Jacques Bonneval Part 6

"Jacques, dear Jacques," said Madeleine, whispering energetically and distinctly, close to my ear, "be of good courage, and G.o.d will help thee. I have found a place of safety in the vaults of Les Arenes, whither Gabrielle has already taken the children; and now, if you can but master the pain enough to get there with such help as we can give you, before the dragoons return, we shall all be safe."

"Oh, most certainly I will," said I, trying to rise; but when I attempted to set my feet to the ground, I was in such anguish that I nearly fell down; but what will not "needs must" effect? The poor galley-slaves at Ma.r.s.eilles and Dunkirk can tell how, when it seems impossible for them to pull another stroke, the taskmaster's whip, mercilessly applied, proves that they not only can pull still, but pull well too. I am ashamed to say how these two beloved women had almost to carry me, a stout youth; and even all their strength might have been insufficient but for the potent spur of the dragoons' return. With an arm round the neck of each, and resting almost my entire weight on their shoulders, I managed to scuffle along, very slowly and with fearful pain, towards Les Arenes. We paused now and then, under the deep shadow of a wall, for me to regain my strength. I was astonished at my mother's utter forgetfulness of herself in her care for me; and said, "Were you much burnt, my mother?"

"No, my son; no," she answered, cheerfully; but in truth she was sadly seared and blistered, and her heroism under suffering might be likened to that of the martyrs of old.

"What took place after I fainted?" said I.

"They believed you were dead, and threw you into the road," said my mother, "saying they hoped the dogs would come and lick your blood like Ahab's. After that a trumpet was blown, and there seemed something going on in the town, and they all ran off. The children had meanwhile taken refuge with Madeleine; and I then took the opportunity of raising your father, after cutting his bonds, and sending him off to the factory, whence he was to return with men to carry you away, but they have never come, and I fear some mischief may have befallen him. I would fain have gone to see, but you were my first object. I could not carry you, and went to Madeleine for help. She had just gone with Gabrielle and the children to Les Arenes; but while I was preparing bandages and a liniment for your poor feet, she returned and accompanied me back."

"Madeleine is a good angel," said I, pressing my arm more closely to her.

"What is your case to-day, may be ours to-morrow," said she.

We continued our painful and tedious course, "lurking in the thievish corners of the streets," like evil-doers, if we saw any one coming. The moon was dangerously bright, but the shadows were proportionately dark, and at length we reached Les Arenes, with their depths of mysterious shadow, and solemn pillars and arches silvered by the white beams.

Though the amphitheatre is in the heart of the city, the neighborhood seemed unusually deserted. People had fled, or were cowering in hiding-places, or were flocking to see what was going on elsewhere.

I cannot otherwise account for it. Only that as we pa.s.sed near the house of good old Monsieur de Lacca.s.sagne, we could hear the abominable uproar of drums within it, and it would seem as if all the drummers in Nismes must have been congregated to drive the poor old gentleman to distraction. We had also seen in the distance, floods of light streaming from the windows of the cathedral, and heard a strange murmur of cries, and we afterwards learnt that mult.i.tudes of poor people of the baser sort had been driven like oxen or silly sheep into the church, p.r.i.c.ked on by the dragoons' swords and shouts of "Kill! kill!" to be present at ma.s.s.

But now, as we gained a spot where, at the end of a street, we could gain a distant glimpse of our factory, we perceived the sky red with flurid flames bursting from it.

"The factory is on fire!" I exclaimed.

Then my mother wrung her hands, crying, "Oh, my husband! you are ruined, perhaps sacrificed! I must go in quest of thee, and leave my son with a faithful friend."

Then she hastened off towards the factory, and I could not blame her nor wonder at her, though my heart misgave me that she might fall into mischief.

Madeleine's support was insufficient for me now; but I set my teeth like a flint, and commanded the pain I was in every time I set foot to the ground. Was it not alleviation enough to have her dear arm for my stay, and her tender hand wiping from my brow the drops forced forth by my suffering?

Then we came to some steps. These gave me much trouble to descend, especially as we were so nearly in the dark, but Madeleine seemed to know them pretty well.

"I have often been here already," whispered she, "only not after dark, and have laid in stores of many things necessary for our subsistence."

We were now groping along a chill stone pa.s.sage, and were presently brought up by a wall right in front, against which we violently hit our heads.

"I fear I have missed the way," said Madeleine, in alarm. "Hark! I hear the children laughing. Nothing damps the spirits at their age."

The next turn brought us to the entrance of a chamber, or rather den, for it had probably been built for wild beasts, and formerly tenanted by them. A ruddy fire burned in the middle, and circles of smoke escaped through crannies and fissures, for of course there was no chimney.

