
 ear-rings in assuming her disguise. 
 
 Christophe said not a word, but pushed through 
 the narrow, close passage, and opened the door of 
 the kitchen occupied by Gregoire and his family. 
 The house, of which he rented the ground-floor, 
 was in a close and ill-ventilated part of the town, 
 and struck Colette as vastly inferior to her grand- 
 mother's airy habitation. This was only a passing 
 thought, for the next instant, to her great sur- 
 prise, she found herself in a room lighted by the 
 yellow flare of a couple of common oil-lamps, 
 and full of people kneeling on the stone floor, 
 while a man prayed. She started violently, but 
 at the same moment the glowing eyes of Victor 
 1 
 
H4 The Good Old Times. 
 
 Souvestre were raised from the hands which had 
 covered them, and he silently made room for her 
 to kneel beside him. She obeyed, with a heart 
 beating too quickly to enable her to take more 
 than an outward part in the service for some 
 minutes ; and when she recovered herself a little, 
 she stole stealthy glances around her to form some 
 idea of the company. The man who was praying 
 looked as if he had fared on water and water- 
 cresses all his life ; he was meagre and attenuated 
 to the last degree ; with dark, hollow eyes, a 
 parchment skin, and a voice that sank into the 
 heart. He was praying fervently for Bertrand's 
 release, and afterwards his petitions were for the 
 welfare of Christ's afflicted church upon earth. 
 Colette's furtive glances only rested on bent 
 heads and hidden faces ; but when she looked to 
 her left side, where she expected to find her 
 brother kneeling, she saw, not Christophe, but 
 the young woman in the cloak. The atmosphere 
 of the room was oppressive to any one fresh from 
 the keen outer air, and the stranger was silently 
 loosening her mantle. Colette whispered, " Are 
 you faint ? " "A little," she replied, in an 
 equally low whisper, " but I shall be better pre- 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 1 5 
 
 sently ; — take no notice." And, while answering, 
 she turned towards Colette one of the loveliest 
 faces imaginable, pear-shaped, delicately tinted 
 with the purest hues of the blush-rose and lily, 
 full of soul and mind, and with that indescribable 
 air of refinement which is seldom possessed ex- 
 cept by those who unite high descent with culti- 
 vated education. Colette, startled, looked again, 
 but the face was turned away, and the form 
 immovable. The conclusion of the prayer was 
 responded to by a general Amen, so hushed yet so 
 emphatic that it made the heart thrill. All arose, 
 and were quietly resuming their seats on benches 
 placed against the walls, when Gregoire hastily 
 exclaimed " Bertrand ! " and lo ! Bertrand him- 
 self stood among them. Instantly a dozen hands 
 were stretched to seize his, or laid on his shoulder : 
 it seemed such a direct answer to prayer, that 
 women wept, and men's hearts burned within 
 them. Colette and Christophe took no part in 
 the demonstration, nor did Victor. Though 
 interested in Bertrand, he was evidently far 
 better known, and of greater importance to many 
 others than to them. As the men closed round 
 him and hid him awhile from their view, Colette, 
 1 2 
 
1 1 6 The Good Old Times. 
 
 glancing round, caught Fabien exchanging a 
 stealthy look of irony with a man she knew by 
 sight, called Jacques Guitard. It did not im- 
 prove her opinion of Fabien ; for Jacques, though 
 a wealthy tradesman, had Mere Suzanne's bad 
 word whenever she named him, and had, once 
 on a time, been refused by Marcelline. 
 
 There seemed a general impression that prayer 
 should now be followed by thanksgiving. It was 
 brief but hearty. There was then an attempt on 
 the part of the leader to give out a hymn ; but 
 Gregoire interposed with, " Not safe — not safe," 
 — which was echoed by one or two others. The 
 preacher looked around, hardly inclined to yield, 
 and actually proceeded to read out one of Clement 
 Marot's hymns, and then to set the tune, which 
 was taken up by several full-toned voices; but 
 a shower of stones against the wooden shutter 
 caused the singers to stop ; and Victor, who had 
 stolen unobserved from the room, returned and 
 whispered a few words of warning to Gregoire, 
 who said, " My friends, we are watched, and may 
 be molested — it will be best for you to disperse 
 quietly through the door at the back of the 
 house." 
 
The Good Old Times. i 17 
 
 A little confusion arose on this announcement ; 
 some were for facing the danger, others for 
 awaiting it ; but as they clearly had no right to 
 compromise their host without his sanction, the 
 meeting broke up somewhat abruptly, and they 
 issued through the back-entrance in small groups ; 
 Colette, Christophe, and Victor among the last. 
 
 " Where is Bertrand ? " said Christophe, look- 
 ing round. " Does he not return with you ? " 
 
 " Hush," said Victor, " he remains behind to 
 talk matters over with Gregoire and the minister. 
 I am as well pleased it should be so, for the 
 streets are disturbed to-night, and you and I shall 
 not be too many to take care of your sister." 
 
 Saying which, he offered his arm to Colette, 
 who shvly took it, though her brother was close 
 to her on the other side. 
 
 " That girl in the cloak is still behind us," 
 whispered Christophe to her. 
 
 " All the better; it is a pleasure to feel she can 
 trust us," returned Colette, equally softly. " She 
 is quite a lady, I believe ; and oh, Christophe ! 
 she has such a pretty face ! " 
 
 " Has she ? " said he, looking over his shoulder, 
 somewhat eagerly. " But she keeps it muffled so, 
 
1 1 8 The Good Old Times. 
 
 I can't see it — nor anything but the shining of 
 a bit of red glass." 
 
 " Hush ! I think it is a real ruby." 
 
 " Fie! a real ruby indeed ! What should bring 
 a real lady to such a house as Gregoire's ? " 
 
 " The love of God," said Victor abruptly. 
 " For my part," in a whisper only audible to 
 Colette, " I want no prettier face than one closer 
 at hand." 
 
 This made Colette still more shy ; and she 
 would have stolen her hand from his arm, but he 
 kept it fast. 
 
 " I wish the moon would shine out a bit," 
 said Christophe. " Here I am walking clean into 
 the gutter." 
 
 " Then walk clean out of it, if you can ! " said 
 Victor, laughing. 
 
 " Ah, you're a clever fellow. I believe it will 
 be best to drop behind you, for we can't walk 
 three abreast." 
 
 " Much the best plan," said Victor. " 'Tis you 
 who are the clever fellow, to have thought of it. 
 — And here we come to plenty of light. — What 
 mischief is afoot now ? " 
 
 In turning into one of the main streets, which 
 
The Good Old Times. 119 
 
 they were obliged to cross, they found themselves 
 in the midst of noise, uproar, and a blaze of 
 torchlight. A mock shrine had been dressed up 
 with tapers round a black doll intended to per- 
 sonate the Lady of Le Puy, and some of the very 
 lowest of the populace, self-constituted its priests, 
 were bawling out a hymn that had much more 
 profanity than devotion in it ; at the same time 
 shaking a money-box they called a tire-lire, and 
 exacting contributions of small coin to it from all 
 passers. 
 
 " We had better turn back," said Victor 
 hastily, and drawing Colette closer to him as he 
 spoke ; but, at the same moment, she was rudely 
 seized by one of the money-takers, and pulled 
 forward by the wrist, to do homage and pay 
 tribute. 
 
 " Take that ! " cried Victor, indignantly striking 
 him in the face with his fist. Then, putting his 
 arm round Colette, he, by sheer strength and 
 presence of mind, got her through the angry mob, 
 and bore her, breathless and terrified, into an 
 alley across the street, in the comparative gloom 
 of which they soon found themselves in safety. 
 
 Christophe had been on the point of following 
 
i 20 The Good Old Times. 
 
 them, when a stifled cry made him turn round to 
 the rescue of the young person behind. Some 
 one had snatched at her ear-rings, her boy- 
 attendant had put up his slight arm, which would 
 have been struck down the next moment, but for 
 Christophe's interposing his own like a bar of 
 iron, and constituting himself the champion. 
 
 " Tribute to Our Lady ! " cried the tire-lire 
 bearer, rattling his box, and then offensively 
 pressing it on her. 
 
 " Alas, I have no money," said she hurriedly. 
 — " Claude, have you? " 
 
 " Not a sou, Mademoiselle," whispered the lad. 
 " What miserable ill-luck ! " 
 
 " Stay, I have some copper pieces," said Chris- 
 tophe, " though 'tis a rank imposition. — No ! my 
 pocket has been rifled ! " 
 
 " Heretics ! heretics ! " cried several unruly 
 voices ; and the cry was caught up by others. 
 
 " These will do," said a man, making a snatch 
 at an ear-ring. 
 
 She instinctively cried out as her ear was hurt 
 by the jewel being dragged from it ; and Chris- 
 tophe, exclaiming, " Rascal ! " roughly pushed 
 him back. 
 
The Good Old Times. i 2 1 
 
 *' Don't strike him," cried the lady hurriedly. 
 " Wait a moment, I have a ring." 
 
 " You may be traced by it, lady," whispered 
 Christophe, "which perhaps you might not like." 
 
 " Traced ! oh, no ! " and she quickly drew on 
 her glove. 
 
 " That white hand belongs to a lady \" cried her 
 persecutor. " Come ; your ring, your ring \" 
 
 " We may yet make a dash for it," whispered 
 Christophe. " Can you trust me ? " 
 
 " I can — I do ! " 
 
 "Now then" — and he was going to rush 
 through the crowd with her, when he was hustled, 
 collared, and kept back. Glowing with anger, he 
 threw one arm round his companion, and was 
 preparing to make a desperate assault with the 
 other, when the galloping of horses' feet along 
 the lava pavement was heard swiftly approaching, 
 followed by a cry among the people of " The 
 Bishop ! the Bishop ! " 
 
 The young lady now began to tremble so 
 violently that Christophe feared she would fall to 
 the earth. 
 
 " Do not let him see me," whispered she. 
 
 " He cannot," returned Christophe, " your 
 
122 The Good Old Times. 
 
 face is completely hidden." And he drew her 
 back a little, that she might lean against the wall 
 of a house. It was one of those old shops with 
 stone arched fronts in place of windows, still 
 to be seen in Le Puy ; especially in the Rue 
 Pannessac. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Bishop was riding up, with his 
 train; and as the yellow torchlight fell full on him, 
 they saw him distinctly, themselves unseen. 
 
 He was in the very prime and flower of life, 
 with a face like an angel's : that is, full of 
 intellect and sweetness, save when occasionally 
 marred by the prevalence of haughty and in- 
 tolerant feeling. His deep, azure-blue eye shone 
 under a brow white as marble, and fit for a 
 Grecian sculptor to have moulded : he had a 
 straight nose, beautifully cut mouth and chin, 
 and a complexion, say the old chroniclers, like 
 lilies and roses. 
 
 This ecclesiastical Adonis, for such he is really 
 portrayed in history, bestrode a richly-caparisoned 
 mule, which he guided moue like a warrior than 
 a priest ; and he gaily chatted with a martial- 
 looking young horseman at his side, who was as 
 brown as he himself was blonde. The attendants 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 2 3 
 
 of both, mingled together, with plumes, gold 
 fringes, and jingling spurs, brought up the rear of 
 the procession, which, with the rabble rout already 
 assembled, nearly choked up the steep old street, 
 and made up as pretty and characteristic a moving 
 picture as a lover of the mediaeval school would 
 desire to see. 
 
 " What mummery is this?" said the Bishop, 
 surveying the mock shrine with a frown. " I 
 exceedingly dislike these profanities, and shall in- 
 quire into their originators, with a view to putting 
 them down." 
 
 This was said to his noble companion, but in 
 a loud, authoritative, and displeased voice that 
 was meant for all. Instantly a hush succeeded : 
 one of the money-box bearers, who had had the 
 effrontery to intend suing the Bishop for a con- 
 tribution, slunk out of sight ; and as soon 
 as the train had passed, the crowd began to 
 fall off. 
 
 " Now then is our time," said Christophe to his 
 companion, before the street had much cleared ; 
 and he safely conducted her across it into one 
 which was comparatively quiet. 
 
 " Brave young man, how shall I thank you ? " 
 
124 The Good Old Times. 
 
 said she gratefully ; " you have extricated me 
 from a situation of the utmost peril, incurred by 
 my own imprudence. Will you accept this ring, 
 of which I was so nearly robbed ? " 
 
 " My service requires no reward," replied 
 Christophe, gently putting it back. " Shall I not 
 see you home ? The streets are not yet safe." 
 
 " I have hardly any fears now — and I do not 
 wish, as you may suppose, to be traced. And 
 yet, — I owe to you so much already, why should 
 I not trust you altogether ? " 
 
 " You may''' 
 
 " Perhaps, some day I may have it in my 
 power to be serviceable to you or your — was she 
 your wife or sister ? " 
 
 " My sister." 
 
 " What is she ? " 
 
 " A lace-maker." 
 
 " Ah ! — And can she be trusted ? " 
 
 " I am certain of it." 
 
 " Tell me her name and address." 
 
 He gave both. 
 
 " Thanks. — Just see me across the square, and 
 I will bid you farewell." 
 
 He did so, in surprise and in silence. The 
 
The Good Old Times, 125 
 
 moon was now shining over their heads, and, as 
 she turned to bid him good night, he saw her face 
 distinctly. She saw that he did. 
 
 " You will know me again," said she, with 
 rather an unsteady voice. " Well, — at all events, 
 you will not betray me." 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Thank you, — from my heart ! Farewell ! " 
 
 And she was gone the next moment, followed 
 by her page. He had a great mind, a very great 
 mind, to follow her ; but, after a moment's 
 thought, a greater mind to do no such thing ; 
 and, turning about, he hastily made his way 
 homewards, thinking over all that had happened. 
 
Chapter X. 
 
 Brother and Sister. 
 
 1VTE AN WHILE, Magdeleine de St. Nectaire, 
 for such was her name, pursued her way 
 without molestation, till her page, stepping before 
 her, unlocked a small postern which admitted her 
 into a cloister adjoining the offices behind the 
 Bishop's palace ; which it connected with a 
 separate but contiguous mansion. There were 
 strong smells of roast meat and charcoal fires, 
 together with the murmur of many distant voices ; 
 but the private passage through which they pur- 
 sued their way, had no access but such as the 
 boy had already secured ; and Magdeleine safely 
 ascended a narrow stair, and opened a small door 
 covered with the tapestry which hung the walls of 
 her sleeping-chamber. 
 
 It was a very lofty old room, with one or two 
 deep recesses, and an elaborately-carved oaken 
 chimney-piece reaching to the ceiling ; in the 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 27 
 
 centre of which, a Holy Family was painted in 
 the mediaeval style on the panel. A wood fire 
 smouldered on the hearth ; beside it stood an 
 exceedingly heavy carved chair, which owed 
 whatever ease was to be found in it to the soft 
 down cushions. A bed with towering canopy 
 festooned with dark-green stamped velvet, with 
 linings of pale rose-colour silk, occupied the most 
 prominent place, and, with its snowy coverlet and 
 lace-trimmed pillows, looked fit for the repose 
 of a sleeping beauty. The toilette and mirror, 
 draped with delicate lace, stood on a little dais 
 of two steps which filled the deep recess of the 
 projecting window; and a lighted lamp hung from 
 the centre of the ceiling over a small table covered 
 with crimson, on which were various books, and 
 a casket inlaid with brass. 
 
 Magdeleine seated herself, panting, in the arm- 
 chair beside the fire ; and having recovered her 
 breath, she took off and put away her heavy cloak 
 and the coarse stuff dress beneath it; then putting 
 on a flowing white wrapper, she unlocked her 
 bedroom-door and looked into the ante-chamber. 
 She was satisfied on seeing an old woman slum- 
 bering beside the fire ; for she had allowed her 
 
128 The Good Old Times. 
 
 two principal female attendants to go to the 
 wedding-supper of a fellow-servant, and she felt 
 assured that the old nurse, who believed her to 
 have gone to bed early with a headache, had had 
 nothing to awaken her suspicions. Therefore she 
 locked herself in again, made up the fire, and 
 was preparing to brood over it and collect her 
 scattered thoughts, when a tap at the secret door 
 made her start like a guilty thing. 
 
 It was Claude the page, with wine and cakes 
 on a small salver. 
 
 " I thought Mademoiselle must need some 
 refreshment," said he, in a hushed tone, looking 
 up at her with respect and affection. 
 
 " Thank you, thank you," said she, taking the 
 salver from him ; " 1 had not thought of it, but it 
 will be very acceptable. And now get your own 
 supper and go to bed as fast as you can. I know 
 I can trust you." 
 
 " Yes, Mademoiselle ; but what an awful risk 
 you ran to-night ! " 
 
 " I must be more cautious in future. Have 
 Melanie and Victoire returned yet ? " 
 
 " No, Mademoiselle ; but his Grace sent for 
 me to inquire for you, and I said you had retired 
 
The Good Old Times. 129 
 
 for the night. That was better than saying you 
 had gone to bed early with a bad headache, was 
 it not?" 
 
 " Truth is always better than falsehood or sub- 
 terfuge. How surprised Melanie would have been 
 to see her uncle to-night ! " 
 
 " She would indeed, Mademoiselle ! I think 
 she would sooner have been with us than at 
 Lolotte's wedding. The Seigneur Guy is supping 
 with his Grace, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " That is no concern of mine, Claude — good 
 night." 
 
 When she had dropped the tapestry and resumed 
 her seat by the fire, she sat a long time in profound 
 meditation ; then arose, took a small key from 
 her bosom, unlocked a casket, drew from it a 
 small thick brazen-clasped volume, and read in it 
 attentively for about an hour. After another 
 ruminating fit, she replaced the book, knelt at 
 the prie-dieu beside her bed, prayed fervently, 
 passionately, imploringly, and then went to 
 bed. 
 
 Towards noon the following day, Claude in- 
 formed his lady that the Bishop desired to see her. 
 She arose from her embroidery, and met him half 
 
 K 
 
130 The Good Old Times. 
 
 way down the saloon in which she had been 
 passing the morning. 
 
 Two nobler, more graceful, more dignified young 
 persons could scarcely have been found in France 
 than the brother and sister who then greeted one 
 another. He was richly but simply dressed ; she 
 wore the modest, becoming attire in which Cathe- 
 rine de Medicis is represented, as a young and 
 blooming woman, in the Memoires de Conde. 
 Her dress, which would have been too close- 
 fitting and long-waisted for any less perfect shape, 
 was of violet satin, and closed from the throat to 
 the stomacher-point by ten or twelve small 
 agraffes of amethyst and pearl. The sleeves were 
 finished at the wrist by small lace ruffles ; the 
 skirt was long and ample ; the throat enclosed by 
 a small lace ruff, or rather frill ; the glossy, 
 luxuriant, pale brown hair, woven into innume- 
 rable small braids, and intermingled with strings 
 of pearls, was surmounted, but scarcely covered, 
 by what is now known as a Mary Stuart cap; and 
 from it descended a long and full veil of the most 
 transparent fabric, over a velvet mantle a shade 
 darker than the dress, which had wide sleeves and 
 hung loose from the shoulders. 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 3 1 
 
 " I regret, my sister," said the Bishop, as soon 
 as they were seated, " that you were so seriously 
 indisposed last night." 
 
 " Do not name it," said she, slightly blushing, 
 " it was nothing. I am now quite well." 
 
 He looked at her with a little anxiety, for he 
 loved her very dearly ; but, as there was nothing 
 in her appearance to contradict what she said of 
 herself, he accepted it for the truth. 
 
 " Your health was not forgotten among us," 
 said he. "A dozen young chevaliers drank to it 
 with enthusiasm; nor did I refuse to pledge them, 
 though, as you know, I touch not wine save to 
 grace my guests." 
 
 "You kept it up late, my brother. Even in 
 this my distant quarter, I heard the sound of 
 festivity." 
 
 " Too late to please me, indeed, Magdeleine. 
 I was glad at length to have it in my power to say 
 I must attend a midnight mass." 
 
 " Late at feast and late at prayers, too ! " said 
 Magdeleine, smiling. " I was better off, sleeping 
 in my nest." 
 
 " And yet, had it not been for your indispo- 
 sition, I should have prayed you to attend the 
 k 2 
 
I 3 2 The Good Old Times. 
 
 mass ; for there is need, just now, for demonstra- 
 tive piety, as well as for much humiliation and 
 expiation." 
 
 " Do you mean on account of the broken 
 crucifix ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; even were it not a sign of the 
 spirit of the times." 
 
 " What do you call the spirit of the times, 
 brother ? " 
 
 " Can you ask ? Heresy : anarchy." 
 " What if it should only be a movement which, 
 like a summer storm, shall disperse what is 
 noxious and leave us a clearer, purer atmo- 
 sphere ? " 
 
 " Ah, my dear Magdeleine, this is only one of 
 the pernicious notions you imbibed from your 
 Valdensian nurse." 
 
 " Nay, my brother, I cannot bear to hear you 
 speak of her so harshly. She had the love of 
 Christ in her, and was unto me as a mother." 
 
 " Her fidelity and tenderness I have never dis- 
 puted. The poor woman had a zeal, but not 
 according to knowledge." 
 
 " Why, she had the whole New Testament by 
 heart ! " 
 
The Good Old Times. 133 
 
 " A great proof of her memory, but not of her 
 understanding. You might have the whole of 
 Aristotle by heart, and yet not understand 
 him." 
 
 " Do you ? " said she playfully. 
 
 " I forgot I was speaking to a learned lady," 
 said the Bishop, immediately adopting a lighter 
 tone, "/understand him? Not I, my dear 
 Magdeleine, I promise you ; I doubt if he always 
 understood himself. What have you in hand 
 here ? Some votive offering for our Lady ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " The motto is pretty, at any rate— if not very 
 new — ' yia crucis, via lucis.' Yes, that is the 
 good old path." 
 
 "The path of light, you see, brother. They 
 who bear the cross must not be blindfolded." 
 
 " They have the inner light, my sister, to guide 
 them." 
 
 "Ah, I wish I had an inner light," said Magde- 
 leine wistfully : " one that would always shine on 
 my path." 
 
 "They that bear the cross have the light," said 
 the Bishop. " Only those who hate the light 
 walk in darkness." 
 
134 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " How true ! Yet how differently we under- 
 stand it ! " 
 
 " Because you choose to bewilder that little 
 head of yours with matters no woman can or need 
 understand. Have you confessed lately ? " 
 
 " I never confess to you," she answered quickly. 
 " Certainly not ; but Pere Jerome tells me you 
 have not confessed for some time." 
 
 " I wish Pere Jerome would confess his own 
 sins instead of mine ! " cried Magdeleine hotly. 
 
 Her brother smiled, and said, " The priest must 
 have no reserves from his bishop." 
 
 " A very good reason for my not being fond of 
 confessing my sins to a priest ! Ah, brother ! 
 how much better to confess them to God ! " 
 " We may do that too." 
 " But why the other? " 
 
 " You who profess such a fondness for Scripture 
 should remember the text, ' Confess your sins one 
 to another.' " 
 
 " But Pere Jerome does not confess his sins to 
 me ! There is nothing mutual in our confession. 
 I think that text simply directs me, for instance, 
 if I have injured or offended you, ingenuously to 
 admit it and express contrition for it." 
 
The Good Old Times. 135 
 
 " ' You think,' " repeated the Bishop, with quiet 
 irony. " Well, Magdeleine, instead of injuring 
 me, there is something you may do which will 
 please me very much, and I hope you will do it." 
 
 " What is it, dear brother? " 
 
 " I have agreed with the Chapter to have a 
 solemn and public expiatory procession, with all 
 the pomp imaginable, and I expect you to take 
 a prominent part in it." 
 
 " Ah ! — " said she, with a look and tone of 
 extreme aversion. 
 
 "What do you mean?" said the Bishop, with 
 darkening brow. " Do you refuse compliance?" 
 
 " It will be so very offensive to me." 
 
 " Magdeleine ! It is you whose words and 
 sentiments are offensive in the eye of God ! What 
 am I to think ? I do not desire to think amiss. 
 As your affectionate brother, I entreat you to 
 comply." 
 
 " In anything but this ! " 
 
 "As your spiritual superior, I command you !" 
 
 She coloured crimson, and a rebellious, defiant 
 look for a moment animated every feature. She 
 breathed quickly, without speaking. The Bishop's 
 eye remained fastened on her. 
 
136 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " This cannot go on," said she, at last, pressing 
 both her hands upon her heart. " If you know 
 all I confessed to Pere Jerome, you know all I 
 think and feel." 
 
 " / know all! — and I say, that if you ever again 
 steal from home, under cover of the night, with 
 a mere child for your companion, to hold private 
 meetings with men who have no character to 
 lose, your name will be blasted for ever ! " 
 
 She started from head to foot, and her head 
 seemed to spin round, for he knew or appeared to 
 know much more than she had supposed. A 
 shower of black specks seemed falling before her 
 eyes, and she was on the verge of fainting. 
 
 " Yes," said he, in a melting, penetrating voice, 
 as he marked the carnation hue of her cheek 
 subside into the lily, — and, as he spoke, he rested 
 his arm on the back of her chair, checking the 
 brotherly impulse to support and caress her, — 
 " Yes, I know all ; and it is to no good to say 
 that the meeting was held at the house of your 
 imbecile old nurse, — for it was indecorous in the 
 extreme, and involved, or might have involved, 
 my name in the disgrace of your own." 
 
 Then, he did not know all ! — did not know of 
 
The Good Old Times. i 37 
 
 the imprudence of last night ! That visit to the 
 nurse's had been an old offence, that had sunk 
 into comparative insignificance. She re-collected 
 her senses. 
 
 " Let us say no mofe of this, now," said he 
 soothingly. " Indeed, you are incapable of reply- 
 ing to me at this moment, and the shock should 
 not have been so sudden had I known it would be 
 so grievously felt. Magdeleine ! we love each 
 other ! — have loved one another from childhood. 
 Do not, by reckless, perverse imprudence, part us 
 asunder." 
 
 Her spirits were shaken, and she covered her 
 face with her hands and wept. 
 
 " T shall leave you now," said he tenderly ; 
 "for I have much to do and to think of ; but 
 there is one whom I had for the time forgotten, 
 who is anxious to see you on his return from 
 Paris. Will you admit Guy de Miremont ? " 
 
 A rosy-red blush coloured her lately pale 
 cheeks : she hesitated. 
 
 " No — yes — no." 
 
 " Second thoughts are best," said the Bishop 
 gaily, " so I shall take no heed of the first and 
 the third." 
 
138 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " No indeed, brother, I think I would sooner 
 not see him." 
 
 " I shall send him, though," said the Bishop 
 rather mischievously, " and he will have the 
 amusing and unexampled sight of Magdeleine de 
 St. Nectaire in a flurry." 
 
 " That he certainly will not," said she, drawing 
 herself up, and regaining her self-possession at 
 once ; and the Bishop, smiling, withdrew. 
 
Chapter XI. 
 
 News from Paris. 
 
 T^ROM the moment Guy de Miremont had 
 been named, Magdeleine had experienced a 
 revulsion of feeling, which had much less to do 
 with heaven than earth. It flashed upon her all 
 at once, how her stolen visits to the Lutheran 
 meetings would appear in the eyes of the world, 
 and she felt an exceedingly strong repugnance to 
 their coming to the knowledge of her lover. 
 
 For such the young Seigneur de Miremont 
 avowedly was ; and she loved him in return with 
 all the strength of her affectionate heart. He 
 was, truth to say, a cavalier that might have won 
 many a woman's favour. Besides being hand- 
 some, graceful, and chivalrous, he was gifted with 
 a good humour and cheerfulness which made it 
 next to impossible not to like him far better than 
 many a cleverer and more learned man. His 
 laugh was gaiety itself ; whatever he did, he did 
 
140 The Good Old Times. 
 
 ardently, and he was neither conceited nor pre- 
 suming. Though left his own master as soon as 
 he reached man's estate, he had never been dissi- 
 pated ; his love for Magdeleine was as fresh and 
 pure as it was hearty ; and, at the present time, 
 he was counted, and counted himself, a thorough, 
 good catholic. 
 
 Of course this hero had some faults, though 
 they were not very prominent. He could be a 
 little hot, and he could occasionally change his 
 purpose from one extreme to another, on what 
 better logicians than himself thought insufficient 
 grounds. He was always entirely convinced all 
 was right when he did so, for nothing could have 
 made him act insincerely for the sake of any 
 expediency whatever. 
 
 Such was, in brief, the young noble who now 
 entered Magdeleine's reception chamber and 
 greeted her with a mixture of the old chivalresque 
 homage and youthful ardour. She herself, if she 
 could have helped blushing, would not have 
 betrayed the slightest lack of self-possession. 
 
 " You are welcome, Seigneur Guy," said she ; 
 " I trust you have had a safe and pleasant journey 
 from Paris ? " 
 
The Good Old Times. 141 
 
 " Safe enough, since I am here, alive and 
 well," returned he lightly ; " otherwise, the 
 perils were many." 
 
 " Of what nature ? " 
 
 " Oh, the routiers were out in every quarter. 
 The malcontents who are protected by Des Adrets 
 are the terror of the land, burning, sacking;, 
 plundering, and slaying." 
 
 " Is there any truth in the report, think you, 
 that the Terrible Baron intends to attack Le Puy?" 
 
 " He would like to do so very well, I have no 
 doubt ; but the attempt would be rather too 
 hazardous. You are strong enough to defend 
 your own treasures, enormous as they are : be- 
 sides, you have powerful neighbours and allies — 
 Polignac, St. Vidal." 
 
 " Oh, they are too slothful and selfish ! " 
 
 " They would not be, in case of real need — if 
 you were in the city ! Ah, Magdeleine, every 
 knight in France would make a crusade of it, if 
 you were in danger ! " 
 
 " If our Lady of Le Puy were in danger, 
 perhaps some of them would," replied Magdeleine. 
 " They would sooner fight for a worm-eaten 
 image than a living woman." 
 
142 The Good Old Times, 
 
 Guy was checked for a moment by what struck 
 him unpleasantly as a little profane in this speech. 
 
 " Our Lady first, of course," said he after a 
 short pause, "and 'the ladies' next. Place a 
 notre Dame et auoc dames. Talking of ladies, 
 some of the court-ladies have been getting into 
 an awkward predicament lately." 
 
 " How so?" 
 
 " Why, I need not tell you that the new 
 opinions — " 
 
 " The reformed opinions." 
 
 " — Are spreading with alarming rapidity, and 
 even making their way among some of the upper 
 ranks. Their promulgators are chiefly ministers 
 from that hot-bed of heresy, Geneva, few in 
 number, but distributing themselves over a large 
 circuit ; here to-day and gone to-morrow, so that it 
 is next to impossible to catch them ; for they are 
 harboured and secreted among their proselytes with 
 the most infatuated regardlessness of danger." 
 
 " Noble regardlessness, Seigneur Guy!" 
 
 " They have even had the audacity to establish 
 a meeting-house under the very nose of the Sor- 
 bonne, where they have assembled to devour a 
 pig, in mockery of the paschal lamb." 
 
The Good Old Times. 143 
 
 " How can you believe such calumnies ? " 
 
 " At all events, they were disturbed in the act 
 of eating something — there were long tables 
 covered with white cloths ; and salvers and 
 chalices." 
 
 " Questionless, they were celebrating the 
 supper of our Lord." 
 
 "Ah, Magdeleine, you have a kind construction 
 to put upon everything ! " (Quite a fallacy, by 
 the way, of Seigneur Guy's.) " But these people, 
 I am afraid, were not so innocent as you, in your 
 charity, think. Otherwise, why, instead of sub- 
 mitting to lawful authority, should they have 
 barricaded themselves and made stout resistance ? 
 However, they were taken into custody, after 
 some bloodshed ; and among them, shame to 
 relate ! were found three or four ladies of the 
 court ! Figure to yourself the noble Azelais de 
 St. Brice, the modest Clothilde De Launay in 
 such a humiliating position ! " 
 
 " A dangerous position, but I do not know that 
 I can call it a humiliating one." 
 
 " You do not ? — You do not take in the whole 
 situation : Conceive the plebeian rank of their 
 companions, the scanty proportion of their own 
 
1 44 *£he Good Old Times, 
 
 sex, the questionable purpose of their assembling, 
 the publicity of their discovery, the dismay of 
 their fathers and brothers, the horror and disgust 
 of their lovers, the humiliating constructions of 
 the court '. " 
 
 "Well, Seigneur Guy, all this was very terrible 
 to a woman's nature ; but may not such scenes 
 have occurred among the early Christians ? Nay, 
 we know it was so in the apostolic times. The 
 Romans put the most terrible constructions on 
 their meetings." 
 
 " You have ever been an admirer, I know, of 
 la perle des princesses," said Guy, smiling, "'La 
 Marguerite des Marguerites.' " 
 
 " Certainly I have always thought her a noble- 
 hearted woman, rather timid and temporizing, 
 perhaps, as she grew old." 
 
 " She had the reformed preachers to expound 
 to her in her own private chamber, if I mistake 
 not," said Seigneur Guy, " and was caught in the 
 fact by the good King Henry, who gave her a box 
 on the ear and said — ' Madam, you seek to be 
 wise over-much.' " 
 
 "Very rude of him," said Magdeleine. 
 
 Guy laughed, and said, " We forgive a pretty 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 45 
 
 woman everything. King Francis forgave her, 
 and screened her too." 
 
 " Well he might ! He owed his liberation 
 from captivity to her exertions." 
 
 " She was a devoted sister. And he was no 
 bad brother. Your brother, fair Magdeleine, 
 would pipbably have depended, in like manner, on 
 your devotion to him, had he been in like case." 
 
 " Well he might ! There is nothing I would 
 not do for him ! " 
 
 And she clasped her hands, and her eyes 
 kindled as she spoke. 
 
 " Nothing ? Well, I am glad to hear it," said 
 Seigneur Guy, " for, sooth to say, there is a little 
 thing he desired me to request you to do, which 
 I do not see how you could well refuse." 
 
 " What is it ?" said Magdeleine, brought down 
 from her altitudes suddenly, and instinctively 
 guessing what it was. 
 
 " Merely to take part in the expiatory proces- 
 sion to-morrow, which, of course, you would 
 desire to do whether the Bishop made a point of 
 it or not. Ah ! what is it I see ? " cried he, 
 interrupting himself with a look and tone of 
 terror ; " your ear is frightfully mangled ! " 
 
 L 
 
1 46 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " My ear ?— Oh no ! " 
 
 " It bleeds ! " 
 
 She put her handkerchief to it. 
 
 " Ah, I remember. It was hurt when the ear- 
 ring was'removed." 
 
 " One of the ear-rings I thought myself so 
 favoured by your accepting of me before I went 
 to Paris ? Oh, what a wretch am I to have been 
 instrumental in causing that precious ear to 
 bleed ! " 
 
 " Pray do not take it to heart — it was no fault 
 of yours." 
 
 " It must have been ! They must have been 
 badly made ; and I, scoundrel ! overlooked it ! " 
 
 " Indeed they were made extremely well." 
 
 " I cannot be convinced of it. Do let me see 
 them. Permit me to summon your woman." 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself, Monseigneur ; the 
 ear is a very insensible member, and the pain is, 
 I assure you, inconsiderable." 
 
 " Oh, but the wound is so frightful ! I can 
 know no peace. The loss of blood must make 
 you faint. That detestable ear-ring ! " 
 
 " It is of no consequence." 
 
 " Of no consequence? — The ear-ring / gave 
 
The Good Old Times, 147 
 
 you ! — Master Claude," cried Guy, addressing the 
 page who entered at this moment, " will you 
 oblige me by requesting Mademoiselle Magde- 
 leine's principal woman instantly to bring me the 
 ruby ear-rings I was so unlucky as to give her 
 before I went to Paris ? " 
 
 Claude bowed with the most stolid look ima- 
 ginable, while Magdeleine coloured violently. 
 
 "What nonsense!" cried she hastily; "the 
 fact is, the ear-ring wanted altering, and I sent it 
 to be repaired." 
 
 " Ah ! — but that should have been my care. 
 It is a duty, a privilege — I must make it such. — 
 What jeweller ? " 
 
 " I shall not tell you," replied she, becoming 
 excessively annoyed, both with him and herself. 
 
 " Still here ? " cried Seigneur Guy to the 
 lingering page, who reluctantly departed ; mutter- 
 ing to himself, " I sha'n't go, though — 't will be 
 no use." 
 
 Just then, Melanie, the first waiting- woman, 
 entered through another door. 
 
 " Permit me to request you, Mademoiselle 
 Melanie," said Seigneur Guy, the moment he 
 saw her, " to fetch me your lady's remaining 
 l 2 
 
1 48 The Good Old Times. 
 
 ear-ring — the ruby ear ring which is not 
 broken." 
 
 " Broken, my lord ! " said Melanie, with sur- 
 prise ; " my lady wore them yesterday — has worn 
 them daily — they are on the toilette now ! " And 
 she hastily retired. 
 
 Guy looked quickly at Magdeleine, whose face 
 betrayed extreme embarrassment. They were 
 both silent. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my lord," said Melanie, 
 returning from the adjoining room with a small 
 box in her hand ; " I see here is only one." 
 
 " I told you as much," said Magdeleine quickly 
 to Guy. He took the box from the maid's hand, 
 and was turning with an apologetic look to Mag- 
 deleine, when a man-servant entered, carrying a 
 small dirty object on a richly-chased waiter. 
 
 " A young boy, Mademoiselle," said he, " has 
 found this, trampled in the mud, in the Rue 
 Pannessac, and, having recognised it for the jewel 
 he has seen you wear in the cathedral, has brought 
 it, hoping for a small reward." 
 
 " Let me see ! " eagerly cried Guy, who, it may 
 be observed, had attitudinized and studied the 
 graces a little at the beginning of the interview ; 
 
The Good Old Times. 149 
 
 but who, since the blowing up of this storm in a 
 saucer, had become exceedingly impassioned, and 
 gesticulated like a veritable Frenchman. 
 
 " Ah, what filth ! " cried he, drawing back his 
 hands in horror from the unlucky article, and 
 then stooping forward to survey it minutely — 
 " Faugh I" — holding his nose and starting back — 
 " remove it, my good fellow, or the abominable 
 effluvium will infallibly cause your lady to faint ; 
 the whole apartment is tainted with it already. 
 Go wash it six, twelve times, in different waters 
 — rose-waters, — perfume it with musk and am- 
 bergris — lay it in scented cotton, — and then, if it 
 does not knock you down, bring it hither ; but it 
 will never avail for your lady's use again till re- 
 set. — Stay — a guerdon, you said — give the urchin 
 this coin." 
 
 And he gave a gold piece to the man, who 
 retired with a broad smile on his face. 
 
 The moment he was gone, Guy folded his 
 arms, and throwing a tremendous expression into 
 his eye, scrutinized his unfortunate lady-love, 
 who was ravelling a piece of gold-thread very 
 industriously. 
 
 " The Rue Pannessac ! " repeated he in a low, 
 
1 50 The Good Old Times. 
 
 hissing voice, speaking between his teeth — " Last 
 night ! — What ! when the Rue Pannessac was 
 the scene of that bacchanalian orgie ! Magde- 
 leine ! — Speak ! — what am I to think ? " 
 
 " Think what you like, Guy," said she, burst- 
 ing into tears, " for you torment me to death ! 
 Think anything you please, however unworthy, 
 of me ! " 
 
 " Unworthy ! Think unworthily of you, Mag- 
 deleine? Sooner perish sun, moon, stars, and 
 light ! Your tears scald my heart ! You have 
 called me Guy for the first time." 
 
 '* I would not, I can tell you, if I had had time 
 to think about it." 
 
 " Don't recall it! Your woman said you had 
 worn my ear-rings daily ! — those ear-rings you 
 would hardly accept, or own to be pretty, and 
 affected to be so indifferent about ! Precious, 
 adorable Magdeleine ! " 
 
 Doubtless, Guy would here have gone down 
 upon his knees, but for the entrance of the 
 Bishop, which recalled him to common sense 
 directly. The Bishop looked troubled and pre- 
 occupied ; and was about to speak with serious- 
 ness, when, seeing his sister in tears and Guy 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 5 1 
 
 with flashing eyes and burning cheeks, he stopped 
 short, and said — 
 
 " What ! A lover's quarrel ? " 
 
 Now, Guy had so truly the spirit of a lover in 
 him, that he would rather have been trampled to 
 death than have involved the mistress of his 
 affections in any embarrassment. He, therefore, 
 cleared his brow directly, and said — 
 
 " Nothing whatever of the sort, my lord. 
 The lady Magdeleine and I merely got upon too 
 interesting a subject, and, her nature being so 
 angelically sensitive, she was overcome more than 
 I expected, and — and — " 
 
 " I am glad to hear it is nothing worse," said 
 the Bishop, smiling and taking her hand. " I 
 believe I can pretty well guess the nature of the 
 interesting subject, and I am glad an eclair cisse- 
 ment has taken place at last. You were sure 
 enough of my consent beforehand. And now, 
 to revert to a less interesting subject to both of 
 you, Magdeleine takes part in the procession, of 
 course ? " 
 
 " Of course," said Guy for her, seeing her 
 quite unable to answer for herself. For Magde- 
 leine was actually petrified, and covered with 
 
152 The Good Old Times. 
 
 confusion at her brother's having taken for granted 
 something so utterly opposite to what had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 " All is well, then/' said the Bishop, smiling 
 affectionately on her ; " and now, my dear Guy, 
 if you can tear yourself away from Magdeleine 
 for a few minutes, I shall be glad of your 
 company." 
 
 " Certainly," said Guy, hastily raising Magde- 
 leine's hand to his lips, and then accompanying 
 him out of the chamber. Scarcely was the door 
 closed, however, when he muttered, " Oh ! my 
 glove — " and leaving the Bishop to descend the 
 stairs by himself, he was at Magdeleine's side the 
 next instant. She raised her burning face from 
 her hands, but did not look up. 
 
 " Magdeleine ! the eclaircissement has taken 
 place ! — he is glad of it ! " whispered Guy ; and, 
 unable to resist kissing the soft cheek his lips had 
 approached so nearly, he did not wait to be 
 chidden for it, but, the next instant, was hasten- 
 ing towards the Bishop's study. 
 
Chapter XII. 
 
 The Incognita discovered. 
 
 rriHE expiatory procession took place with all 
 the pomp and circumstance imaginable. 
 Magdeleine de St. Nectaire took part in it ; 
 Colette was among the congregation ; for, in spite 
 of much conversation with Victor and Chris- 
 tophe in the interim, and an increasing disposition 
 to adopt the reformed opinions as far as she 
 could understand them, early habit and some 
 degree of timidity prevented her from openly 
 forsaking the established religion of the country. 
 So she stood or knelt as others did ; and having 
 entered the cathedral with the lower orders, who 
 closed the procession, she of course did not see 
 those who with all the externals of rank and 
 wealth took the lead in it. The service had com- 
 menced, when, through the long vista of figures, 
 she saw Magdeleine standing near one of the 
 
154 The Good Old Times. 
 
 pillars in a long, transparent veil of black gauze, 
 and knew her again. 
 
 " Christophe ! " cried she eagerly, the next 
 time she saw her brother, " I have discovered 
 who is the beautiful lady who attended the meet- 
 ing on Wednesday night. She is the Bishop's 
 sister ! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Christophe. 
 
 " She is, I am certain; I saw her quite plainly, 
 though we were so far apart." 
 
 " The Bishop's sister ! " repeated Christophe, 
 with scornful incredulity. "A likely thing, that she, 
 the beauty of Le Puy and flower of all Languedoc, 
 whose colours are worn at court tournaments by 
 fifty young gallants, would demean herself by 
 coming to such a place as Gregoire's kitchen ! " 
 
 " Remember what Victor said : ' The love of 
 Christ constrained her.' " 
 
 " But she is a staunch Catholic : the Bishop is 
 one of the pillars of the Church, and she is his 
 only sister ! " 
 
 " Brothers and sisters don't always think alike, 
 do they, Christophe ? " said Colette, laughing. 
 
 " Ah well, I am certain you are mistaken. You 
 might easily be so at such a distance." 
 
The Good Old Times. 155 
 
 " Satisfy yourself, then, Christophe, by looking 
 out for her the next time she rides out." 
 
 " I'm too busy a man to dangle about the 
 Bishop's gate, waiting a lady's pleasure." 
 
 " You would know her again, I suppose? " 
 
 " I fancy so," said Christophe, swallowing a 
 sigh, as he walked off. In fact, the poor young 
 fellow had dwelt rather too much on his memory 
 of this heroine of an hour, who was about as far 
 out of his reach as the Fairy Queen was beyond 
 the reach of Prince Arthur. She had, for the 
 time, completely put him out of conceit with his 
 old flame, Gabrielle, who appeared as vulgar and 
 ordinary, in comparison, as the real Dulcinea del 
 Toboso compared with the Dulcinea of Don 
 Quixote's imagination. And her influence, as 
 far as it extended, had certainly inclined him to 
 listen with more interest to the opinions of Victor 
 concerning the religious party which she appeared 
 to espouse at such peril to herself. 
 
 Therefore, in spite of the apparent indifference 
 with which Christophe had declared himself too 
 busy a man to look after her, he felt impelled to 
 spend his first leisure half-hour in the way his 
 sister had proposed. 
 
I 56 The Good Old Times. 
 
 The consequence was, that, hastening home, 
 he drew her out to their old scene of confidential 
 conference, the parapet, and, with something like 
 dismay in his look, said in an under-tone, 
 " Colette, you were right ! She is the Bishop's 
 sister, Mademoiselle de St. Nectaire." 
 
 " Ah, I knew I was right," said Colette. " How 
 did you find it out ? " 
 
 " By following your advice, and watching for 
 her at the Bishop's gate. She rode forth with 
 a gay bevy of knights and ladies ; but there was 
 a young noble close beside her, to whom report 
 says she is going to be married immediately, the 
 Seigneur Guy de Miremont." 
 
 And Christophe stifled a sigh. 
 
 " How one would like to be rich and noble ! " 
 cried he abruptly. " Why should not we be all 
 alike? I suppose we should have been, if Eve 
 had not eaten the apple." 
 
 " A hundred young cavaliers might be as rich 
 and noble as the Seigneur Guy," said Colette, 
 " but only one of them could win the lady 
 Magdeleine." 
 
 " Tis n't that," said Christophe, colouring to 
 find his thought guessed. " But I've one piece 
 
The Good Old Times. i $y 
 
 of advice to give you, Colette. It is most extra- 
 ordinary that the sister of a Bishop, and the 
 affianced bride of a staunch Catholic, should 
 attend reformed meetings. It must be with great 
 danger, and ought to be treated with great 
 secrecy. So let you and I be mum." 
 
 " With all my heart," said Colette ; " but it 
 must be a secret known to many ; to Gregoire, 
 for instance." 
 
 " He has not a suspicion of it. I sounded him 
 as to the unknown lady the very morning after the 
 meeting, but he declared he had never seen her 
 but twice before, and both times closely muffled. 
 He supposed her to be the daughter of some rich 
 citizen." 
 
 "And Gabrielle?" 
 
 " Oh, I have not named her to Gabrielle," 
 said Christophe, with a shrug. " Nor indeed 
 have I spoken two words with her since. Women 
 don't like to hear each other praised." 
 
 And with this axiom, he broke off the con- 
 ference. 
 
 Victor had of late improved his acquaintance 
 with Colette to that degree that he was now 
 habitually looked forward to in the evening, on 
 
158 The Good Old Times. 
 
 his return from work, and always received with 
 smiles. He had generally plenty to say : in the 
 first place, he always knew what was stirring in 
 the town, and sometimes picked up news of dis- 
 tant parts s secondly, he was now warmly attach- 
 ing himself to the reformed opinions ; and though 
 no great scholar, yet having a clear head and a 
 strong desire to form an impartial judgment, he 
 read with zeal and attention the various tracts he 
 obtained from Bertrand, compared their contents 
 diligently with a Bible which he had obtained as 
 a loan from the same quarter, and talked over 
 what he made out for himself with Marcelline 
 and Colette, as they sat round the evening blaze. 
 Christophe had very little genius for controversy ; 
 but yet, like other people, he had his own bundle 
 of opinions ; and these were very much at the 
 mercy of Victor in sorting and turning over ; 
 so that, after making rather a lame defence of this 
 and that point, and being beaten out of it, he 
 would frequently end by saying, " I believe, my 
 good fellow, you are in the right." He had a 
 decided taste for the secret prayer-meetings, that 
 were attended with the zest of danger ; and would 
 accompany Colette and Victor to them as often 
 
The Good Old Times. i 5 9 
 
 as they liked, singing Clement Marot's hymns 
 with all his might, and listening with round, wide- 
 awake eyes to long sermons which he sometimes 
 thought he understood. His partiality for Ga- 
 brielle had some influence in attaching him to 
 her father's party. Gabrielle was a gay-hearted, 
 thoughtless, and very pretty girl, early deprived 
 of a mother's care, and with little zeal for pole- 
 mics ; but she loved her father dearly enough to 
 take it for granted that what he thought right 
 could not be far wrong, and that what he thought 
 wrong could not be quite right. Therefore she 
 enjoyed and repeated many a pungent satire on 
 the abuses of the Catholic Church, with a very 
 easy conscience ; cleaned up her kitchen for the 
 prayer-meetings with cheerful alacrity ; and, when 
 they were held at some other house, thought it 
 pleasant enough to tie on her hood, take her 
 father's arm or Christophe's, and sally out into 
 the fresh night air along the steep streets and tor- 
 tuous alleys till they reached the rendezvous. 
 
 Farel, the ascetic-looking minister whom they 
 had heard the first night, was usually the con- 
 ductor of these secret meetings, but Melan de la 
 Vigne had now appeared upon the scene ; and his 
 
160 The Good Old Times. 
 
 younger brother Bertrand, though his peculiar 
 vocation lay in distributing tracts and sowing 
 seed by the way- side, now and then conducted 
 a prayer- meeting when no more regular leader 
 was present. 
 
 These three men were watched. They knew 
 they were so ; but, till they were " taken in the 
 manner," the authorities affected to shut their 
 eyes, and while they were thus left at large, they 
 actively improved their opportunities, in some 
 respects with an amazing degree of caution and 
 address, in others with as remarkable a reckless- 
 ness of personal danger, always largely relying, 
 and thus far with reason, on the fidelity and co- 
 operation of their adherents. 
 
 Bertrand found so much to do, both in the 
 town and out of it, that he had seldom an hour's 
 leisure, and was sometimes absent from Le Puy 
 for weeks ; but, whenever opportunity presented 
 itself, he spent an evening hour with Marcelline, 
 whose sufferings prevented her from attending 
 the meetings, and took the greatest pleasure in 
 talking to her on the subjects which engrossed 
 his time and his thoughts. Mere Suzanne occu- 
 pied herself a great deal more in preventing 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 6 1 
 
 Michel from tumbling into the fire, or rolling off 
 the parapet, than in listening to what Bertrand 
 arid Marcelline were saying ; but she saw that it 
 interested them both, and secretly believed that 
 perhaps a match might come of it, and that 
 Bertrand, if he could reconcile himself to the 
 thought of such a sickly wife, would have a fairer 
 chance than had ever been the lot of Jacques 
 Guitard. 
 
 Marcelline always felt a pang, when she saw 
 Colette and Victor set off for one of their evening 
 meetings, and she would wistfully look after the 
 blithe young pair running down the shelving 
 street. Sometimes tears would come into her 
 eyes as she turned in doors ; and she never felt 
 her bodily trials more painfully than when she 
 knew or thought it probable that Bertrand would 
 be present at the meeting. But when he came 
 to her, the case was quite different ; she had then 
 all the privileges of an invalid : his first care was 
 for her ; he made circumstantial inquiries into 
 her health, pitied and sometimes advised ; then 
 told her of his journey ings to this or that town, 
 village, or castle, where he had had reason to think 
 he should find " one in a city or two in a family" 
 
 M 
 
1 62 The Good Old Times. 
 
 ready to listen to the word of truth and anon 
 with joy receive it ; how in one quarter it fared 
 like the good seed on stony places, where the 
 recipient had no power or inclination to retain 
 it beyond a short time ; in another, shared the 
 fate of the seed dropped by the wayside ; in 
 another, fell among thorns ; and in others, fell 
 on good ground, and would, he ventured to 
 hope, bring forth thirty, sixty, and perhaps a 
 hundred-fold. 
 
 One dark evening, Marcelline had screened her 
 lamp with her hand to let its light fall on the path 
 till Colette and Victor had passed beyond its 
 reach ; and she then closed the door and returned 
 to her fire-side corner, where she sat down and 
 mused rather sadly, while her mother, undressing 
 Michel in the back room, could be heard singing, 
 in a cracked but cheerful voice — 
 
 " N'erount tres fibres, 
 N'erount tres fibres, 
 N'haut qu'une sor a marida." 
 
 which is to say — 
 
 " Three brothers there were, 
 Three brothers there were, 
 Who had but one sister to marry." 
 
The Good Old Times. 163 
 
 Presently some one raised the latch ; and, to 
 Marcelline's joy, she saw it was Bertrand. 
 
 " I thought you were at the meeting," said she. 
 
 " Is there a meeting to-night?" said Bertrand. 
 " No, I knew not of it, and have but just come 
 in from the" country, cold, tired, and hungry. 
 I suppose Mere Genevieve has accompanied 
 Victor, for the house is locked up." 
 
 " Hungry you shall not be long," said Mar- 
 celline, rising to get him some supper ; " and I 
 hope you will soon be neither cold nor tired." 
 
 " Let me save you that trouble," said he, taking 
 the bread and cheese from her; "where is the 
 meeting to-night ? " 
 
 " At Jacques Guitard's." 
 
 " Oh, then I shall not go. It is at the lower 
 end of the town, and I am too wearied to climb 
 this hill a second time to-night. Besides, I dis- 
 trust Guitard, and meant to warn my brother and 
 Farel against having any meetings at his house. 
 They will find themselves caught in a trap some 
 night." 
 
 " Where have you been ?" said Marcelline. 
 
 " I came last from the Chateau de Miremont, 
 where in the absence of its orthodox young 
 m 2 
 
1 64 The Good Old Times. 
 
 master, his house-steward made me welcome to 
 free access to his household. I sold many tracts 
 among them, and we concluded with a prayer- 
 meeting. 1 did not preach, for you know I am 
 no ordained minister. I wish I were ! " 
 
 " How came you to be what you are ? I have 
 often wished to know." 
 
 " I will tell you, Marcelline." 
 
 " Nay, nay, you shall finish your supper first." 
 
 " Well, I will ; and then my story shall be told 
 by the fire-side." 
 
 He hastily despatched his refreshment, musing 
 deeply all the time ; and then, drawing his stool 
 in front of the hearth, he thus spoke — 
 
 " My father was a printer in Paris. My uncle 
 was a bookseller in Meaux. The books my father 
 printed were sold by my uncle, who was patronised 
 by Briconnet, the good Bishop. Many of these 
 books were controversial, and such as, in the 
 opinion of the Romanists, were heretical. The 
 good Bishop did not consider them so ; he dis- 
 tributed them largely, and invited graduates who 
 favoured the reformed opinions to his diocese. 
 He often condescended to converse with my 
 uncle on these opinions. My uncle, who was 
 
The Good Old Times. 165 
 
 childless, adopted my brother Melan, and in- 
 tended to leave him his business. Meantime 
 the Cordeliers denounced the Bishop as a fosterer 
 of heretics: he was cited to appear before the 
 parliament, and was dismissed with a fine and 
 a gentle reprimand. Inferior offenders were less 
 fortunate ; several of them were branded with 
 a hot iron at Meaux, and then banished. I, 
 being then a lad on a visit to my uncle, was pre- 
 sent with my brother Melan at the punishment 
 of these people, and it made a deep impression 
 on us both. One of these was a man named Le 
 Clerc, who had often held me on his knee and 
 given me sweetmeats : it turned me sick when I 
 heard his forehead fizz beneath the red-hot iron ; 
 but his mother, of firmer mould than myself, 
 embraced him with joy the next moment, ex- 
 claiming, ' Christ and his marks for ever ! ' These 
 words sank into my heart deeper than the iron 
 into his flesh. Melan and I, who slept together, 
 talked over it at night, and felt the zeal of 
 martyrs kindling in our young hearts. He aspired 
 to be a reformed minister, but I said I would 
 content myself with distributing books and recom- 
 mending them. When my uncle heard Melan's 
 
1 66 The Good Old Times. 
 
 wish, he combated it, out of natural fear of the 
 consequences ; but finding that no prospects of 
 danger appalled him, he finally ceded to his 
 wishes, and sent him to Geneva. He then wished 
 me to take his vacant place in the shop ; but my 
 father was unwilling immediately to part with the 
 only child under his roof ; and while the matter 
 was pending, my uncle's patron, the good Bishop, 
 was obliged to take refuge with the Queen of 
 Navarre, who protected him till he died in his 
 hundredth year. 
 
 " My uncle then found himself losing his 
 custom very much, and regarded with suspicion. 
 This made him timid, and weighed on his spirits. 
 We heard of the martyrdom of Le Clerc, who 
 had been exiled to Metz. He had destroyed an 
 image ; and, in punishment for it, his nose and 
 right hand were cut off, a circlet of red-hot iron 
 was fixed round his head, and finally he was burnt 
 alive. 
 
 " His mother could not stand this ; she lost 
 her senses awhile, and then went into a rapid 
 decline, and died. My uncle, who was an old 
 friend of hers, often took me with him to see 
 her. My ardour in the cause was only fanned 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 6y 
 
 more and more by her words ; and at my earnest 
 entreaty, my uncle allowed me to undertake the 
 conveyance of prohibited books to cities where 
 they were most in request, not however distri- 
 buting them from house to house. I was on the 
 point of being bound to him, when a disturbance 
 arose in Meaux ; the mob broke into my uncle's 
 shop, pillaged it, and burnt his books. This 
 affected him so deeply, that he never held up his 
 head again, but drooped and died. During the 
 course of his illness, throughout which I nursed 
 him, his business dwindled away, and at his death 
 it was almost nothing. I then returned to my 
 father, and worked in the printing-office five 
 years. At the end of that time, a wider field of 
 usefulness offered to me in the conveyance of 
 books to various parts of France. My life be- 
 came adventurous, perilous, but to me full of 
 interest. Sometimes I crossed the path of my 
 brother Melan, and we managed to assist one 
 another. The deaths of my father and mother 
 detained me for a time in Paris ; my mother, 
 during her widowhood, could not bear to lose 
 si^ht of me, and wished me to continue the 
 business. But, on her death, I parted with it to 
 
1 68 The Good Old Times. 
 
 a friend, undertaking to get rid of as much of his 
 stock yearly, by itinerating, as I could ; and I 
 then took out a pedlar's licence ; finding it easiest 
 to make my way under colour of having miscel- 
 laneous articles to dispose of. This, Marcelline, 
 is the outline of my poor story." 
 
 Marcelline was going to reply, when Colette 
 and Christophe hastily entered. 
 
 " Bertrand here ? " cried Christophe ; " your 
 brother and Farel are under arrest ! The meet- 
 ing was interrupted and they were carried off! " 
 
 " Said -I not so?" cried Bertrand; "I knew 
 no good would accrue to them from trusting 
 themselves to Jacques Guitard ! " 
 
 " Guitard had nothing to do with it," rejoined 
 Christophe, " at least nothing that I know of or 
 can suppose." 
 
 " Ah, there is no good in that man," said 
 Marcelline, " as those who rely on him are sure 
 to find out soon or late. He has no real favour to 
 the reformers in his heart ; how should he have?" 
 
 " He would hardly mix himself up with them 
 otherwise," said Christophe, " for they are not 
 very safe company. Why should he have let 
 them meet in his own house ? " 
 
The Good Old Times. 169 
 
 " Why, but to betray them ? " returned Mar- 
 celline. " How fortunate that you, Bertrand, 
 were not there ! They would have arrested you 
 with the others." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," said Bertrand ; " but I fear 
 they will not escape as easily as I might have 
 done. I must go and talk the matter over with 
 Gregoire, and consider what steps we must take 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Surely, you had better escape while you can," 
 said Marcelline. 
 
 " Escape ! and leave Melan in bonds ? " said 
 he, smiling. " Why, if I had been at the 
 other end of France, the first news of his im- 
 prisonment would have brought me to Le 
 Puy ! " 
 
 Marcelline felt ashamed of her suggestion, and 
 silently saw him prepare to depart. 
 
 " Farewell, my friends !" said he. " We know 
 not when we may meet again. One thing you 
 can do for the prisoners of the Lord, that which 
 the early church did without ceasing for Peter 
 when he was in chains." 
 
 And grasping the hand of each in turn, he 
 quitted the house, accompanied by Christophe, 
 
i 7 o 
 
 The Good Old Times. 
 
 who said he would at least attend him as far as 
 Gregoire's. 
 
 When they were gone, the aunt and niece sat 
 down together, in silence and discomfort, for the 
 cause was beginning to be very dear to them both, 
 especially in the persons of certain of its mem- 
 bers. Marcelline, remembering Bertrand's hint, 
 applied herself to mental prayer. Then she asked 
 Colette how the interruption had occurred ; and 
 related to her what Bertrand had told of his per- 
 sonal history. After talking it over a little while, 
 they again relapsed into silence ; till Colette sud- 
 denly said — 
 
 " I wonder if the Bishop's sister could help 
 him ; help Melan de la Vigne, I mean ! She 
 must certainly be attached to the cause in secret, 
 or she would not have incurred so much risk for 
 it ; and she owed some gratitude to Christophe 
 for his protecting her. Might she not, if asked, 
 be induced to intercede with the Bishop for the 
 prisoners' release ? " 
 
 " Possibly she might," said Marcelline ; " but 
 do you feel courage enough to ask her ? " 
 
 "Yes, certainly," said Colette. 
 
 " Ah, dear Colette, it is difficult to get access 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 7 1 
 
 to rich people's houses. How could you manage 
 to see her, think you ? " 
 
 "Trust me to find someway," said Colette. 
 " I will take a basket of lace on my arm, and 
 request to see her principal waiting-woman, who 
 is Monsieur Farel's niece. These are times that 
 sharpen people's wits." 
 
Chapter XIII. 
 
 Halting between two Opinions. 
 
 1%/fAGDELEINE de St. Nectaire, surrounded 
 by balls of gold and silver thread, and 
 skeins of gay-coloured silks, and with various 
 books bound in velvet and gold lying about her, 
 one of which, " Le Miroir d'une Ame Peche- 
 resse," was open before her, — looked very indus- 
 trious, if industrious she were not. It must be 
 confessed that the leaf had remained unturned 
 nearly an hour ; and that the white satin scroll on 
 her lap, which was doubtless destined to bear 
 some dainty device, at present only displayed the 
 single but very significant word "Love." 
 
 Magdeleine was aroused from a train of 
 thought by the entrance of her woman, Melanie, 
 who told her that a young damsel was very de- 
 sirous of being admitted to her, to show her some 
 very curious lace ; she added, with a smile, that 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 7 3 
 
 she thought Mademoiselle might be glad of it for 
 a special occasion. 
 
 Magdeleine started, and desired that the girl 
 might be admitted. Accordingly, Colette, in her 
 very best beaver hat with nodding plume and gay 
 buckle, and a little basket on her arm, was 
 speedily ushered in by Melanie. As soon as 
 Colette saw Magdeleine, she blushed deeply with 
 excitement and embarrassment ; while Magde- 
 leine looked at her attentively and with a little 
 perplexity. 
 
 " I seem," said she, " to have seen your face, 
 my good girl, somewhere before." 
 
 " Yes, Mademoiselle," said Colette, dropping 
 her voice, " that is " and, fearful of tell- 
 ing in Melanie's presence, what her mistress 
 might not wish her to hear, she hastily un- 
 covered her basket, and began to produce its 
 contents. 
 
 "This," said she, as she shook out a delicate 
 veil, " is my aunt's work — she usually works for 
 an employer, who takes off her hands as much or 
 as little as she has to dispose of ; but this veil was 
 an idle amusement, she terms it, wrought to please 
 her own fancy. Mademoiselle sees that the 
 
174 The Good Ha Times. 
 
 border is enriched with pertinent devices, gar- 
 landed with roses and honeysuckles." 
 
 " Let me see — oh, T perceive," said Mag- 
 deleine. " What exquisite fancy ! Stay, what is 
 this ? Here is an anvil, with a broken hammer 
 beside it." 
 
 "The Truth is an anvil that has broken many 
 hammers," said Colette. 
 
 "Is that the interpretation, maiden? What 
 says this scroll? ' Gratia Dei, sum quod sum!' 
 Why, that is the Queen of Navarre's motto ! " 
 
 "A scriptural one, though, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Why do you bring this enigmatical veil to 
 me ? You should have taken it to some heroine 
 among the reformers." 
 
 " I thought Mademoiselle had been one," said 
 Colette softly. 
 
 " Why ? " said Magdeleine, starting. 
 
 " In the first place, you call them reformers — 
 not heretics." 
 
 " Poor, conscientious people ! Well, I may. 
 Why should we use evil names ? " 
 
 " Also I have seen Mademoiselle among them," 
 said Colette, still more softly. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Magdeleine, suddenly blushing ; 
 
The Good Old Times. 175 
 
 " did I kneel beside you at the meeting ? You 
 may go for the present, Melanie. Melanie is, 
 however, a reformer herself," said Magdeleine, as 
 her attendant retired, " but," in a lower voice, 
 " no one but my page knows of my having 
 attended that meeting." 
 
 " No one, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " I mean, no one in this palace ; nor did I 
 know that you had discovered me. But I have 
 felt full of gratitude to your brother ever since, 
 and have only desisted from seeking you out, to 
 give you some proof of it, by the perils that 
 would have attended it. You know not how I 
 am placed. For my brother to know I had gone 
 to that meeting, and gone as I did, would be for 
 me to lose his good opinion for ever." 
 
 " It was very dangerous, certainly," said 
 Colette. 
 
 " It was madness, unprotected as I was," said 
 Magdeleine with emotion. " So nearly detected 
 too ! " 
 
 After a moment's pause, she said, " You are 
 right in supposing that I am favourable to the 
 reformers. I have attended several of their 
 prayer-meetings under the roof of my good 
 
ij6 t The Good Old Times. 
 
 nurse, but I should not have gone to Gregoire's 
 had there been time for deliberation. Farel is 
 a kinsman of the famous Farel ; and though not 
 equal to him in fame, has sufficiently the repu- 
 tation of a good preacher to excite curiosity. 
 Melanie is his niece ; she had gone to a wedding, 
 when a message was sent to tell her that her uncle 
 had unexpectedly arrived, and was going to preach 
 at Gregoire's. Claude brought the message to 
 me, and hearing me express my regret at Melanie's 
 absence, since I could have accompanied her, he 
 pressed me to consider him a sufficient guard, and 
 I too hastily complied. I need not say how 
 much I afterwards regretted it, nor how grateful 
 I feel to your brother. Tell me, is there any way 
 in which I can serve him ? " 
 
 " There is, indeed, Mademoiselle," returned 
 Colette earnestly; "for himself, he needs nothing; 
 but Monsieur Farel and Melan de la Vigne are in 
 bonds, and the greatest kindness you could show 
 him would be to prevail on my lord Bishop to 
 release them." 
 
 " Certainly, you are resolved to put my grati- 
 tude to rather strong proof," said Magdeleine 
 gravely. " This is a public affair, not a private 
 
The Good Old Times, 177 
 
 one, and I hardly know that I can undertake it. 
 Besides, they will very possibly be set free after 
 their examination, without any interference of 
 mine." 
 
 Colette shook her head. 
 
 " They have long been watched for," said she, 
 " and will not so easily escape." 
 
 " Well, if it prove so, will it not then be time 
 enough for me to come forward ? " 
 
 " Your pardon, lady, — no," said Colette. " If 
 his Grace be pre-engaged to deal indulgently 
 with the prisoners, he will give them a favour- 
 able hearing, and the consuls will be disposed 
 to follow his lead ; but let them once be com- 
 mitted, and the task will be much harder, perhaps 
 impossible." 
 
 " It may be so," said Magdeleine uneasily, 
 " for, just now, there is a strong feeling against 
 the reformers ; and the magistrates as well as the 
 clergy will be glad to make one or two of them 
 warnings to the rest. But do not you see this in- 
 creases my difficulty and danger if I interpose ? " 
 
 " Think of their danger, Mademoiselle," said 
 Colette — " too probably the stake ! Whereas, 
 you, by a few words — ■" 
 
 N 
 
178 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " ' A few words ' is easily said," observed Mag- 
 deleine, " but they sometimes involve a good deal 
 more than they express. How many people fall 
 off from love and duty to one another, just 
 because they have had ' a few words ! ' " 
 
 " But these would not need to be quarrelsome 
 words, lady," pleaded Colette, — " only compas- 
 sionate, entreating words." 
 
 " They may lead to quarrelsome words, though, 
 as you call them," said Magdeleine. " The 
 Bishop wall naturally ask why I entreat so 
 earnestly." 
 
 Colette was silenced. A tear dropped from 
 her eye ; she began to fold up the veil. 
 
 " I shall have that veil," said Magdeleine. 
 " What is the price ?— So little ?— Oh ! you must 
 take this." 
 
 Colette drew back her hand when Magdeleine 
 held out to her three times the price she had 
 named. It seemed like compounding for leaving 
 the prisoners to their fate ; and she did not like 
 indirectly accepting a pecuniary acknowledgment 
 of Christophe's good offices, which he had himself 
 refused at the time and on the spot. 
 
 Magdeleine saw and understood the feeling. 
 
The Good Old Times. 179 
 
 After a moment's silence, she rang a small silver 
 bell ; and, on her page obeying the summons, she 
 bade him request the Bishop to permit her to 
 have speech of him for a few minutes at his 
 earliest leisure. 
 
 " His Grace has already gone forth, Mademoi- 
 selle," replied Claude, " and will not return till 
 dinner." 
 
 At the same instant the cheerful voice of 
 Seigneur Guy was heard approaching, as he came 
 along the corridor. 
 
 " Ah, then you see 'tis too late," said Mag- 
 deleine, hastily, to Colette. " The opportunity I 
 would have availed myself of is lost — I am very 
 sorry ; but — and I'm sorry, too, you will not let 
 me pay the just price for this veil " — hastily fold- 
 ing it up and putting it aside, lest the Protestant 
 mottoes should attract her lover's attention — 
 " but just now I am engaged, and cannot con- 
 veniently say any more to you. So that — you may 
 go for the present," very hurriedly, as Seigneur 
 Guy drew nearer. 
 
 Colette coloured deeply, and taking up her little 
 basket, curtseyed in silence, and retired in great 
 chagrin at the failure of her undertaking. 
 N 2 
 
1 80 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " How foolish is it," thought she, as she sadly 
 departed, " to build my hopes on the zeal of these 
 grand ladies. How difficult it must be to cultivate 
 the love of God in a palace ! There is every- 
 thing, it seems to me, to repress it — everything 
 to delight the eye and estrange the heart. That 
 young lady seemed full of piety when she knelt 
 beside me in Gregoire's kitchen ; but now her 
 thoughts are full of her gay wedding and her 
 handsome lover — and no wonder ! " 
 
 Had Seigneur Guy's entrance immediately fol- 
 lowed the sound of his voice, Magdeleine would 
 have had no leisure for self-condemnation or 
 regret ; but as he happened to meet the Bishop's 
 falconer, who spoke to him about some jesses, 
 she had a few minutes for thoughts of a very un- 
 satisfactory nature. Thus her brow was slightly 
 clouded when Guy entered. 
 
 " Who was that pretty peasant-girl whom I met 
 on the stairs ? " said he cheerfully. 
 
 " Was she pretty? " said Magdeleine, absently; 
 " I scarcely noticed it." 
 
 " Not in comparison with yourself, adorable 
 Magdeleine," said Guy ; " merely a rosy country 
 lass, looking more pensive than ordinary." 
 
The Good Old Times, 1 8 I 
 
 " She came here with lace to sell. Have you 
 seen my brother this morning ? " 
 
 " I have but just quitted him. He was on his 
 way to the chapter-hall, to examine the men who 
 were taken last night." 
 
 " Ah ! I would gladly have spoken with him 
 first. He will let them off, I hope, Guy." 
 
 " There is very little chance of it, I think. On 
 the contrary, they will probably be made an 
 example of, as there was a fresh outrage com- 
 mitted last night." 
 
 " Ah ! how very unfortunate ! " and her tears 
 were ready to fall. 
 
 " The oratory of the Place du Martouret was 
 broken into, the crucifix broken, and the ex voto 
 dragged through the streets. I understand there 
 was quite a riot." 
 
 " But these poor men could have had no share 
 in it, for they were locked up ! " 
 
 " They could have had no active part in the 
 disturbance, but were probably its exciting causes; 
 and the Bishop is of opinion that nothing short of 
 very condign punishment will answer, because 
 their evil influence is plainly on the increase. For, 
 note you, when the first outrage occurred, the 
 
1 82 The Good Old Times. 
 
 voice of the people was against it; but this time, 
 the voice of the people is for it." 
 
 " Vox populi vox Dei," said Magdeleine. "Ah, 
 no, in God there is no variableness, neither 
 shadow of turning." 
 
 " Just what I was going to say," said Guy; 
 " the people, you see, are for one thing to-day, 
 and another to-morrow." 
 
 " Then, since they will be for something else 
 to-morrow, why punish condignly their offence of 
 to-day? " 
 
 " The instigator's of their offence, rather," said 
 Guy. " For this reason — that men like the pri- 
 soners are not swayed with every breath of popular 
 opinion; they lead, instead of following it; and no 
 matter that in their absence the people return to 
 what they were, if we permit them to be present 
 and keep them up to the mark." 
 
 " Put them forth from among us, then," said 
 Magdeleine ; " that will be enough." 
 
 " We are going to put them forth from among 
 us," said he gravely. 
 
 " Ah ! not that way;" and she began to shed 
 tears. 
 
 " Sweet Magdeleine, your tears always go to 
 
The Good Old Times. 183 
 
 my heart ! Fie ! you are spoiling your white satin 
 scroll and tarnishing your silver thread with 
 them," said Guy sportively. " Come, let me 
 see what dainty device you are embroidering — 
 ' Love ! ' Is this for me ? " 
 
 " Ah, Guy, I can think of nothing but these 
 poor, unfortunate men, just now." 
 
 '* Do not consider them such. They will like 
 being made martyrs of, and we shall like making 
 martyrs of them ; so both parties will be suited." 
 
 " Guy ! how can you — " 
 
 " How can I what, dearest? It is plain matter 
 of fact. They will revel in being burnt, and your 
 divine compassion is thrown away." 
 
 " It is a grand thing, no doubt," said she with 
 solemnity, " to die for the truth." 
 
 And her eye kindled with such fervour that her 
 lover was awed into seriousness. 
 
 " Poor fellows ! " said he, " if it were the truth 
 that they hold, your compassion would truly, as 
 I jestingly said, be thrown away. The worst is, 
 that they will find out their miserable mistake 
 when their doom in this world is consum- 
 mated." 
 
 " And is that a reason for hurrying them out 
 
1 84 The Good Old Times. 
 
 of it ? " cried Magdeleine. " "Why, it appears to 
 me the very climax of folly, as well as cruelty, to 
 thrust a man out of a world in which he may yet 
 be converted, because you think there is only 
 misery without reprieve for him in the world to 
 come ! Guy, I must see my brother." 
 
 " He will have returned ere we have had our 
 ride." 
 
 " I cannot ride this morning — my head aches 
 — I cannot tell what to do ;" and she arose and 
 hurriedly paced the room. 
 
 " What if theirs be the truth? " said she, sud- 
 denly stopping short before her lover. 
 
 " What if it be not ? " was his smiling reply. 
 She turned away impatiently, and he began to 
 play with her lap-dog, when Claude, entering, 
 said, " Mademoiselle, his Grace has returned." 
 
 " Already !" said she, changing colour. " Re- 
 quest him immediately to let me see him." 
 
 " There must," said she to Guy, " have been 
 a very short examination. Either they are con- 
 demned or acquitted." 
 
 " They have not been acquitted, rely on it," 
 said he. 
 
 " I cannot remain in suspense. You will 
 
The Goo a Old Times. 
 
 i8 5 
 
 excuse me, I know. I am sure my brother will 
 see me." 
 
 And, without waiting for her page's return, she 
 threw on a light veil, left the Seigneur de Miremont 
 rather abruptly, and hastened through the cloister 
 towards the Bishop's private study. 
 
Chapter XIV. 
 
 Intercession. 
 
 "VOU here, my sister?" said the Bishop, 
 turning towards her a somewhat ruffled 
 look. " I had just desired Claude to pray you to 
 dispense with my attention for a little while, and 
 to say I would come to you on your return from 
 your ride. No matter. You are perturbed, my 
 dear Magdeleine," said he, clearing his own brow, 
 and leading her to a chair. " What is it? " 
 
 " Brother, I come to speak to you of these 
 poor men." 
 
 " I guessed as much. You have done humanely 
 and like yourself. But their fate is sealed." 
 
 " Ah, do not say so ; " and her tears began to 
 flow. 
 
 " I grieve to see you in distress, my dear 
 sister ; but the ends of justice must be fulfilled." 
 
 " And not the ends of mercy ? " 
 
The Good Old Times. 187 
 
 " Justice is sometimes the truest mercy, to the 
 many, if not to the few." 
 
 " And why should the few be excepted ? " 
 
 " God alone can provide for individual as well 
 as general cases. We, in aiming at individual 
 advantage, can seldom help making the general 
 advantage subserve it ; and, if we can secure the 
 general advantage, we must sometimes be content 
 to let individuals suffer thereby. This is so con- 
 stantly done and seen in the daily events of life, 
 that I wonder, my dear Magdeleine, you should 
 be surprised at it." 
 
 " But I do not want to dispute general events, 
 brother. I only want to speak to you about these 
 poor men in particular. Here are they, guilty, 
 you say, of heresy." 
 
 " And of perverting others to heresy." 
 
 " And, instead of reasoning with them, you 
 burn them ! "What good will that do to their 
 souls ? " 
 
 " In the first place, they may abjure their 
 heresy even yet, and thereby save soul and body ; 
 in the next place, they, if persistent in their sin, 
 may, as notable warnings, intimidate and save the 
 souls of others." 
 
1 88 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " What has been proved against them ? " 
 
 " Preaching heresy." 
 
 " What is their sentence ? " 
 
 " To be burnt." 
 
 " Antoine, you used to be so merciful ! " 
 
 He changed colour a little. 
 
 " You were literally quoted for compassion and 
 tenderness of heart ! Time was, you would not 
 have killed a fly." 
 
 " Nor would I now, if I could help it." 
 
 "Ah, you could help killing these men. You 
 could sway the chapter and the civil authorities." 
 
 " I could not alter my own judgment ; nor yet 
 act in defiance of it." 
 
 " Do you really believe you shall do God ser- 
 vice by this deed ? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " Such a creed cannot be right," said she, 
 drawing a deep breath, and rising from her seat. 
 " A persecuting church cannot be the true church. 
 I once believed implicitly whatever you bade me 
 believe, and held you to be right in whatever you 
 did ; but I cannot do so now." 
 
 " I am very sorry for it, Magdeleine, not only 
 because your affection and trust are very dear to 
 
The Good Old Times, 189 
 
 me, but your salvation is more precious still. 
 Listen to me, my sister ; listen to that word of 
 God of which you are so fond. Hear what St. 
 Paul saith. ' This know also : that in the latter 
 days, perilous times shall come ; for men shall be 
 lovers of their own selves' . . ' traitors, heady, 
 highminded,' — ' having a form of godliness, but 
 denying the power thereof: from such turn away; 
 for of this sort are they which creep into houses, 
 and lead captive silly women laden with sins.' " 
 
 " Brother, I am obliged to you for the applica- 
 tion ! — Certainly, I hope I am not one of those 
 silly women, nor has any man of that sort crept 
 into my house. In spite of your impressive 
 reading of a passage you have garbled and 
 abridged, (for I know it by heart,) I find it entirely 
 inapplicable." 
 
 " I endure not to be told that I garble a 
 passage," said the Bishop, slightly frowning, 
 " though I certainly left out what was irrelevant. 
 You called ours, just now, a persecuting church : 
 criminals, and the partisans of criminals, always 
 consider their condemners their persecutors ; but 
 shall, therefore, a rogue never be branded, a mur- 
 derer never be hanged, a heretic never be burnt?" 
 
1 90 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Brother, you will not find it answer. Men 
 love cruelty, and call it justice." 
 
 " On both sides, Magdeleine ; it is not confined 
 to our church. Calvin is as intolerant, as hard- 
 hearted, as ill-tempered as any man that breathes. 
 Ah, my sister, what evils result from ill-temper J 
 Were this a good-tempered world, the earth would 
 be in peace ! Farewell now, I am expecting 
 some persons who must not find you here. Go 
 for the present, and I will come to you by 
 and by." 
 
 And reluctantly she was constrained to retire ; 
 while the Bishop, as soon as he had closed the 
 door upon her, sat down, covered his eyes with 
 his hand, and sank into painful thought. 
 
 That night, a livid red light lit up the ancient 
 streets of Le Puy, penetrated into the Bishop's 
 palace, the prisoners' cell, the cathedral aisles, 
 the rich citizen's chamber, the artisan's mean 
 lodeing, and was seen far and wide across the 
 country, and in the mountain fastnesses of feudal 
 chiefs, like a huge banner of destruction waving 
 over a doomed city. Le Puy was in flames ! 
 
 There had been a small prayer- meeting that 
 evening at Genevieve Souvestre's. It included 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 9 1 
 
 Bertrand, Victor, Gregoire, Christophe, Marcel- 
 line, Colette, and Gabrielle. Bertrand interceded 
 and wrestled in prayer for his brother and Farel, 
 passionately, imploringly — every one was in tears. 
 Suddenly the little room glared with crimson 
 light ; they started to their feet, and hurried out 
 to the little platform in front. It seemed at first 
 as if they were girdled in with flames, as though 
 there were going to be an auto-da-fe on a grand 
 scale. Men looked grimly on one another, women 
 clung fearfully to each other ; in a little while it 
 was ascertained that their retreat was not abso- 
 lutely cut off, but that whole streets of the lower 
 town were in flames, and volumes of smoke rolled 
 heavily up to the heights, almost suffocating those 
 who inhabited them. 
 
 " Peradventure, they who doom to the flames 
 will perish in the flames ! " said Gregoire, drawing 
 Gabrielle to his heart. " Praised be Heaven, my 
 daughter, that thou art here in safety, Our few 
 possessions may be destroyed, but we have little 
 of this world's gear to be careful for. I will go 
 and look after it, however, and after Fabien, who, 
 probably, is in the thick of the bustle." 
 
 " We will go, too," cried Victor : " we may 
 
192 The Good Old Times. 
 
 help to save the lives and properties of some poor 
 people as humble as ourselves." 
 
 " My brother ! " cried Bertrand. " He may 
 perish miserably, smoked to death like a wasp in 
 its nest." 
 
 " We will ascertain that first/' said Christophe ; 
 " here is a good strong party of us, who may 
 effect something if the wind set that way." 
 
 And, providing themselves with ropes, buckets, 
 and staves, the men were soon hastening to the 
 scene of danger, while the women either timidly 
 stole towards it, or remained in the open air, 
 watching it in groups or apart. Mere Suzanne 
 and her neighbour Genevieve were among the 
 groups ; Colette felt herself drawn nearer and 
 nearer to the scene of action ; everybody seemed 
 out of doors ; the roar of the flames was almost 
 drowned in the uproar of voices ; black forms, 
 begrimed with smoke and soot, were discerned 
 leaping from beam to beam among the burning 
 houses ; others were passing full or empty buckets 
 from hand to hand, others rescuing children and 
 infirm people, others saving furniture ; some were 
 bearing away sick or wounded persons in their 
 arms or in litters, others weeping at the loss of 
 
The Good Old Times. 193 
 
 their property. " Who has done it ? " " Who 
 set the town on fire ? " " The heretics," said 
 many voices. " The heretics shall burn for it, 
 themselves ! " vengefully cried a man who had 
 lost everything. 
 
 At one time, the fire seemed setting towards 
 the Bishop's palace. Magdeleine, pale and 
 trembling, was in her affianced husband's arms, 
 prepared to escape with him the moment their 
 safety should become endangered. The Bishop 
 was in the scene of danger, directing, commanding 
 encouraging with intrepid self-possession. 
 
 Colette knew not how time passed till she 
 returned home, the fire still raging. She ap- 
 proached the little group at her grandmother's 
 door, excited, overwrought, and eager to detail 
 all she had seen. But, alas ! no one was at 
 leisure or inclined to listen to her ; nor had she 
 any thought for the past, the moment she saw 
 what was before her. Marcelline, returning 
 from watching the conflagration; had found 
 Michel's bedroom full of smoke and smouldering 
 fire, which, on her opening the door, burst into 
 flame. Half blinded and suffocated, she groped 
 her way to his bed and tried to rouse him ; but, 
 o 
 
194 *£he Good Old 'Times. 
 
 stupified probably by the smoke, he slept even 
 more heavily than usual ; and after vain efforts to 
 make him move, the poor lame, suffering aunt 
 took him in her arms and staggered forth under 
 his weight, but not until her clothes had caught 
 fire and burnt her terribly. All the men in the 
 neighbourhood were absent ; but the women 
 bestirred themselves with such zeal and success as 
 to extinguish the fire in Michel's room, and then 
 pity and tend poor Marcelline. 
 
 Colette was soon dressing her wounds and 
 moistening them plentifully with her tears ; while 
 Marcelline was suppressing the expression of her 
 pain with a heroism that would have procured 
 honour for a martyr at the stake. There was 
 little sleep in their humble dwelling that night : 
 Michel monopolized the whole of it. Mere 
 Suzanne and Colette took it in turns to allay 
 Marcelline's anguish by applying wet rags to her 
 burns. Christophe did not return till daybreak : 
 he said the fire had not endangered the prisoners, 
 but that four or five hundred houses had been or 
 were being destroyed ; there had been a great 
 want of water, and great mismanagement of what 
 was procured, till the Bishop appeared ; the 
 
The Good Old Times. 195 
 
 Bishop had seen to everything, had made every- 
 thing go straight, had provided shelter for the 
 infirm and homeless in his own palace and 
 elsewhere, and had established order in every 
 quarter. The reformers were whispering among 
 themselves that the conflagration was a judgment 
 on the Catholics for intending to burn the 
 prisoners ; but the Catholics were openly pro- 
 nouncing it a judgment on the city for the 
 sacrilege that had been committed, and vowing 
 vengeance on its authors. Among the suspected 
 persons were openly named Bertrand, Jacques 
 Guitard, and Fabien : and some boldly pronounced 
 them to have been the incendiaries. The city 
 was full of tumults and rumours. 
 
 The next morning, placards were posted 
 throughout Le Puy, offering a large reward for 
 the discovery of the incendiaries, and also for the 
 apprehension of Bertrand, and announcing that 
 a solemn auto-da-fe would as soon as possible 
 take place, to purge the town of its sins and 
 propitiate offended Heaven, to be attended by all 
 the ecclesiastical and civil dignitaries in full state 
 and the entire population of all faithful people, 
 and to include the burning of the two notorious 
 o 2 
 
196 The Good Old Times. 
 
 heretics now under sentence, as well as of every 
 heretical and schismatical book in the city. 
 
 Colette was pre-occupied by commiseration for 
 Marcelline, whose system had received so great 
 a shock that it seemed very doubtful whether she 
 would recover it. She was also deeply grateful 
 to her for having rescued Michel, whom she con- 
 sidered her own peculiar charge, and whose life, 
 valueless as it would have appeared to most 
 uninterested persons, was made precious to her 
 by that special provision of Providence which 
 endears the cretin to his family. Michel himself, 
 neither grateful nor even conscious of the debt he 
 owed his aunt, whom he merely beheld diverting 
 much of Colette's attention from himself, passed 
 the chief of his time either in sleeping before the 
 fire, or, if the sunshine drew him out, hanging 
 over the parapet, consuming great hunches of 
 bread. Though a great eater, he usually preferred 
 liquid to solid food : but, of late, his making away 
 with slice after slice from the great household 
 loaf, made his grandmother and sister suspect 
 that, instead of flinging pebbles, he now flung 
 away bread ; and often did Mere Suzanne shake 
 her head and say, " Naughty boy ! naughty boy!" 
 
The Good Old Times. 1 97 
 
 though she gave him another slice the next 
 minute. 
 
 Colette so seldom left Marcelline that she knew 
 little of what was going on in the town, except 
 from Christophe, and from Gabrielle, who pitied 
 Marcelline sincerely, and frequently looked in on 
 her. From them it appeared that the town was 
 in the greatest ferment and distress : the fire had 
 occasioned immense loss of property and ruined 
 many people outright, while a still greater number 
 were homeless and thrown out of employment. 
 The excitement against the reformers seemed to 
 strengthen rather than abate, and it would appear 
 that it was secretly fomented by ill-disposed per- 
 sons. On the other hand, Colette learnt from 
 Victor that the number of those who either were 
 already reformers or disposed to be such was now 
 being found by them among themselves to be far 
 greater than had hitherto been supposed. Most 
 of these kept their opinions secret, for fear of 
 consequences; and, acting apart, were unaware of 
 their general strength ; but they were beginning to 
 mass together, and would probably prove formi- 
 dable, should any favourable opportunity occur. 
 That would certainly not be just at present, when 
 
198 The Good Old Times. 
 
 the populace were almost frantic for blood, and 
 the authorities were preparing for the most solemn 
 and universal celebration of the auto-da-fe. 
 Fabien, who had somehow fallen under suspicion 
 of having a hand in the sacrilege, had got off and 
 shrunk out of sight ; and Guitard had boldly 
 faced out the charge, and was now serving in his 
 shop, rather popular in consequence of having 
 been active in extinguishing the fire, which, at 
 one time, threatened his own premises. What 
 had become of Bertrand, nobody could say ; 
 probably he had left the city. 
 
Chapter XV. 
 
 Mystery. 
 
 ly/TAGDELEINE had exerted herself like a 
 sister of mercy among the poor houseless 
 and suffering people whom the Bishop had 
 sheltered, to the immeasurable admiration and 
 delight of her lover, who saw her, now tenderly 
 dressing a wound, now shaking up a pillow, now 
 feeding a sick person, now nursing a child — fol- 
 lowed by wistful eyes and heartfelt blessings ; or 
 else, in her own apartment, with two or three 
 rosy little foundlings on the floor, engaging the 
 attentions usually reserved for her lapdogs ; or 
 setting aside her bridal finery to cut out, and 
 direct her maids to make up, coarse garments for 
 the destitute. " I cannot think of such things 
 now ; don't bring them here," she would say, 
 when boxes of exquisite millinery were sent for 
 her approval ; and " O Guy ! " she exclaimed, on 
 opening a casket containing a necklace of pearls 
 
200 The Good Old Times. 
 
 and emeralds, which some distant relative had 
 sent her as a present, " how much sooner would 
 I have had the money these jewels cost to dis- 
 tribute among the poor ! " He called her a saint, 
 a ministering angel, to her face; and many others 
 unfeignedly thought her so in their hearts ; but, 
 though not without her share of vanity and self- 
 complacence under ordinary circumstances, she 
 was acting under the much higher stimulant of 
 the delight of doing good and relieving pain, 
 which to a healthy, benevolent mind, makes all 
 homage, praise, and flattery tame in comparison. 
 She had likewise a thorn in her heart, regarding 
 the reformers : she was one, yet had not courage 
 to avow it in the face of danger. It was possible 
 she might, without compromising herself, have 
 sued successfully for mercy on the two men who 
 had faced the peril she shrank from, had she done 
 so in time : had they not been condemned, the 
 town might not hare been fired by some rash 
 hand, and all the subsequent misery and irritation 
 might have been spared. " Behold, how great 
 a matter a little fire kindleth ! " " The beginning 
 of strife is like the letting out of water," — first a 
 little runnel, then a stream, at length a torrent. 
 
The Good Old Times. 201 
 
 The Bishop took her exertions quite simply; 
 as the illustration of the text, " Either make the 
 tree good, and its fruit (will be) good, or the tree 
 corrupt, and its fruit corrupt." Loving her more 
 dearly than any created being, he in his heart 
 delighted to see her shining in every feminine 
 instance of Christian mercy ; but he would not 
 tarnish her good motives by the fostering of any 
 less pure feeling, either by uttering or looking 
 admiration or surprise. He paid her the higher 
 compliment of telling her his own plans of bene- 
 volence, asking her opinion, and affording her his 
 own, as if there were but one heart and mind 
 between them. 
 
 Magdeleine deeply felt and valued this. Once, 
 when he had spoken to her, with unusual detail 
 and confidence, of his anxieties concerning the 
 distress and excitement of the populace, tears 
 suddenly rose to her eyes, and she exclaimed, 
 " Those poor prisoners ! " 
 
 " Three persons miserably perished during the 
 conflagration," said the Bishop ; " we think of 
 them no more, except to relieve their families ; 
 yet their sufferings were as great as those of Farel 
 and De la Vigne will be. They were unoffending 
 
202 The Good Old Times. 
 
 victims ; these men have broken the laws. The 
 law will execute its sentence on them, whereas 
 their own lawless adherents are suspected of 
 having kindled the fire which destroyed those just 
 persons and endangered hundreds of others." 
 
 Magdeleine stood mute, and he dropped her 
 hand and turned away. 
 
 An hour afterwards, she stood beside him, pale 
 as marble. 
 
 " Brother, if that unhappy Bertrand were to 
 implore access to Melan de la Vigne, to bid him 
 farewell, would you grant him a safe-conduct?" 
 
 " No, Magdeleine." 
 
 " Brother, if you and I were in like sad case, 
 and / were to ask — " 
 
 He did not raise his head from his writing, but 
 waved a negative. 
 
 " Or if /were the one under sentence, and you 
 were to ask — " 
 
 He continued writing, as if not hearing her. A 
 tear fell from over his shoulder on the paper. 
 
 He finished signing his name, and then held 
 the paper up to her. " There ! " said he, with 
 emotion, " I was writing that order before you 
 blotted it. You silly girl ! You foolish Magde- 
 
The Good Old Times. 203 
 
 leine ! You think every one a stock or a stone, 
 except yourself. I know very well I am doing 
 unwisely — am making a concession that may pos- 
 sibly be abused to the public disadvantage ; but 
 I likewise know that I am hereby giving you far 
 more pleasure than if I gave you a diamond 
 carcanet ; and there is so much good in you, 
 despite of your waywardness and wrong-headed- 
 ness, that I love to please you ! So now, take 
 that safeguard, if you will, and send it by whom 
 you will, to the man whom it concerns ; and let 
 him heed the conditions, for his liberty will not 
 be respected one hour before or after the term 
 named." 
 
 She threw her arms round his neck, and kissed 
 him, in spite of his putting her gently aside, and 
 saying, " Fie ! bishops should not be caressed, 
 even by their sisters." 
 
 However, Magdeleine did not look at all dis- 
 countenanced, but quitted him with a springing, 
 dancing kind of step, as blithe as a lark. For, 
 after all, she was very young and very light- 
 hearted. 
 
 She went gaily, then, through the various gal- 
 leries and ante -chambers that divided her quarter 
 
204 The Good Old Times. 
 
 from her brother's, till she reached her own. 
 Then she read the little missive, and became 
 grave as she did so. After a few moments' 
 thought, she rang for Melanie, and said, "Let 
 me see him." Melanie looked wistfully at her 
 before she retired, and the next instant brought 
 in Bertrand. 
 
 He looked a much older man than he had 
 done a week ago ; haggard, unshaven, careworn. 
 He was ashy pale ; and when he tried to open his 
 parched lips, his tongue clove to the roof of his 
 mouth. 
 
 "Here," said Magdeleine to him with the 
 utmost compassion, " here is what you want." 
 
 " Is it possible ! " said he, in a low voice ; and 
 tears sprang forth. 
 
 " You are exhausted," said Magdeleine, weep- 
 ing too. " Some wine, Melanie ! " And she took 
 the cup from her, and offered it him herself. 
 
 Bertrand could not speak, but attempted to 
 put it aside. She pressed it on him ; he took it 
 and tried to swallow, but his tears fell into the 
 cup. " This is weakness," said he, apologetically ; 
 and, mastering himself, he drank some of the 
 wine with a strong effort. 
 
The Good Old Times. 205 
 
 " You have been hunted down, and nearly 
 spent with hunger and anxiety," said Magdeleine. 
 
 " Would that that were all," said Bertrand. 
 " You know not, Mademoiselle, how we have 
 loved one another ! Brought up together in 
 boyhood, frequently sundered in after-life, yet 
 pursuing the same cause, and animated by the 
 same affection. And now — " Tears again sprang 
 forth. 
 
 " You could not, then, have held to your cause 
 as he has done ? " said Magdeleine. 
 
 " God forbid I should fail to do so ! " said 
 Bertrand. 
 
 " You do not aspire, however, to a martyr's 
 crown, or think it worthily purchased by a few 
 hours of suffering ? " 
 
 " I think it would be cheaply purchased by 
 years of suffering." 
 
 " Then, good Bertrand, look less sorrowfully 
 on your beloved brother's fate ; and bear in mind 
 that he will soon have more cause to weep for 
 you than you for him." 
 
 " I will, lady." 
 
 " How soon shall we all be before the eternal 
 throne ! How soon this generation will have 
 
206 The Good Old Times. 
 
 passed away ! Then, how little will it signify to 
 us how we groaned in these mortal bodies, when 
 we shall wake up in our Saviour's likeness and be 
 satisfied with it ! See, / am preaching to you ! 
 Our positions are reversed. Now, be guided by 
 me this once in all things, good Bertrand. Eat, 
 drink, and sleep, that you may be enabled to 
 impart strength and consolation to your brother, 
 instead of requiring them from him. Rest and 
 refresh yourself here, till the hour comes when 
 you may see him : I will be your surety, both 
 while you are here and on your way to him." 
 
 "Surely you must be an angel!" exclaimed 
 Bertrand. 
 
 " Oh no ! Only a poor, unworthy sinner." 
 
 " Excellent lady ! " cried he, with passionate 
 gratitude. " There is only one thing left for me 
 to ask you. Prayers such as yours must surely 
 take the kingdom of heaven by force ; — would 
 you but join with me in prayer for my unhappy 
 brother ? " 
 
 " Willingly, gladly ! Melanie, see to the door." 
 
 " Let us pray." 
 
 Fervently did he pour out his supplications, 
 and fervently did his two companions respond to 
 
The Good Old Times. 207 
 
 them. Suddenly, Magdeleine's quick ear caught 
 the sound of Guy's approaching step ; — the next 
 moment he would try the door ! She rose noise- 
 lessly, made a sign to Bertrand to cease, and went 
 forth, just as Guy's hand was on the lock. 
 
 " You cannot come in just now, Guy," said 
 she. 
 
 " Why not ? " said he, surprised. 
 
 " Because I am engaged," said she, leaving her 
 room, and shutting the door behind her. " Can- 
 not you suppose it possible that I may now and 
 then be engaged on my own affairs ? " 
 
 " Certainly; only I heard a man's voice." 
 
 " Nonsense." 
 
 " Did not I ? " 
 
 " Does such a question require an answer ? " 
 
 " Why, yes ; because, if you admit one, why 
 not another ? " 
 
 "Ah, you must learn to trust me." 
 
 " Of course, I do trust you already. However, 
 just to gratify me, do oblige me, dearest Magde- 
 leine ; did I hear a man's voice or not ?" 
 
 " Why, you foolish Guy, if I were to say you 
 did not, would you believe me, when your own 
 ears, you say, told you that you did ? 
 
20 8 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " I might have been mistaken." 
 
 " Oh, you admit that, do you ? Well, perhaps 
 you were mistaken." 
 
 " But I am almost sure I was not." 
 
 " Ah, do not yield to those impressions." 
 
 " The fact is, Magdeleine," and his brow slightly 
 contracted, " your own conduct has convinced me 
 I was right." 
 
 " You are growing serious now, Guy. Answer 
 me in one word. Can you trust me ? " 
 
 There was honesty and integrity in her tone 
 and her look. 
 
 " I can ! " said he, after regarding her earnestly. 
 
 " Then do. There is some one in the room, 
 or rather, there was, but no one beyond the rank 
 of a roturier. Whether shoemaker, hair-dresser, 
 or glover, is not needful for you to know." 
 
 " I do believe the fellow is a heretic psalm- 
 singer," said Guy, so suddenly, and with such a 
 comic look, that she coloured rosy-red, and could 
 not help laughing. 
 
 " You know, I am not going to tell you," said 
 she, " and you have promised you would never 
 tell tales of me to my brother." 
 
 "Ah, well, I know I have knocked the right 
 
The Good Old Times. 209 
 
 nail on the head," said he merrily ; " so return, 
 by all means, to your conventicle ! Though you 
 were more heretical than Marguerite of Navarre, 
 I am not a Henry d'Albret." And snatching her 
 hand and kissing it, he quitted her with the most 
 perfect good faith imaginable. 
 
Chapter XVI. 
 
 A Festival. 
 
 HHHE bells of every church in Le Puy are 
 ringing ; the streets are thronged with ex- 
 pectant multitudes ; windows are hung with 
 tapestry and garlands ; shops are closed, not in 
 sign of mourning, but because their owners are 
 among the throng : is it a wedding ? the state- 
 wedding of Magdeleine de St. Nectaire ? Alas, 
 no ! there are two stakes in the great square. 
 Twelve thousand persons, headed by the Bishop 
 in his episcopal robes, the canons, the clergy, the 
 censer-swingers, the angel-like little choristers in 
 their white albs, the consuls in their scarlet gowns 
 and chains, all the ecclesiastical and civic digni- 
 taries, are defiling in solemn state through the 
 city, to see two pale and squalid, but undismayed, 
 prisoners burnt to ashes. Not a single " Jesu" 
 is heard from the crowd ; on the contrary, many 
 maledictions and imprecations greet them as they 
 
The Good Old Times. 211 
 
 pass, with bare heads and feet, to martyrdom. 
 Before nightfall, their ashes are scattered to the 
 four winds — seed-corn of the church of Christ ! 
 Their light affliction, which was but for a moment, 
 is exchanged for a far more exceeding and eternal 
 weight of glory. Mark you, reader, how that 
 apostolic antithesis is balanced ? The light 
 affliction against the weight of glory — a moment 
 against eternity. 
 
 Then the city settled to disturbed rest, after an 
 universal indistinct hum or rumour through its 
 streets, like the low growls of a beast of prey 
 sated with impure food, before it sinks into 
 unwholesome sleep. 
 
 A spirit, looking down on that city, with power 
 to pierce through material forms, might have seen 
 here and there a cowed group, talking or holding 
 their peace in sadness round some humble fire- 
 side, or in the family sitting-room of some 
 substantial citizen ; sundry solitary mourners, 
 weeping in their own chambers, kneeling and 
 praying by their own bedsides, one of them in the 
 precincts of the Bishop's palace. 
 
 There were genuine mourners, too, beneath the 
 roof of Mere Suzanne. That good woman had 
 p 2 
 
2 1 2 The Good Old Times. 
 
 persuaded herself, without the least foundation, 
 that Bertrand and Marcelline were lovers : and 
 Marcelline, after saying " Nonsense, mother," till 
 she was tired, had involuntarily thought now and 
 then how pleasant it would have been for them to 
 join fates, had she been well and strong, and had 
 Bertrand really cared for her. And the invo- 
 luntary thought had led to voluntary musing, and 
 the musing to an increase of interest and tender- 
 ness, which she kept hidden away, as she thought, 
 in her own heart, but which did not entirely 
 escape either her mother or her niece. Colette, 
 indeed, feigned total unconsciousness of it ; and 
 when Marcelline, after one of Mere Suzanne's 
 speeches, would jestingly say, " How my mother 
 does talk ! one would think her a young girl 
 instead of an old woman," Colette would laugh- 
 ingly rejoin — " Indeed, aunt, I believe young girls 
 are not so fond of match-making as old women. 
 My grandmother seems to think you and I have 
 only to say whom we like." 
 
 But, since Marcelline's burning and Bertrand's 
 disappearance, the subject had been too serious 
 for jest. She never spoke of him or asked about 
 him except with painful anxiety. " Have you 
 
The Good Old Times. 2 1 3 
 
 heard anything of Bertrand ? " was her first 
 question whenever Christophe came in ; and, on 
 his answering in the negative, she smothered 
 a sigh and folded her hands, ejaculating a mental 
 prayer. Those poor hands could no longer thread 
 a needle or ply her bobbins ; it was with difficulty 
 she could feed herself, and thus be just one degree 
 less a charge to others than Michel. 
 
 But the martyrdoms had only acted as oil 
 poured on fire. Instead of smothering the 
 reformation, it blazed up stronger and brighter 
 than before : reformed meetings were now pri- 
 vately held in the city and in the neighbouring 
 villages, yet not so privately as not to be known 
 of or suspected by almost every citizen in the 
 town. Clement Marot's psalms were continually 
 sung, sometimes in devotion, sometimes in 
 defiance ; images were broken or defaced, scur- 
 rilous inscriptions posted on walls, dogs sent 
 about the streets with rosaries tied round their 
 necks, and a variety of other ways found of 
 setting public authority at nought, and ridiculing 
 the established religion. Michel was again the 
 cause of mourning. One day he was missing and 
 not to be found. Marcelline, of course, was 
 
214 The Good Old Times. 
 
 unable to seek him ; Mere Suzanne adopted the 
 notion he must have strayed into some neighbour's 
 house, and fruitlessly inquired for him. Colette 
 thought he must have gone towards the cathedral, 
 and was hastening thither, when some strong 
 impulse led her to return and look over the 
 parapet. 
 
 Far down below, dashed on a ledge of almost 
 inaccessible rock, lay poor Michel. Her screams 
 brought others to her assistance : one ran for 
 Christophe, another for a rope, the rest pitied and 
 wondered. 
 
 When Colette first descried him, she caught a 
 glimpse of a dark form, whether of man or beast, 
 retreating from him ; but, when she looked again, 
 she saw only the shattered, senseless form, and 
 continued straining her eyes towards it till Chris- 
 tophe, accompanied by two or three men, came 
 up, pale and panting. In perfect silence, he 
 fastened a heavy weight to the rope, and dropped 
 it down, to be assured it was long enough ; then 
 hauled it up, secured it firmly round his waist, 
 bade his companions hold fast and lower him 
 gently, and commenced his perilous descent. 
 
 It made Colette giddy to look at him, and yet 
 
The Good Old Times. 2 1 5 
 
 she could not turn away. He was a pretty good 
 mountaineer, and catching hold of a twig here, 
 resting his foot on a ledge there, he managed to 
 ease his descent very well, and was soon on the 
 platform where Michel lay. Directly he reached 
 it, Colette saw him start, and stand still for a 
 moment, with his back to his brother ; then he 
 disappeared for an instant, and then was again in 
 sight, fastening the rope round poor Michel's body. 
 Colette saw that something mysterious was 
 going on, but had the presence of mind to keep 
 her observations to herself: everything, compared 
 with watching the ascent of her brothers, was of 
 minor importance. She wept bitterly as Michel's 
 dangling form, hardly more helpless than in life, 
 was brought up to the parapet ; she bestowed on 
 it a weeping embrace, and then, as soon as the 
 rope was removed to be lowered for Christophe, 
 she resigned him to the tears and embraces of 
 Mere Suzanne, while she watched for the safety 
 of her living brother. The second ascent was far 
 more important than the first, and attended with 
 difficulty and danger. At length, however, it 
 was safely effected, and she threw herself into 
 Christophe's arms. 
 
2 1 6 The Good Old Times, 
 
 The kindness of poor people to one another is 
 proverbial. Though no one out of the family 
 could look on the death of Michel as anything 
 but a release, the known affection of his relatives 
 for him called forth the greatest sympathy among 
 their neighbours, who condoled with them as if 
 they had lost the prop of the house, instead of 
 one who had always been a burden to it. Colette 
 and Mere Suzanne were the two who felt it most: 
 Colette had looked on him as a legacy from her 
 mother, and had always been in the habit of 
 reproaching herself bitterly if other duties caused 
 her occasionally to remit her vigilant watch over 
 him ; Mere Suzanne bemoaned him as her 
 precious boy, her innocent, helpless darling, and 
 found her only consolation in laying him out, 
 according to the rites of the church she had 
 belonged to all her life, with tapers at his head 
 and feet, holy water at his side, and a crucifix on 
 his breast. The coming and going of many 
 officious friends gratified rather than molested her, 
 for her grief was sociable and garrulous : while 
 Colette, with her apron to her eyes, sat on the 
 ground beside Marcelline's couch, with Marcel- 
 line's feeble arm round her neck. 
 
The Good Old Times. 2 17 
 
 At nightfall, when all were left to themselves, 
 Christophe arose from the chimney-corner and 
 left the house. 
 
 "He is gone, doubtless, to bespeak a coffin, 
 poor dear!" said Mere Suzanne, and, with a fresh 
 burst of tears, she returned to her post beside 
 Michel. 
 
 " Now that we are quite quiet and by our- 
 selves, let us pray," said Marcelline. " You 
 cannot ? Then, I will pray for you." 
 
 " We must not pray for the dead," said 
 Colette. 
 
 " No, but for the living. For you, for me, 
 and all of us." 
 
 She prayed in a hushed, fervent voice, that 
 carried healing to Colette's heart ; and then they 
 remained silent, or spoke at intervals, talking over 
 little anecdotes of Michel, little traits of what they 
 fondly thought intelligence. 
 
 " He certainly was far superior to most cretins," 
 said Colette. " He could use his hands and feet 
 better, certainly had glimmerings of sense, could 
 remember some people's faces who were kind to 
 him ; Bertrand's, for instance. Then, how fond 
 he was of the cathedral ! and, at night, even if I 
 
2 1 8 The Good Old Times. 
 
 could not get him to repeat the Pater-noster after 
 me, he would almost always put up his hands. 
 No one could justly call him greedy, though he 
 was very fond of eating, but he cared very little 
 what it was." 
 
 " For my part," said Marcelline, " I must still 
 rejoice I extended his life ever so little, since it 
 would have been much more painful to him to be 
 burnt to death, than to pitch on his head and 
 break his neck at once as he has done. But it 
 seems you are doomed to have some one 
 dependent on you ; I am now nearly as helpless 
 as he was." 
 
 "Aunt, do not name it," said Colette; " my 
 greatest happiness is to wait on you, and I would 
 gladly have devoted my whole life to you and to 
 him. Do you know, I saw a very strange 
 thing — " 
 
 At this moment the door was softly opened, 
 and Chris tophe cautiously entered, followed by 
 Bertrand, who looked as haggard and careworn 
 as when he had presented himself to Magdeleine. 
 
 Marcelline uttered a low cry of surprise. He 
 approached her, would have taken her hand, 
 but seeing it bound up, desisted with a look of 
 
The Good Old Times. 2 1 9 
 
 pity, and then turned to Colette with tears in his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Do not look on me," said he, " as accessory 
 to the death of your poor brother." 
 
 " You ? " cried Colette in dismay. 
 
 " You recognised me when you screamed, did 
 you not ? " 
 
 " No ! Oh, what can you mean ? " 
 
 " You know how I have been hunted down. 
 Chance, or rather Providence, directed me to a 
 cavern in the rock, which I discovered by climbing 
 from below in search of some cleft where I might 
 shelter. The access to it was very perilous, 
 which made it all the more secure from my 
 enemies, and there was a little water trickling 
 from above, which sufficed to quench my thirst. 
 Food, however, I had none ; and I was ready to 
 die of hunger till I stole into the town one night 
 to glean news of my brother. I succeeded in 
 seeing Mademoiselle de St. Nectaire's maid, who 
 introduced me to her mistress. She, with the 
 mercy of an angel, interceded for me with the 
 Bishop, and procured me a safe-conduct and 
 admission to my brother for one hour. It was of 
 the greatest importance and the greatest comfort 
 
220 The Good Old Times. 
 
 to both. I found the town was in such a state of 
 fury against the reformers, that I should harm my 
 cause rather than benefit it by re-appearing, and 
 therefore I returned to my cave, carrying a couple 
 of loaves with me. When these were consumed, 
 I feared I must again venture into the town ; but, 
 to my surprise, I found pieces of bread lying 
 about the mouth of my cave. It seemed as 
 though God would remind me he was still the 
 same Lord who had sent ravens with food for 
 Elijah. Whence it came I knew not, but I ate 
 it in thankfulness of heart. The supplies were 
 irregular ; one morning, as I was worshipping 
 God at my cave-door, a piece of bread fell upon 
 the rock before me. I looked up, and descried 
 Michel." 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed Marcelline. 
 
 " All is now accounted for," said Colette, 
 shedding tears. "Think of the innocent fellow 
 having the art to save your life ! " 
 
 " I cannot bear to think of it," said Bertrand, 
 drawing his hand across his eyes, " because it led 
 to his own death. Day by day, I fed on his 
 bread and drank the water from the rock ; I 
 mused on Melan's fate till my brain was ready to 
 
The Good Old Times. 221 
 
 turn ; but at length I reconciled myself to it, and 
 when the day of doom had passed, I was enabled 
 to praise God that my brother had joined the 
 noble army of martyrs. Thenceforth, great peace 
 was accorded me ; I prayed much, mused much, 
 resolved much, and read my Bible with delight. 
 But my supplies, though they kept life in me, 
 were, as you know, insufficient for the support of 
 a man's strength. I was beginning to think of 
 venturing into the town, when, this morning, 
 a piece of bread fell down at the door of my cave, 
 followed the next instant, to my grief and horror, 
 by poor Michel himself. I hastened to him, but 
 his neck had broken, and life was quite extinct. 
 Thank God, his sufferings could have been but 
 momentary. While I was composing his yet 
 warm remains, and preparing to descend the rock 
 and come to you at all hazards, I heard you 
 scream. Can you forgive me ? " 
 
 " There is nothing to forgive," said Colette, 
 weeping ; " you could not help the accident ; it 
 is I, rather, who should blame myself for allowing 
 him to be out of my sight. I always was afraid 
 of that parapet." 
 
 " But what has occasioned your' present suf- 
 
222 T/ie Good Old Times. 
 
 fering ? " said Bertrand, turning anxiously to 
 Marcelline. " You appear to have sustained 
 some terrible injury." 
 
 Marcelline averted her head, and said nothing. 
 
 " Ah," said Colette, renewing her tears, " she 
 sacrificed herself for poor Michel. His bed was 
 on fire, and she carried him from it and was 
 fearfully burnt." 
 
 " You saved him, and /destroyed him ! " cried 
 Bertrand. " How different are our positions ! " 
 
 " Come, you must remember now that you are 
 a starving man," said Christophe ; " I have set 
 out the table as well as I can for you, and you 
 must eat, drink, and renew your strength. After 
 that you shall pray with us, talk with us, or what 
 you will." 
 
 4fe 
 
 *5f 
 
Chapter XVII. 
 
 A Wedding, 
 
 HP HE spring primroses had scarcely put forth 
 their green leaves when the city of Le Puy 
 was full of rejoicing at the marriage of Magdeleine 
 de St. Nectaire. Young, beautiful, virtuous, early 
 orphaned, charming in manner, soft in heart, she 
 was the darling of rich and poor. Each party 
 claimed her for its own ; for, while she had 
 shrunk from openly declaring herself one of the 
 reformers, she had sheltered, cherished, and 
 pleaded for them ; and many attributed to her 
 compassion what was in fact owing to her 
 conscience. 
 
 Her nuptial festivities partook of the splendour 
 and publicity of the olden time. Fifty young 
 nobles and knights wore her colours, and vowed 
 themselves her champions in whatever cause she 
 undertook, in whatever danger she might find 
 herself. Fifty beautiful and high-born damsels 
 
224 The Good Old Times. 
 
 clad in white, with scarfs and streamers of divers 
 colours, appeared in her train as bridesmaids, and 
 at night led the dance with the fifty cavaliers. 
 How many noble matrons were their chaperons, 
 how many reverend signiors, courtly seneschals, 
 and warlike barons planted out the intervals, 
 history deponeth not ; but doubtless there were 
 representatives of every grade of rank and dignity, 
 to aid in demolishing the enormous amount of 
 good cheer, which for fourteen days was served up 
 in the bishop's palace, from the lordly peacock 
 and knightly boar, garnished — the one with his 
 feathers, the other with his tusks — to the delicate 
 veau a la crime and the dainty blanc -mangers de 
 Languedoc. 
 
 Then, for the minstrelsy! the sirventes, the 
 serenades, the lais, the chansonettes, the ron- 
 deaux, made expressly for the occasion ! You 
 might have imagined yourself at one of the old 
 courts of love ! The huntings, the tourneys, the 
 ridings at the ring, the masques, the theatrical 
 representations ! Some of these latter, not having 
 been previously inquired into sufficiently by the 
 masters of the ceremonies, proved rather indiges- 
 tible to the Bishop, and to others set in authority, 
 
The Good Old Times. 11 5 
 
 For instance, the curtain drawing up, discovered 
 a venerable lady, no less a personage than Mother 
 Church, very ill, and like to die, attended by 
 various monks and friars, black, white, and grey, 
 whose efforts in the healing art only resulted in 
 making her groans and convulsions more terrible. 
 Then came in succession abbots, cardinals, and 
 at length the Pope himself, at sight of whom she 
 fell into such fearful convulsions, that he shook 
 his head and pronounced he had been sent for 
 too late. However, as soon as his holiness had 
 retired, she began to show signs of revival ; and 
 a man in Geneva bands and skull-cap coming in 
 with a Bible, which he placed in her hand, she 
 suddenly recovered, and clasped it to her heart, 
 saying that now she had found the true panacea, 
 and should live and be happy for ever. 
 
 After this comedy there was a farce between 
 a Father Francis and a Sister Catherine, which 
 made several people laugh till they cried ; but the 
 Bishop looked grave upon it ; and as soon as he 
 retired for the night, he sent for the leader of the 
 revels and desired that the censorship of the 
 stage might be somewhat more rigorously exer- 
 cised. A jest was a jest, but he could not have 
 Q 
 
226 The Good Old Times, 
 
 any profanity or scurrility. So the hint was 
 taken, and the evening's performance was " The 
 Death of Phaeton," at which nobody either 
 laughed or cried. 
 
 When Magdeleine took leave of her noble 
 brother, whom she received without witnesses in 
 her own closet, she thanked him, even with tears, 
 for his affection and protection throughout her 
 girlhood, and prayed that they might never become 
 estranged from one another. 
 
 " But, brother," said she in conclusion, " for 
 give me if I say you should not draw the rein 
 too tightly — with regard to the poor reformers, 
 I mean. See what came of burning Farel and 
 De la Vigne. For one proselyte they instantly had 
 a dozen : persecution only nourishes them ; they 
 triumph in it, and it does your cause no good." 
 
 " I am partly of your mind, Magdeleine," 
 replied he ; " and, as you know I am not of a 
 bloodthirsty nature, I mean to try what moderate 
 toleration will do. Cruelty is abhorrent to me ; 
 and I even so weakly shrink from the execution 
 of severe justice that, if it please God, we will 
 have no more burnings in the market-place. But 
 beware of letting compassion draw you out of the 
 
The Good Old Times. 227 
 
 straight path, my sister ! Beware of itching ears. 
 Like most women, you have more fancy than 
 reason, more feeling than judgment, and you too 
 readily fall a prey to specious eloquence, backed 
 by the appearance of heroism under misfortune. 
 Farewell ; love God, whatever you do, but become 
 the champion of no party, unless that of the 
 Church." 
 
 After the bridal, the festivities were transferred, 
 according to the manners and customs of the 
 time, to the Chateau de Miremont ; where hunt- 
 ing, harping, singing of songs, and telling of 
 tales enabled numerous guests to digest much 
 feasting. Even when the bride and bridegroom 
 were comparatively left to themselves, they were 
 surrounded by a large retinue, and many of their 
 friends and kindred were continually coming and 
 going ; so that their hospitable hall continued to 
 present much the same kind of scene as that of 
 Branksome, when — 
 
 " Nine and twenty knights of fame 
 Hung their shields upon the wall, 
 Nine and twenty squires of name 
 
 Led their steeds from bower to stall." 
 
 Magdeleine had so long been accustomed to 
 
 this style of living that she acquitted herself in 
 
 Q2 
 
228 The Good Old Times. 
 
 her new position with the utmost ease and grace : 
 no wonder, therefore, that with the addition of so 
 much beauty, sweetness, and sprightliness, she 
 became the object of chivalrous adoration, and 
 that she was sung by minstrels, and vaunted by 
 cavaliers, throughout the length and breadth of 
 France. But a reverse was in store. 
 
 One day, she was hunting in a forest, with a gay 
 retinue, when the ardour of the chase led her> 
 accompanied only by her husband, into a sylvan 
 glade unknown to them both. An ill-fated Walter 
 Tyrrel in their train let fly an arrow, which, 
 glancing aside from the stag, pierced the poor 
 young Seigneur de Miremont, who fell from his 
 horse with a groan, and was dragged in his 
 stirrups. The piercing cries of Magdeleine caused 
 the unlucky man-slayer to ride off as fast as he 
 could — not to seek for aid, but to escape detec- 
 tion ; but the next instant the bridle of Guy's 
 horse was firmly seized by a tall, powerful man in 
 the meridian of life, clad in the loose, russet 
 gown and sandals of a hermit. He reassured 
 Magdeleine with his voice, at the same time that 
 he checked the fiery hunter, and disentangled 
 Guy's foot from the stirrup. Magdeleine sprung 
 
The Good Old Times. 229 
 
 from her saddle, and had her arms about her 
 husband the next instant ; but she was unable to 
 raise him ; and the hermit, who seemed to have 
 the strength of a giant, took him up in his arms, 
 and carried him as a nurse might carry a good- 
 sized child, along a little foot-track through the 
 trees which led to his dwelling. 
 
 " A little, lowly hermitage it was, 
 Down in a dale, hard by the forest's side, 
 Far from resort of people that did pass . 
 In travel to and fro : a little wide 
 There was a holy chapel edified, 
 Wherein the hermit duly wont to say 
 His holy things each morn and eventide ; 
 Thereby a crystal stream did gently play, 
 Which from a sacred fountain welled forth alway." 
 
 To his leafy pallet within this little hermitage, 
 the anchorite, who was another sort of man from 
 the villain Archimage, bore his hapless burden ; 
 and having gently deposited him thereon, he 
 fetched water from the crystal stream in a beachen 
 bowl, and set Magdeleine to bedew his face with 
 it, while he himself examined the wound. It 
 proved to be mortal, nor did he think fit to extract 
 the dart, as the life-blood would instantly well 
 out ; but resigning Guy to his wife's charge with 
 the utmost compassion, he hastened forth to see 
 
230 The Good Old Times. 
 
 if haply he might encounter some of the hunting 
 party and obtain their assistance. 
 
 Poor Guy just opened his eyes to give one look 
 of love to his wife, crossed his breast, and with a 
 slight shiver expired. When the hermit returned 
 with Claude, the page, and Etienne St. Arnaud, 
 the Seigneur's squire, they found the unfortunate 
 Magdeleine fallen across his body as insensible as 
 himself. 
 
 Others of the train speedily came up ; others 
 had already ridden off to the Chateau for assist- 
 ance ; so that, in something less than an hour, 
 a concourse of people arrived, bringing with them 
 two litters, in one of which they placed the 
 Seigneur de Miremont, and in the other Mag- 
 deleine. 
 
 Thus was the house of feasting speedily con- 
 verted into the house of mourning ; and Lan- 
 guedoc, which had lately rung with the bridal 
 festivities of the young pair, was now rife with 
 many variations of the sad catastrophe, and of the 
 despair, the almost alienation of reason, of the 
 unfortunate Magdeleine. 
 
 When her agony had somewhat spent itself, it 
 gave place to a settled gloom. Every regulation 
 
The Good Old Times. 231 
 
 of her household partook of the character of her 
 grief : instead of many guests, her doors were 
 now closed against all but those who ministered 
 to her sorrow or its alleviation ; where minstrelsy 
 had resounded, were now only heard psalms ; 
 tales of enchantment and witchcraft gave way to 
 the study of the Bible, and lively entertainments 
 to prayers. 
 
 For this turn of events Bertrand de la Vigne 
 was greatly answerable. He had long before 
 established a friendly footing in the household, and 
 happened to be in the Chateau at the very time 
 the accident happened. He improved the event, 
 as old divines say, to the great edification of his 
 hearers ; and when Magdeleine, exhausted by 
 grief, was ready to become the passive victim of 
 despair, Melanie ventured to bring Bertrand to 
 her; and his prayers and consolations afforded the 
 only alleviation of which her breaking heart was 
 susceptible. 
 
 Thus, while her doors were closed against the 
 world without, Bertrand, without a single anta- 
 gonist, was sowing the good seed within, watering 
 it and watching it spring up into everlasting life. 
 Magdeleine in her secret heart cherished a super- 
 
232 The Good Old Times. 
 
 stitious impression that the desire of her eyes had 
 been taken from her because she had, for his 
 sake, been a lukewarm adherent, if not an absolute 
 deserter of the true light, to which she resolved 
 henceforth to dedicate herself. Therefore, it 
 came to pass, that when the Chateau was again 
 opened to occasional visitors, its lady and the 
 entire household were discovered to be avowed 
 reformers ; and while some regarded her as 
 a schismatic, others charitably concluded that 
 grief had robbed her of her senses, and that she 
 was no longer an accountable agent ; but, by all, 
 her sorrows were held sacred. 
 
 Meantime, in Le Puy, the word of God 
 mightily grew and prevailed. In gardens, in 
 vineyards, in meadows, the reformed preachers 
 assembled large and attentive auditories ; and these 
 preachers, for the most part, were not regularly 
 ordained and trained ministers from Geneva, 
 though they were glad to get such among them ; 
 but, in default of better, they were laymen from 
 the middle and lower ranks, tradesmen, mechanics, 
 artisans, many of them full of zeal and piety, but 
 some of them terribly ignorant, and rather hot- 
 headed. 
 
The Good Old Times. 233 
 
 The Bishop began to repent of his toleration. 
 His ears were assailed, as he rode through the 
 streets, by the lugubrious or vociferous sounds of 
 Protestant psalmody within the houses ; and he 
 published an edict that no one was to sing the 
 psalms of that sacrilegious apostate, Clement 
 Marot, under pain of fine or imprisonment. 
 
 The very evening of the day on which this edict 
 was published, the obnoxious strains were chanted 
 more loudly than ever ; and Fabien, among others, 
 was carried before the magistrates, for transgress- 
 ing within earshot of the Bishop's palace ; but he 
 paid the fine and was let off. Jacques Guitard 
 was likewise brought up, but he protested that he 
 had only been singing an old ballad in the mixed 
 jargon of langue d'oui and langue d'oc — 
 
 " Peyrouna portava au marcha 
 Un toupi de lait sur sa tete ; " 
 
 and that, not being a good musician, he had 
 insensibly lapsed into one of the tunes that were 
 continually being dinned into his ears, and which 
 he thought very ugly. Prisoner's plea admitted. 
 
Chapter XVIII. 
 
 The Routiers. 
 
 /^HRISTOPHE now thought that, as the 
 ^^^ season was advancing, he might accompany 
 Gregoire, who was going to look after his farm 
 and little field, which he had already ploughed 
 and sown. 
 
 Accordingly, the two neighbours set forth ; and 
 as the trees and hedges were already clad in their 
 full green, and the wheat and barley springing up 
 in the fields nearest the town, they thought they 
 had been somewhat tardy in looking after their 
 crops. 
 
 Gregoire was one of the friendliest of men ; 
 and as he had been on the best of terms with 
 Christophe's father, Christophe always felt him- 
 self drawn towards him with uncommon respect 
 and affection. Thus, when Gregoire beguiled the 
 road by asking him various questions concerning 
 
The Good Old Times. 235 
 
 his winter's work, Christophe told him with per- 
 fect frankness how much he had made by it, and 
 why he had made no more ; concluding by wish- 
 ing, with a sigh, that he were a richer man. And 
 when Gregoire asked him why he wished that, he 
 said, with a little sheepishness, " Surely I need 
 not tell you — that I might aspire to make myself 
 acceptable to Gabrielle. Though, ten to one, she 
 wouldn't have me after all." 
 
 " Tut, tut," said the good farmer, " why should 
 not you, in that case, stand as good a chance as 
 another man ? Gabrielle is not harder to please 
 than other girls, I think ; and, if you spoke first, 
 I don't know that she might be unfavourable to 
 you. For my part, I see no reason why you 
 should not set up together this summer, when we 
 have returned to our farms. Fabien has no mind 
 to leave the city, I can see ; and I shall want 
 somebody to help me, either for love or money. 
 And you would do as well as any one else." 
 
 Christophe's heart seemed to leap into his 
 mouth ; and though he knew that winning Ga- 
 brielle's good will was a very different thing from 
 securing the approval of her father, yet a great 
 barrier was removed, and he thanked Gregoire 
 
236 The Good Old' Times. 
 
 most gratefully. Thereafter, they talked together 
 like father and son, and discussed their plans 
 for the summer, as if their interests were in 
 common. 
 
 Gregoire, to reach his own home, had to pass 
 that of Christophe. Instead of the substantial, 
 moss-grown cottage in which the young man had 
 been born, they found only a heap of charred and 
 blackened ruins. The routiers had been there ! 
 Tears of indignation and sorrow started into 
 Christophe's eyes. 
 
 "Cheer up, cheer up!" said Gregoire, laying 
 his hand on his shoulder ; " it was a good thing 
 you were all in Le Puy when it happened. We'll 
 make a frolic, and rebuild it in a few days ; half 
 of the wood-work is only smoked, not burnt ; 
 and I fancy you did not leave many valuables 
 in it." 
 
 " Such as they were, we had no other. It was 
 the roof under which we were all brought up. 
 See, here is my mother's distaff ! " 
 
 " Well, poor soul, it was a good thing the 
 routiers did not pay their visit in her lifetime, for 
 she would have been unable either to keep them 
 out or run away. In former days, I believe, they 
 
The Good Old Times. 237 
 
 respected the poor and only pillaged the rich. 
 As I live, they are stealing among the trees now ! 
 Let us hide in the old chimney, or we may come 
 to mischief. There we shall see and hear what 
 they are about, ourselves unseen." 
 
 It appeared so decidedly a case in which dis- 
 cretion would be the better part of valour, that 
 Christophe unhesitatingly adopted the good far- 
 mer's suggestion, and gave him a helping hand in 
 the first place to scramble up into a little niche 
 for curing bacon, a couple of yards or so up the 
 ruinous chimney, — one of the stones in which 
 being dislodged, afforded them a good loophole of 
 observation. 
 
 A file of twenty or thirty men, without any 
 order or attempt at concealment, came out of the 
 wood, and along the road in front of the cottage. 
 They were ill-dressed, and clownish in gait as well 
 as in apparel, armed with scythes, pitchforks, 
 and bludgeons. When they came in front of 
 Christophe's cottage, one of them, in no wise 
 superior in appearance to the rest, save that he 
 wore an old pair of sabots, while most of the 
 others were barefooted, cried " Halt ! " which 
 they did, after a disorderly fashion. 
 
238 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Here's been some one before us," said the 
 leader, pointing to the ruins, on which the others 
 laughed. 
 
 " No great pickings," said one ; " we shall find 
 better spoil in Le Puy." 
 
 These men, being a mixed party, — natives of 
 Auvergne, Languedoc, and other provinces, — 
 spoke each his own dialect, with more or less of 
 Spanish, Italian, and corrupt French in it, so as 
 to be barely intelligible to his companions. 
 
 " Ay ! Le Puy ! Le Puy ! " cried another, in 
 a voice that had hardly anything human in it ; 
 " you said you'd lead us to Le Puy." 
 
 " I said I would lead you to Blacons," said the 
 first. 
 
 " Who is Le Puy, and who is Blacons ? " said 
 another. 
 
 " Le Puy is a place, a city, you goose," said 
 the first ; "a city full of gold, of silver, of wine, 
 and of brandy." 
 
 " Ah, ah ! lead us to Le Puy ! " cried several. 
 
 " A pretty figure we should make," cried the 
 first. " Why, there are thousands of people in 
 it ! I am going to lead you to Blacons, who will 
 attack it with thousands more." 
 
The Good Old Times. 239 
 
 " Who is Blacons ?" 
 
 " Blacons is a brave captain, a knight of Malta, 
 the lieutenant of the famous Des Adrets, who goes 
 by the name of the Terrible Baron." 
 
 " Ah, we have all heard of the Terrible Baron. 
 He's the man for us." 
 
 " Well, the Baron is otherwise engaged just 
 now, and has deputed the leading of some eight 
 or ten thousand of you to Blacons, who will do 
 just as well ; and he has hardly decided whether 
 to attack Le Chaise Dieu, where there is a Bene- 
 dictine abbey of immense wealth, or to proceed 
 at once to Le Puy." 
 
 " Le Puy ! Le Puy !" cried many voices. 
 
 " You know as little of the one place as you do 
 of the other," said the spokesman, with infinite 
 contempt. 
 
 " Are we going to Le Puy now?" 
 
 " No ; at this moment it is directly behind 
 your backs. We are going to Pont-en-Peyrat, 
 where Blacons has bidden us all assemble, to 
 form some idea of our numbers, and put us in 
 some sort of order. We are all Huguenots ; you 
 must bear in mind that we are all Huguenots." 
 
 " What are Huguenots ?" 
 
240 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Fool ! Men who have a licence from heaven 
 to rob churches and break images." 
 
 " Aha ! that will do. We will all be Hugue- 
 nots I" 
 
 " Now then, for Pont-en-Peyrat. March, — 
 straight if you can ; but no great matter." 
 
 " Huguenots indeed!" repeated Gregoire, with 
 disdain, as soon as the rabble had departed, 
 " pretty Huguenots 1 'Tis such as these that 
 bring discredit on our cause ; and on any cause. 
 The ' good Bishop/ as they call him, of Le Puy, 
 — and he is a good bishop, — lumps us up with 
 this scum of the earth ; and no wonder he wants 
 to put us down. Well, Christophe, I doubt if 
 we shall have many crops to harvest this season. 
 It strikes me we ought rather to get back to the 
 town, and tell the consuls of this rendezvous at 
 Pont-en-Peyrat." 
 
 " It is too late to do so to-night." 
 
 " Clearly. You and I must sleep in my farm- 
 house to-night, and start off betimes to-morrow. 
 Stay ! I spy another detachment of these raga- 
 muffins." 
 
 The whole country seemed alive with them. 
 Five several parties appeared and disappeared, 
 
The Good Old Times. 241 
 
 before the two men could quit their place of con- 
 cealment. Some of these had iron-pointed hats, 
 and cuirasses next their skin ; others wore cam- 
 burons, or quilted leathern jerkins. At length, 
 under cover of approaching night, the two pea- 
 sants prepared to steal forth ; and Christophe, 
 leaping down from his perch, helped his friend, 
 who was a large, heavy man, to descend more 
 carefully. 
 
 " I wonder," said Gregoire abruptly, as they 
 drew near his own dwelling, " whether I shall find 
 the ruutiers have played me the same unhandsome 
 trick they have played you. I shall not bear it 
 quite so well, I fancy ; my house was twice as big 
 as yours, and won't be built up in a frolic." 
 
 Christophe had no flattering hopes to impart, 
 and they proceeded in silence till they reached 
 the old dwelling, the stone-built walls of which 
 remained much as they had been left. But the 
 door had been forced, and there was little more 
 to be found within than without — bare walls. 
 
 Gregoire looked ruefully about him. " Well, 
 here is plenty of firing," said he, " so we can light 
 a fire to warm ourselves ; but the weather is not 
 cold, we have no food that needs dressing, and 
 
 R 
 
242 The Good Old Times. 
 
 a gleam of light might bring the routiers upon us. 
 So we'll e'en eat our bread and cheese in the 
 dusk, and then lie down among the straw. I say, 
 Christophe, you thought me better off than your- 
 self just now ; it seems we are much about 
 equal." 
 
 When they returned to Le Puy the next day, 
 they found the alarm had already been given. 
 They met the Seigneur St. Juste a few miles out 
 of the town, on his way to Blacons, charged with 
 authority to avert the attack if it might be safely 
 and honourably done, by paying down a hand- 
 some sum of money. St. Juste was brother to 
 a man of tried probity — the Seneschal d'AUegre 
 — and was well thought of by his townsmen, 
 though known to favour the reformers ; but in 
 this respect he was considered the more likely to 
 be acceptable to Blacons, who took the good 
 name of a reformer on himself, though no one 
 could have less religion, morality, or common 
 humanity in his heart. 
 
 A little nearer the town, they met a man riding 
 a small, sorry horse, which he was urging on with 
 whip and spurs. On coming up he proved to be 
 no other than Jacques Guitard, who looked as if 
 
The Good Old Times. 243 
 
 he were not particularly well pleased to see 
 them. 
 
 " Good morning, neighbour," said Gregoire, 
 stopping short, " have you far to ride this morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 " What is that to the purpose? " said Guitard. 
 " I suppose you know I have a little farm on the 
 plain of La Condamine ; I am going to look 
 after it." 
 
 " It is to be hoped the routiers have not looked 
 after it already," said Gregoire ; " they have paid 
 me and my companion that compliment." 
 
 "Are they out pretty strong ? " said Guitard. 
 " Have you seen anything of them? " 
 
 " Marry, have I," said the farmer; " we counted 
 five bands of them last night ; this morning the 
 road is clear." 
 
 " Whither were they bound, think you ? " 
 
 " I heard some of them talk of joining Captain 
 Blacons at Pont-en-Peyrat. They said he had 
 some thousands under arms. I would not advise 
 you to be out late." 
 
 " No fear of me," said Guitard lightly; " you 
 know they would respect me as a Huguenot. 
 Besides, La Condamine is not Pont-en-Peyrat. 
 R 2 
 
244 ^he Good Old Times. 
 
 The muster has probably been exaggerated. Good 
 day." And he rode on. 
 
 Within Le Puy, they found all in commotion. 
 As it was possible that St. Juste's embassy might 
 not be successful, the city was being put in a state 
 of preparation for the impending assault. Every 
 one who presented himself at the gates was jea- 
 lously examined before he was admitted ; guards 
 were posted on the walls and in the streets ; heavy 
 old war-engines were being dragged forth and 
 placed where it was thought they would be most 
 useful or most needed ; men were rubbing up their 
 old arms and examining their leathern jerkins ; 
 armourers were having a busy time of it ; the 
 sound of hammers ringing on anvils and the 
 clang of old breast-plates and head-pieces were 
 heard on every side ; men and boys were hurrying 
 through the streets, carrying lances, halberts, and 
 swords, arquebuses and fowling-pieces ; provisions 
 were being collected and taken account of ; chil- 
 dren, girls as well as boys, were carrying stones as 
 large as they could bear, to pile in every window; 
 shop-porticos were being destroyed ; lanterns, to 
 be kept burning all night, were being hung in 
 front of every sixth house ; chains were being 
 
The Good Ola Times. 245 
 
 fixed, to hang across the streets ; and trees that 
 might afford the enemy cover were being felled. 
 All was bustle, noise, ( and activity ; and Chris- 
 tophe, after a hasty visit to his sister, was soon as 
 hard at work as any one ; while Gregoire went 
 to report to the authorities what he had heard 
 over-night. 
 
 Those who could help in no other way, filled 
 the churches, and offered up their prayers. The 
 Bishop was as active as any layman in the town ; 
 seeing to everything, directing what was wanting, 
 and despatching couriers to the neighbouring 
 barons, to warn them of impending danger. 
 
 The weather was warm and close. In the 
 evening, Colette supported Marcelline, who was 
 gasping for air, to the parapet, where she had 
 made her a kind of couch with chairs and pil- 
 lows. They looked across the peaceful plain, 
 watered by the Loire and gently-flowing Borne, 
 and lighted up into inexpressible beauty by the 
 setting sun. 
 
 " See, there is a long train of people coming 
 along that distant road," said Colette. "They 
 appear to be advancing in some kind of order. 
 Who can they be, I wonder ? " 
 
246 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Some poor, terrified peasants flying from the 
 routiers, most likely," said Marcelline. " How 
 sad that such misrule should prevail in the land ! 
 And how shameful that these marauders should 
 call themselves reformers ! " 
 
 " They want reforming most of all," said 
 Colette. " Even Bertrand could make nothing 
 of such ruffians as they are reported to be. I 
 wonder where he is now ? " 
 
 " At the Chateau de M iremont, most probably," 
 said Marcelline, with a stifled sigh. " The poor 
 young lady doubtless needs counsel and consola- 
 tion. But yet, poor people need them too." 
 
 Victor came to his door at this moment, clean- 
 ing an old head-piece ; and seeing Marcelline and 
 Colette, he smiled and joined them. 
 
 "Are you, then, preparing to fight?" said 
 Colette. 
 
 " Every man must do his best," said Victor ; 
 " I have but little to fight for, yet I don't want 
 to lose that little ; besides, every townsman must 
 have some public feeling. I hope, with all my 
 heart, the routiers will come, that we may give 
 them a good thrashing. Young knights carry 
 a dove of their fair ladies into the thick of the 
 
The Good Old Times. 247 
 
 fray ; won't you, Colette, give me a scarf or 
 ribbon, or some such thing ? " 
 
 " One of the little feathers in my hat," said 
 she, laughing, and going to fetch it for him. 
 '-' There ! " when she brought it back, " I don't 
 know what my grandmother would say." 
 
 "This shall not be disgraced," said Victor, 
 carefully fastening it into his cap. "And, Colette, 
 if the worst should come to the worst, you know 
 the way down to Bertrand's cave ; Christophe 
 and I would have made the steps rather easier if 
 we could, but they are all the less likely to be 
 observed ; and you will find plenty of bread and 
 cheese there, and water from the rock. Ah ! 
 here come the Capuchins to take refuge with 
 us ! " 
 
 " Can you make them out ? " said Colette ; 
 " we were wondering who they were." 
 
 " Don't you see their cowled heads as they 
 walk " two and two, with the cross borne before 
 them ? They seem to bear a heavy coffer, which 
 doubtless contains the chief of their treasures. 
 I can almost fancy I hear them chanting." 
 
 " That must be fancy, Victor. See, another 
 party is some way behind them, monks also." 
 
248 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Probably tbe Dominicans. We shall make 
 a holy war of it." 
 
 " But see, see, Victor, those people hurrying 
 across the plain by a by-road ! They come with- 
 out any order, and much faster than the monks. 
 Now they reach the Dominicans. They stop and 
 parley." 
 
 " This begins to be very exciting," said Victor, 
 leaning over the parapet. " Now they hurry 
 forward again. Now they come up with the 
 Capuchins. There are men, women, children, 
 and infants in arms. They travel light, they have 
 no treasure. Now they parley with the Capu- 
 chins ; now they pass on. Come, I shall just run 
 down to the gates, and see who they are." 
 
 " Victor means kindly," said Marcelline, look- 
 ing down the almost perpendicular face of the 
 rock, " but I could no more attempt those steps 
 of his than I could fly down like a bird." 
 
 " No, aunt; but Christophe and I have already 
 talked about it, and we think we can lower you 
 down to the cave without any danger and not 
 much difficulty.'' 
 
 " Plenty of fear, if no danger," said Marcel- 
 line ruefully ; " I think I would rather remain 
 
The Good Old Times. i^q 
 
 and take my chance. But," added she, after 
 a moment's thought, "if I do not go, you will 
 not go; my mother will not go. After all, if 1 am 
 hurt, what will it signify ? and most likely I shall 
 not be. The Lord careth for his own. I will do 
 just what you think best for me." 
 
 " Marcelline ! Colette ! what are you about ? " 
 cried Mere Suzanne, in her highest key, as she 
 toiled up the alley, laden with various vegetables. 
 " We must get into the cave to-night ! " 
 
 " For pity's sake, no, mother," said Mar- 
 celline. " There is, as yet, no sign of an 
 attack, and only think how little we have to 
 lose ! " 
 
 " At any rate, we can throw bedding and any- 
 thing that will not break, down to the ledge," 
 said Mere Suzanne, who having been considerably 
 alarmed by the preparations and reports in the 
 lower town, had returned in an absolute furore of 
 activity. 
 
 Marcelline pleaded for the use of the bedding 
 till some signal of danger should actually be 
 made, and Mere Suzanne reluctantly contented 
 herself with casting her load of onions, carrots, 
 turnips, and beet-root over the parapet, and going 
 
250 The Good Old Times. 
 
 in-doors to pull every article of furniture out of 
 its place into the middle of the room. 
 
 Victor did not return till after dark. He was 
 accompanied by Bertrand. A tear stole down 
 Marcelline's cheek when she saw the latter, but 
 she strove for and obtained self-command. 
 
 " I thought," said she faintly to him, " that 
 you were protecting the Lady Magdeleine." 
 
 " Protecting her?" repeated Bertrand, with a 
 smile. " She would fare badly with no better 
 protection than mine. Sixty of the bravest 
 young chevaliers of Languedoc and Auvergne 
 have pledged themselves to defend her against all 
 comers. The Dame de Blaye, her aunt, is with 
 her, the chateau is regularly fortified and pro- 
 visioned, and many noble ladies and their children 
 have taken refuge in it." 
 
 At this instant, the tocsin began to sound 
 clamorously from every steeple and tower in Le 
 Puy. Christophe ran in the next moment, and 
 began to put on his camburon. 
 
 " What's the matter?" cried Mere Suzanne. 
 
 " Every man is called to arms," replied he, 
 cheerfully. " The people of St. Paulien have 
 come to seek shelter among us ; Blacons took 
 
The Good Old Times. 251 
 
 their town and pillaged it yesterday. He purposes 
 attacking us to-night or to-morrow." 
 
 " Said I not we had better get into the cave 
 before the light failed ? " cried Mere Suzanne. 
 
 " Dear mother, we had much better remain 
 where we are," interposed Marcelline. " In 
 flying from an uncertain danger, we may incur 
 a certain one." 
 
 " It would be madness for you to attempt to 
 descend the cliff in the dark," said Bertrand, 
 " though I have just scaled it ; but, with the 
 earliest dawn, I should advise your taking refuge 
 in the cave, which I have already observed 
 is well provisioned. The routiers, if they take 
 the city, will probably burn it, but they will 
 not hold it long, and then you can return in 
 safety." 
 
 Marcelline was thrilling like a wounded bird at 
 the thought of the descent, but no word of oppo- 
 sition escaped her white lips. Bertrand, however, 
 saw 7 her terror. 
 
 " We shall take you down quite gently," said 
 he, pressing her trembling hand, " and you can- 
 not think what a snug cave it is. Evidently it 
 has been the retreat of some pious recluse in 
 
252 The Good Old Times. 
 
 former times, for there is a little altar hewn out 
 of the rock, and a cross is sculptured on the wall. 
 It is of greater depth than I thought it worth 
 while to penetrate, for the dripping water makes 
 the deepest recesses of it damp ; but the outer 
 part is quite dry, and commands a splendid view 
 all across the plain." 
 
 " What has a dying woman to do with splendid 
 views ? " said Marcelline, smiling, while a tear 
 stood in her eye. 
 
 " A great deal, I think," said Bertrand cheer- 
 fully ; " dying Christians have the most splendid 
 view of all. And it need not make them indif- 
 ferent to the splendid views of this lower world, 
 which are but foreshadows, probably, of the glory 
 and beauty of a better. Not that I admit you to 
 be a dying woman, Marcelline." 
 
 " I feel it," said she softly, pressing her 
 clasped hands tightly over her heart. He bent 
 over her and spoke in a low voice, long and 
 earnestly j and as he did so the look of distress 
 gradually faded from her face, and gave way to 
 the expression of unutterable composure and 
 submission. She neither heard the clang of the 
 tocsin nor the quick voices of her mother and 
 
The Good Old Times. 253 
 
 Christophe : nothing but those healing words — 
 the words of Jesus ! 
 
 Victor had meanwhile entered and hurriedly- 
 drawn Colette into the outer air, just under the 
 threshold of the door. The night was intensely 
 dark, but the lower town, lit up at every sixth 
 house, was in bright illumination, and presented 
 a good beacon to the enemy. The upper town, 
 deserted by its men and many of its women, was 
 hushed and still ; and the cool night air came 
 refreshingly to it across the plain. 
 
 " Colette," said Victor, in an energetic whisper, 
 " many and many a time have I asked you in one 
 way or other, since Christmas, to be mine for 
 ever, and you have always put me off— sometimes, 
 I feared, seriously, at other times in sport. But 
 I do not think you quite hate me, after all ; and 
 though a better and a richer fellow would only be 
 your desert, there's not a man alive could love 
 you more truly. This very night, at the church 
 of St. Laurent, couples are being married as fast 
 as they can. Give me at once a husband's right 
 to protect you, and I shall be twice the man 
 I am now." 
 
 " At once ! Oh no, Victor, I cannot ! To- 
 
254 ¥he Good Old Times. 
 
 night, when there are so many other things to 
 think of, such various and opposite duties for us 
 both to fulfil, I cannot, cannot." 
 
 " What duty should we fulfil the worse for 
 having but one interest between us ? For my 
 part, I feel as if I should do everything with twice 
 the energy." 
 
 " Not with divided thoughts. At least i" could 
 not. Why, you speak of being married as if it 
 were no more than eating one's dinner ! It is 
 a very serious thing, Victor, and one that requires 
 a deal of thought." 
 
 " You have thought of it these four months, 
 and not once to the purpose." 
 
 " And suppose the routiers should not come, 
 after all ! It would be all to no good." 
 
 " You foolish Colette ! What good, except 
 a good wedding-supper, would be missed ? Why, 
 I do believe you are hankering after the flesh-pots 
 after all, and are thinking of all the savoury 
 dishes your grandmother and my mother would 
 concoct at their leisure ! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! I am not." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; and you are thinking how much 
 more you should like to be married in broad day- 
 
The Good Old Times. 
 
 2 55 
 
 light, not amid a lot of other people, but all by 
 yourself alone, that the town might have leisure 
 and opportunity to survey and admire you — " 
 
 " Nonsense, Victor ! " 
 
 " In your bran-new silk petticoat and velvet 
 jacket, and lace lappets of aunt Marcelline's 
 making ; and to hear people say — " 
 
 " Nonsense, Victor ! I will not stay to hear 
 you talk so ! " 
 
 " You shall stay. This time, T will be heard ; 
 it may be my last opportunity. In a few hours, 
 perhaps, my gory corpse — " 
 
 " Victor, that way is worse than the other." 
 
 " Is it ? Then I'll go back to the first. You 
 are afraid lest, so many couples being married at 
 the same time, we, being left to the last, should 
 be the first to die." 
 
 " I don't believe those old, superstitious stories." 
 
 " No ? Nor that carrying salt in our pockets 
 would preserve us from the evil eye ? Assuredly, 
 if I thought Fabien would be among the by- 
 standers, I would empty the whole salt-box into 
 mine. That's the thing ! Fabien's the fellow 
 that stands between you and me, making mischief .' 
 You like him better than me. Very well. If I 
 
256 The Good Old Times. 
 
 get hold of that chap's head in the next twenty- 
 four hours, I'll pummel the life out of it ; and it 
 will only be set down to the routiers." 
 
 " Victor ! Victor ! you get worse and worse 
 every moment, Who cares for Fabien ? I do 
 not, I give you my word ; I disliked him long 
 before I ever saw you, and I think he has grown 
 a very bad young man ever since he has consorted 
 so much with Jacques Guitard. Do you know, 
 he has actually wanted his sister to marry that 
 man ! A man who did not think himself too 
 young for my aunt Marcelline ! And Jacques 
 would hardly take no for a negative, Gabrielle 
 told me ; but declared to her that, if she would 
 have him, she should dress as well as the Lady 
 Magdeleine, and live in as grand a house ! " 
 
 " Under routier law, doubtless. If they gain 
 the town, I shall not be surprised at Guitard's 
 making friends with them- He has always been 
 false at heart. Well, Colette, since it seems 
 Fabien is no real barrier between us, let you and 
 I just run down to St. Laurent's." 
 
 " Certainly not. I am not quite sure, Victor, 
 that I should like to be married by a benighted 
 old priest." 
 
The Good Old Times. 257 
 
 " Ay ? Why, then, here's Bertrand, quite 
 handy. He'll tie us together as quick as 
 thought ! " 
 
 " For shame ! If he were to hear you, I should 
 be ready to sink. He never marries people. He 
 is no ordained minister." 
 
 " Well, if you want one from Geneva, we must 
 wait a little longer, certainly, but — " 
 
 " Yes, Victor, we must wait a little longer ; and 
 is not that enough ? Will you not be satisfied 
 to wait, only a little longer ? " 
 
 " I suppose I must be," said he, smiling ; 
 " especially as perhaps you would not have 
 granted that much if I had not asked for more." 
 
Chapter XIX. 
 
 The Attack. 
 
 WT ITH the earliest grey dawn, Marcelline's 
 descent into the cave was carefully effected 
 by Bertrand and Christophe. The others joined 
 her with less difficulty ; and when Marcelline, 
 still trembling and breathing fast with her excite- 
 ment, reclined on the little mattress they had 
 placed for her at the cave's mouth, and saw the 
 gold-edged clouds announcing the sunrise, she 
 could not help yielding to feelings of admiration 
 and adoration. 
 
 At this moment, Christophe redescended the 
 cliff, bringing Gabrielle, whom he led to Colette. 
 
 " Embrace your new sister," said he. " We 
 have been married, and I have now only time to 
 commit her to your care and hasten to my post. 
 See ! the routiers are already crossing the Borne, 
 and will soon be within gunshot. We must not 
 
The Good Old Times. 259 
 
 wait to let them reach our gates, but man our 
 outer defences. Farewell, dear ones all ! " 
 
 And, hastily embracing his relatives and his 
 new-made bride, the young man once more swung 
 himself up the cliff, and joined his fellow towns- 
 men with enthusiasm. 
 
 Bertrand remained for a time with the women, 
 encouraging them, praying with them, and reassur- 
 ing them by his mere presence. They all watched 
 with intense interest the approach of the enemy, 
 whose numbers did not appear to have been 
 exaggerated ; and who made so directly for the 
 best fords and the least circuitous routes, that it 
 appeared extremely probable they had a spy or 
 a traitor for their guide. In a few hours they 
 pitched their camp on the plain of La Conda- 
 mine, within gunshot of the ramparts. Some 
 delay ensued before they commenced the attack 
 of the town, which doubtless they had not ex- 
 pected to find in such a state of defence. At 
 length, however, the heavy sound of cannon 
 reverberated among the rocks, and wreaths of 
 white smoke ascended the mountain-side and 
 sometimes obscured the view of the valley from 
 the fugitives in the cave, 
 s 2 
 
260 The Good Old Times. 
 
 It was impossible to watch such a scene with- 
 out absorbing interest. The cannonade was 
 presently succeeded by a closer fight ; the towns- 
 men, animated by their chief, the Seigneur de 
 Maubourg, being undeterred by the superior 
 numbers of the assailants from rushing on them 
 with impetuosity. At first their morale seemed 
 likely to carry the day against numerical and 
 brute force ; but at length, after advantages being 
 gained by either party in turn with tantalizing 
 frequency, the enemy came on like a flood, 
 sweeping all before them ; drove the- men of Le 
 Puy into the fosses, and were about to rush into 
 the town, when suddenly the great Pannessac 
 gates were thrown open, and an unexpected caval- 
 cade poured forth to the rescue. 
 
 At the head of this gallant band, consisting of 
 churchmen and monks of every order, well- 
 mounted, and armed to the teeth, rode Antoine, 
 Bishop of Le Puy. He was accoutred in a suit 
 of jet black armour, with a rich gold cross glitter- 
 ing on his breast ; his coat of arms was blazoned 
 in silver on his azure mantle, and a scarlet plume 
 nodded over his helmet. His only weapon was 
 a huge club, which he carried on his shoulder, 
 
The Good Old Times. 261 
 
 for he shrank like a woman or a child from shed- 
 ding blood ; but that club might have received 
 and earned the name of Ceesar's sword — " Yellow 
 Death " — for every routier on whose skull it fell, 
 speedily sank the victim of the sallow king of 
 terrors. 
 
 The apparition of this champion, so well sup- 
 ported by the stalwart, shaven warriors around 
 him, was as successful as it was unlooked for. It 
 turned the fortune of the day. The routiers were 
 repelled with great loss, and the sun went down 
 on their discomfiture ; while within the city all 
 was exultation and festivity ; and the town 
 bands, stationed on the ramparts, made the air 
 resound with merry and insulting tunes, played 
 on hautboys, clarions, and fifes, which sent 
 rage and mortification into the hearts of their 
 assailants. 
 
 Though the town was guarded all night, its 
 defenders were divided into watches", so that each 
 man might have a few hours for rest and refresh- 
 ment. 
 
 Christophe and Victor, in high spirits, paid 
 a visit to their friends in the cave, among whom 
 Mere Genevieve must be enumerated. As soon 
 
262 The Good Old Times. 
 
 as the first congratulations and thanksgivings were 
 over — 
 
 " Gabrielle," cried Christophe to his bride, 
 " who do you think was the traitor who led the 
 routiers across the fords ? Your worthy friend 
 and lover, Guitard ! " 
 
 " Neither friend nor lover of mine," said 
 Gabrielle indignantly. " Just like what might 
 have been expected of him ! But oh, Christophe," 
 lowering her voice, "have you heard or seen 
 anything of Fabien ? " 
 
 "Nothing whatever: I fear he has joined 
 Guitard." 
 
 " Ah, I hope not ! " and her tears began to 
 fall. " And my father ? " 
 
 " Safe at home, supping on bouilli. You know 
 he said it would be as much as his life was worth 
 to come down here, so it was no use pressing 
 him ; but I understand he has done a good day's 
 work at the guns, which he thought more in his 
 way than accompanying us beyond the walls. 
 How fine it was to see the Bishop ride forth, 
 reining his mule as if it had been a war-charger ! 
 His blue eyes really seemed to flash from under 
 his visor ! " 
 
The Good Old Times. 263 
 
 " Do you know how the sortie was got up ? " 
 said Bertrand. " I, who have been in the town, 
 can tell you. The monks were clustering about 
 the cathedral altar, praying for protection, when 
 a voice from the fane suddenly cried, ' Let us go 
 forth ! ' " 
 
 " Whose voice could that be ? " said Victor. 
 
 " The Bishop's, I should conclude," said Ber- 
 trand ; " there was nothing unsuitable in the 
 words, whatever we may say of the way in which 
 they were uttered. I have not yet thought of 
 telling you a strange occurrence which befel me 
 yesterday evening. Passing the mountain you 
 call Denise, on my way from the Chateau de 
 Miremont, I suddenly came upon a tall, powerful 
 man, perhaps fifty years of age, with a dark beard 
 flowing down to his breast, over the gown of a 
 hermit. I said, ' God save you.' ' Benedicite,' 
 he replied ; ' you appear to be a man of peace, 
 like myself.' ' Aye, father/ I answered, ' but this 
 is a time when men of peace are specially called 
 on to be instant in prayer for those men of war 
 who are about to fight on the right side.' ' How 
 mean you ? ' said he. ' I mean,' said I, ' that 
 some eight thousand routiers are about to attack 
 
264 The Good Old Times. 
 
 Le Puy, wherein are many fighting men, besides 
 men of peace, women, and children/ ' And also, 
 holy relics ! ' exclaimed he, crossing himself. ' Is 
 it possible that these wretches can think of 
 attacking the favoured city of Notre Dame, 
 wherein is that miraculous image carved by the 
 prophet Jeremiah, and inscribed by him with 
 a prophecy of the birth of the Messiah ? Surely 
 an occasion like this demands that I, an old 
 soldier of King Francis, should lay aside these 
 weeds, and take my arquebus ! It is not much, 
 indeed, that a single arm can effect, but a single 
 head may do more ; and I should know more 
 of strategies and surprisals, and means of assault 
 and defence, than these peaceful citizens, even 
 with their good Bishop at their head.' Then, 
 taking from his bosom a ring with some symbols 
 engraven on it, ' Carry this to the Bishop/ said 
 he ; 'it has previously been a token between 
 us. Bid him, if he needs me, to send for 
 me without fail.' I said, ' Your errand involves 
 some peril to myself ; however, though I am 
 not going to fight for the city, I will risk my 
 safety for it. We must each do what we 
 can/ " 
 
The Good Old Times. 265 
 
 " And did you take the ring to the Bishop? " 
 cried Victor. 
 
 " I did," said Bertrand. " He knew me well 
 enough, but said nothing, except to thank me for 
 my pains, and ask me if I would undertake to 
 retrace my way to the hermit, if he found it expe- 
 dient to send for him. I said I would. He bade 
 me come to him at nine o'clock this night. The 
 church clocks have already chimed the quarter, 
 and I must go ; but let us first join in thanks- 
 giving for the mercies of this day, and in prayer 
 for protection to-morrow." 
 
 When their short, fervent service was ended, 
 Bertrand ascended the cliff and hastened to the 
 Bishop's palace. It presented a strange medley 
 of warlike and peaceful appearances. Armed men 
 and shorn monks were coming and going ; hot 
 meats and generous wines were being freely par- 
 taken of by those whose strength had been much 
 tried and must be repaired : the Bishop himself, 
 who had given orders for Bertrand's admission, 
 was writing fast in his private study, beneath the 
 light of a bright lamp, with a wine-cup untasted 
 on the table, and a distinguished-looking man 
 beside him. 
 
266 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " Polignac's inertion and St. Juste's treachery 
 place us at disadvantage," said the Bishop, speak- 
 ing while he wrote. " This will do, I think—" 
 
 " My lord, I am here," said Bertrand. 
 
 " I was pre-occupied, and unaware that you 
 were present," said the Bishop, looking up. " I 
 know something of men, and I know that you, 
 with all your lamentable errors of doctrine, are 
 integrity itself. Therefore I trust you to be my 
 messenger to the hermit; and therefore it is 
 a matter of indifference to me that you hear me 
 read my letter to my friend. This is what I have 
 said — 
 
 " ' Monsieur le Baron de Latour St. Vidal, — 
 " ' Be it known to you that the heretics, who 
 have lately appeared in arms in several parts of 
 our diocese, have within the last twelve hours 
 attacked Le Puy, and are at this moment occupy- 
 ing the villages of St. Laurent, Espaly, and St. 
 Marcel, with intention to renew their attack on 
 us to-morrow. We have repelled them to-day, 
 notwithstanding the inferiority of our numbers : 
 nothing can exceed the ardour of our youth, 
 which we find it difficult to repress. To-morrow 
 
T/ie Good Old Times. 267 
 
 the field will probably be ours if you, M. le Baron 
 de Latour St. Vidal, will make a diversion in our 
 favour by rushing down upon them from your 
 height with your disciplined men-at-arms. Every 
 one knows your valour and ability ; no one more 
 than myself. I therefore rely on your acceding 
 to my proposal. With the aid of God and your 
 good sword, we shall be strong. Fail not. We 
 salute and bless you. 
 
 Antoine, 
 
 Bishop of Le Pity, Governor and 
 Count of Le Velay.' 
 
 " That will do, I think ? " said the Bishop. 
 
 " Excellently well," said the Seigneur de Mau- 
 bourg. " That is, it reads excellently well as 
 a letter, though whether it rouses the old lion 
 from his den remains to be proved. But, any 
 way, 'tis a good letter, and I will see it de- 
 spatched." 
 
 And the Bishop having sealed it with his signet, 
 and furthermore secured it with floss-silk, gave it 
 into his hand. 
 
 " Rather than yield it to the routiers, if they 
 beset him," said De Maubourg, with a grim smile, 
 " I'll bid the knave swallow it." 
 
268 The Good Old Times. 
 
 " The floss-silk may prove disagreeable to 
 him," said the Bishop. " Peace be with 
 you." 
 
 The Seigneur departed. 
 
 " Now, for thee, Bertrand," said the Bishop. 
 " Come forward to the light." 
 
 Bertrand stepped forward till the light of the 
 brilliant lamp shone full on him. The Bishop 
 looked at him attentively for a few minutes 
 without speaking. 
 
 " Thou art one of those," at length said he, in 
 a tone quite different from that in which he had 
 lightly answered De Maubourg, " who have to 
 answer for the perversion of one of the most pre- 
 cious of God's creatures. Doubtless, thou didst 
 esteem thou wast doing God service. I blame 
 thee not ; to thine own master thou standest or 
 fallest, for I have promised as much to one who 
 is dearer to me than life, as long as thou ab- 
 stainest from public offence in my diocese ; but, 
 man, it would have been better for thee never to 
 have been born than to endanger the salvation of 
 Magdeleine de St. Nectaire." 
 
 Bertrand was about to answer, gently and 
 seriously, " I think so too, my lord," but he felt 
 
The Good Old Times, 269 
 
 it better to be quite silent. The Bishop changed 
 the subject. 
 
 " To the matter in hand," said he. " You have 
 undertaken to deliver my verbal message to the 
 owner of this ring, that we shall be glad of his 
 immediate presence and assistance." 
 
 " If he come not, my lord," said Bertrand, " it 
 will be his own fault or my misfortune. I may 
 be waylaid." 
 
 " By your own party ?" 
 
 " Oh, my lord ! do us not the gross injustice 
 to call them so ! " 
 
 " Well, I can distinguish. Routiers are not 
 exactly of the material of Bertrand — " 
 
 " And Melan de la Vigne ?" 
 
 " True. Your unfortunate brother persisted in 
 his heresy. You may yet be reclaimed. Farewell ; 
 I have not yet tasted refreshment." 
 
 " You fought a good fight to-day, my lord." 
 
 " Well, I trust I did, with God's blessing. 
 Good night. Here is your pass." 
 
 With morning light, the routiers were again 
 seen swarming towards the town ; but they had 
 only two field-pieces, and after changing their 
 position several times, more to their own loss 
 
270 The Good Old Times. 
 
 than that of the town, they sent a flag of truce. 
 When it had advanced sufficiently near the walls 
 for its bearer to be recognised, he proved to be 
 the traitor St. Juste ; and a cry of execration 
 burst simultaneously from the lips of the towns- 
 men. He himself, perceiving the Bishop, the 
 Count, the Consuls, and all the first gentlemen of 
 Le Puy on the ramparts, was abashed, and visibly 
 changed colour from pale to deep red ; but still 
 had the effrontery to persist in seeking a parley. 
 Being repulsed, however, with the contempt he 
 deserved, he set spurs to his horse ; and, shaking 
 his fist towards his townsmen, made the best of 
 his way back to his new comrades. 
 
 Shortly afterwards they appeared again in 
 motion. This time their assault was directed 
 against L'Aiguilhe ; and they were soon rushing 
 up its steep, spiral path, to the great terror of the 
 fugitives in the cave, who, being not only within 
 range of their guns, but almost able to distinguish 
 their faces, retreated into the inner recesses of 
 their shelter, lest they themselves should be 
 discerned. 
 
 It was while the routiers were thus engaged in 
 sacking the church which crowns the rock, that 
 
The Good Old Times. 27 i 
 
 Bertrand took the opportunity of entering the city 
 with the hermit, who immediately repaired to the 
 Bishop and Count, was cordially welcomed by 
 them, and thenceforth aided them most efficiently 
 with his counsel and assistance. This remarkable 
 man is spoken of in history. No other help had 
 they ; for the barons, caring only for their own 
 selfish safety, continued inactive dwellers in their 
 fastnesses, like the Edomites in the day of Israel's 
 distress. Day closed without any advantage being 
 gained by the assailants ; and again the city bands 
 played triumphant airs on the ramparts. 
 
 The third day, repeated assaults were made, and 
 as frequent sallies from the town took place, each 
 time to the discomfiture of the assailants, who, 
 towards evening, gave up the enterprise and fled 
 in scattered bands, leaving Blacons at length with 
 a mere remnant of the Terrible Baron's men-at- 
 arms to support him. 
 
 His rage was extreme ; but to what purpose ? 
 His allies had dispersed to seek easier prey in 
 lone convents, defenceless villages, and ill-gar- 
 risoned castles, carrying dismay wherever they 
 went, and leaving desolation behind them. 
 Blacons had no resource but to follow, as soon as 
 
272 ¥ lie Good Old Times. 
 
 the shades of night veiled his ignominious 
 retreat. 
 
 When morning dawned, and discovered the 
 plain quite clear of enemies, the rejoicing in the 
 city was extreme. It was not universal, however, 
 for some were nursing the wounded, and others 
 mourning the slain. Victor had received a hurt 
 that sufficiently worked on Colette's feelings to 
 make her consent to marry him as soon as he 
 recovered, which he had, therefore, a double 
 motive for doing as quickly as possible. Fabien 
 was discovered slain, fighting on the wrong side, 
 which embittered the grief of his father and 
 sister. Marcelline was the greatest object of 
 compassion. The exposure to the night air in 
 the cave, her alarm at the vicinity of the routiers, 
 whose random shot had occasionally penetrated 
 it, and an unfortunate slip of Christophe's in 
 taking her up the cliff, were too much for her 
 enfeebled frame to support. It became evident 
 to her awe-stricken nurses that her end was at 
 hand. Often, during the course of that long, hot 
 day, did her eyes slowly turn towards the door, as 
 it became darkened by some shadow, which she 
 thought might be that of Bertrand. As often did 
 
The Good Old Times. 273 
 
 she close them in disappointment, and think 
 within herself, " He comes not ; no, he comes 
 not. He has been much to me, but I am nothing 
 to him. This is always the way with earthly ties ; 
 they fail us when most wanted. I have no claim 
 on him, none at all ; and yet, somehow his pre- 
 sence would seem to give peace and safety. Seem ? 
 would that be all ? Ts there any rod, any staff, 
 but one, that can comfort us in the dark valley ? 
 any arm that can as firmly as tenderly support us 
 through it, but the arm of Jesus? Oh no, oh 
 no ! St. Paul's companions accompanied him 
 down to the water's edge, but they could not 
 enter with him into the ship. I, too, must cross 
 this dark river alone ; and yet I am not alone, for 
 my Father is with me ! " 
 
 Resolutely closing her eyes, she kept them 
 closed, though not in sleep, staying herself on this 
 thought. If she occasionally lost her conscious- 
 ness, it was painlessly regained, and she felt that 
 Colette was constantly beside her, though she did 
 not look up at her. Colette sat perfectly still 
 and mute, in heart-stricken, voiceless prayer, as 
 she watched the grey shade stealing over Mar- 
 celline's countenance. The door and window 
 
 T 
 
274 The Good Old Times. 
 
 were open, to admit every breath of air, but the 
 evening was so still that not a leaf stirred ; and 
 the distant voices of the lower city, neither wafted 
 towards nor from them, were softened into an 
 indistinct hum. 
 
 All at once, the night air blew fresher and 
 cooler — an exquisite relief to dying woman and 
 nurse. Mere Suzanne was praying on her knees 
 in a corner. A lamp was lighted, and placed 
 behind Marcelline, not to molest her. Colette, 
 watching her intently, and wishing she could be 
 secure she was asleep, saw an inexpressibly soft 
 smile steal over her features. Without opening 
 her eyes, Marcelline said, in a low sweet voice, 
 " Do you know the force of fancy goes so far, 
 that I could almost declare Bertrand stood 
 beside me ! " 
 
 " He does — I do," said Bertrand, gently taking 
 her hand. 
 
 She looked up, gave him an affectionate, 
 grateful look ; but with a startled, brighter look, 
 suddenly turned her eyes to something beyond 
 him ; gazed for a moment in ecstasy ; and, in 
 that rapture, expired. 
 
 How the routiers again attacked the city, how 
 
The Good Old Times. 275 
 
 the hermit defended it, how the slothful St. Vidal 
 at length did the Bishop good service, and how 
 Magdeleine de St. Nectaire became the heroine 
 of the Reformation— may be read in the chronicles 
 of Le Puy. 
 
 B. OLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL. 
 
©IHorkS fc» tljc Same Author. 
 
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6 
 
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 a3 
 
 Q 
 
© © 
 
 10 CATALOGUE OF WORKS 
 
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 © 
 
-<6 
 
 PUBLISHED BY ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE & CO. 11 
 
 HAMMERSMITH PROTESTANT DISCUSSION (The), between Dr. 
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 HAPPY TRANSFORMATION ; or, the History of a London Ap- 
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 HARRY COVERDALE'S COURTSHIP, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 
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 - HISTORY OF ROME. In Easy Lessons. Adapted for 
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 HEROINES OF THE MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE; or, Sketches 
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 2s. Gd. 
 
 HERTHA. By Miss Fredrika Bremer. Translated by Mary Howitt. 
 
 Post Svo. cloth, 7s. Gd. 
 
 HERVEY (Mrs. T. K.),— THE DOUBLE CLAIM, a Tale of Real 
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 HILL'S (S. S.) TRAVELS ON THE SHORES OF THE BALTIC. 
 
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 HISTORIC SCENES IN AMERICA. By W. H. Bartlett. With 
 
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 HISTORY OF A MAN (The). Edited by George Gilfillan. Post 
 
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 4. Energy. 10. Reflection. 
 
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 7. Integrity. 13. Young Pilgrim. 
 
G 
 
 12 CATALOGUE OF WORKS 
 
 HOFLAND LIBRARY :— 
 
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 i). Good Grandmother. 
 
 10. Merchant's Widow. 
 
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 12. The Sisters. 
 
 13. Stolen Boy. 
 
 14. William and his Uncle Ben. 
 
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 HOMES OF THE NEW WORLD. Impressions of America. By 
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 HOPKINS' ORTHOGRAPHICAL EXERCISES. New Edition. 
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 HOUSEHOLD OF SIR THOS. MORE (Y*). Libellus a Margareta 
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 HUMBOLDT'S (Baron William Von) LETTERS TO A LADY. 
 
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 HYMNS AND SKETCHES IN VERSE. With Cuts. lCmo. 
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 INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL IN CENTRAL AMERICA, CHIAPAS, 
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 JACK AND THE TANNER OF WYMONDHAM; a Tale of the 
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 JULIAN ; or, the Close of an Era. By L. F. Btjngener, Author of 
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 JUVENILE ANECDOTES ; or, Stories of Children. By P. Wake- 
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 KING ALFRED'S POEMS. Now first turned into English Metre, 
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 LADY MARY AND HER NURSE ; or, a Peep into the Canadian 
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 LAST OF THE PATRIARCHS (The) ; or, Lessons from the Life of 
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 LAURIE (James),— TABLES OF SIMPLE INTEREST FOR EVERY 
 
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 TABLES OF SIMPLE INTEREST at 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 
 
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 LAWRENCE'S (Miss) STORIES FROM THE OLD AND NEW 
 
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 LAWRENCE (F.),— THE LIFE OF HENRY FIELDING; with 
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 LECONS POUR DES ENFANS, depuis l'age de Deux Ans jusqu'a 
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 LECTURES FOR THE TIMES ; or, Illustrations and Refutations of 
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 Fcap. cloth, 5s. 
 
 LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN. By Rev. John Cumming, D.D. A 
 
 collected edition, with additions. [In preparation. 
 
14 CATALOGUE OF WORKS 
 
 LETTERS AND POEMS, selected from the Writings of Bernard 
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 LETTERS TO A LADY. By Baron William Von Humboldt. 
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 LEWIS ARUNDEL ; or, the Railroad of Life. By F. E. Smedlet, Esq. 
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 •with Illustrations by H. K. Browne (Phiz.) 8vo. cloth, 22s. 
 
 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF ST. PAUL (The). Described from a 
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 LIMED TWIGS TO CATCH YOUNG BIRDS. By the Authors of 
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 LITTLE BOOK OF OBJECTS. With Cuts. 16mo. cloth, 2s. 
 
 LITTLE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE ; containing Useful Information 
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 LITTLE WORLD OF LONDON (The); or, Pictures in Little of 
 
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 LOVE, A REALITY, NOT ROMANCE. By Mrs. Thomas Geldart. 
 
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 MAIDEN AND MARRIED LIFE OF MARY POWELL, afterwards 
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 CALIPH HAROUN ALRASCHID (The). Post Svo. 
 
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 CHERRY AND VIOLET : a Tale of the Great Plague. 
 
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 GOOD OLD TIMES (The). Second Edition, with Frontis- 
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 THE HILL SIDE. Fcap. cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 JACK AND THE TANNER OF WYMONDHAM. 
 
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 OLD CHELSEA BUN-HOUSE. Post 8vo. cloth, antique, 
 
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 PROVOCATIONS OF MADAME PALISSY (The). With 
 
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for 
 
 :: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE & CO. li 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " MARY POWELL."— Continued. 
 
 QUEENE PHILIPPA'S GOLDEN BOOKE. Handsomely 
 
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 - SOME ACCOUNT OF MRS. CLARINDA SINGLEHART. 
 
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 TASSO AND LEONORA. 
 
 Ye HOUSEHOLD OF SIR THO*. MORE. Third Edition, 
 
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 MANUAL (A) OF THE ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY OF THE 
 
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 MANUAL OF HERALDRY, being a concise Description of the 
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 MANUAL OF GEOGRAPHY, Physical and Political. For the use 
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 MERRIFIELD (Mrs.) —DRESS AS A FINE ART. With Illustrations. 
 
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 MESSAGE FROM GOD (A); or, Thoughts on Religion for Thinking 
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16 CATALOGUE OF WORKS 
 
 MIRACLES OF NATURE AND MARVELS OF ART. 
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 SAINT PAUL. Five Discourses. Translated from 
 
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 MOUBRAY'S TREATISE ON DOMESTIC AND ORNAMENTAL 
 
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 MY BOY'S FIRST BOOK. By Miss M. Frazer Tttler. With 
 
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 MY OLD PUPILS. By the Author of " My Schoolboy Days." With 
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 MY YOUTHFUL COMPANIONS. By the same Author. With 
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 NEW GIFT BOOK FOR YOUTH, with Twenty-six Illustrations. 
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 OCCASIONAL DISCOURSES. By Rev. John Cumming, D.D New 
 
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 OLD FOREST RANGER (The) ; or, Wild Sports of India on the 
 
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 <§ 
 
PUBLISHED BY ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE i 
 
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 ORIGINAL POEMS FOR INFANT MINDS. A Ne 
 
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 OUR FATHER; a Manual of Family Prayers for Gen- 
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 PAUL PERCIVAL ; or, the Young Adventurer. With Cuts. 16mo. 
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 PAYNE'S (Joseph) SELECT POETRY FOR CHILDREN; with 
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 STUDIES IN ENGLISH POETRY ; with short 
 
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 PHILOSOPHICAL CONVERSATIONS, in which are familiarly ex- 
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 PICTORIAL SPELLING BOOK; or, Lessons on Facts and Objects. 
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 PILGRIMAGES TO ENGLISH SHRINES. By Mrs. S. C. Hall. 
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 PIPPIE'S WARNING ; or, the Adventures of a Dancing Dog. By 
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 POPISH INFALLIBILITY. By C. H. Collette. Fcap. sewed, Is. 
 © ■ © 
 
-© 
 
 CATALOGUE OF WORKS 
 
 C STUDIES; or, Lectures on the Book of Daniel. By 
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 "' CATECHISM (The) ; or, the True Christian's Defence 
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 N"S OF MADAME PALISSY (The). By the Author of 
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 ^A OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Written by St. Bona- 
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 PULPIT PSALM BOOK (The), Edited by the Rev. John Cumming, 
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 RHYMES FOR THE NURSERY. By the Authors of " Original 
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 Illustrated Edition, in Large Type. 
 
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 RIPPON'S (Dr.) SELECTION OF HYMNS FROM THE BEST 
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 ROMAINE'S LIFE, WALK, AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH. 18mo. 
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 K~ 
 
PUBLISHED BY ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE & CO. 19 
 
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 ROWBOTHAM'S (J., f.r.s.a.) DERIVATIVE SPELLING BOOK, 
 
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 (Q) © 
 
® 8) 
 
 20 CATALOGUE OF WORKS 
 
 SCRIPTURE SITES AND SCENES, from actual Survey, in Egypt, 
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 SELECT POETRY FOR CHILDREN; With brief Explanatory 
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 SHARPE'S LONDON JOURNAL. A Miscellany of Entertainment 
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