A savory steam arose from a large black pot suspended over this fire, and round it was gathered a motley and unruly group, not Gabrielle and the children, but of tramps, gipsies, peddlers, and very likely thieves.

Swarthy Morescoes, Basques, I know not how many nations, were there represented. They were singing, carousing, and making much noise.

"Here's a pretty lady," cried a gipsy woman, as Madeleine shrank back affrighted.

"Welcome, welcome!" cried one or two voices. "Come and make one of us."

"Not so fast," said a dissentient voice. "There's a young man with her.

How do we know he is not a spy?"

"Good sir, I am lame on both feet," said I, and was turning away with Madeleine, both of us anxious to plunge into the darkness, out of their sight, when a threatening, swarthy man, of great strength, prevented our departure.

"You are neither of you going," said he, defiantly, "till you give some account of yourselves and your object."

"We are harmless people; we have only mistaken our way," interposed Madeleine.

"Soho! Only mistaken your way? And how come harmless people to be abroad at this time of night, groping about among the vaults of Les Arenes?"

Before there was time to answer, a tall, lean man in black, with a bottle in his hand, which he had just removed from his lips, came forward from a corner, and said. "Hold, there, enough has been said.

I know this young man, and, I dare say, this young maiden. We are very good friends. Don't you remember me?" looking sharply at me.

"Not exactly," said I, straining my memory.

"Oh, come, don't deny it. Last time you had the best of it; this time I have. Don't you remember the Fair of Beaucaire?"

"Yes, of course, sir," said Madeleine, readily, "and your beautiful needles and pins and pretty equipage."

The needle-vender looked pleased, and said, "You have a better memory than the young fellow; however, I owe him a good turn. You saved me from the hoofs of le Docteur Jameray's horse, and lent me your handkerchief.

I have had it in keeping for you ever since," drawing it from his breast. Then, turning to his companions, he said, "Excuse me; I attend these young persons a little way. They are friends, and the young man is ill."

In fact, my head swam round, and I swooned again, and have no remembrance but of a confused babble of sounds. When I came to, Madeleine and the needle-seller, whose name was La Croissette, were conveying me between them; or, in fact, he was chiefly carrying me, and she supporting my feet. I said, "Set me down, I'll try to walk," but found I could not. Then she said, "Wait here; I'll run on a little, and find where Gabrielle is."

I would have stayed her, but she was gone. La Croissette said, "You seem in trouble; what is it?"

I said, "Don't you know the dragoons are in Nismes? They have tried to burn my mother, have bound and beaten my father, destroyed our property, and cudgelled and burnt me till I cannot stand."

He drew in his breath, and said, "Any one of those things is trouble enough. Is that pretty girl your sister?"

"No; my affianced wife."

"And you have taken to Les Arenes for safety, and left your father and mother behind?"

"Not willingly, you may be sure. My mother and Madeleine half carried me hither. Then we saw my father's silk factory in flames, and she ran to find him."

Madeleine here returned, and said, encouragingly, "I have found where they are; it is a very little way, and they look so comfortable!"

With her help and La Croissette's I dragged myself along, and though it seemed a long way off, we got there at last; and very snug did the old vault look, with the little brazier and the lamp, and the curtain to keep off the draught, and food and bedding on the floor. I sank down on the straw they had prepared for me, and never was couch of down more grateful to a luxurious man than this poor pallet to me. La Croissette viewed the whole party with keenness, then, putting his bottle to my lips, said, "Take this; there's a little left." Whatever it was, it revived me; and then he nodded, said "Bon soir," and went away.

I now became anxious for my parents, though Madeleine a.s.sured me they knew the way to our retreat. A long time pa.s.sed; the children fell asleep; we remained in anxious suspense. At length we heard footsteps.

Were they of friend or foe? Madeleine went out to see. I could not bear her taking on herself every office that ought to devolve upon me, but could not help it. In a few instants she guided my father and mother into our dungeon, holding a hand of each. As they entered, the red fire-light leaped up and showed their grave faces. The first thing my father did, after taking us in at a glance, was to say, "Children, let us pray!"

Even the little ones, roused from their slumber, and but half awake, put up their hands. My mother and the girls knelt; my father stood.

His prayer began with earnest thanksgiving that we were all together again, and that, though his worldly substance had been taken from him, there was no loss of life or limb. Then he returned hearty thanks that, in this our day of spiritual trial and temptation, there had been no apostacy, no temporizing cowardice, no falling short. But, he added, he knew, and we all knew, that this was but the beginning of sorrows; that many a sore trial and temptation remained behind; that we had no strength of our own wherewith to meet it; but that there was all-sufficient strength in the great Captain of our salvation. Then he prayed the Lord to give us his strength, sufficient for our day, whatever it might be, even as He had strengthened Daniel in the lions'

den, and Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace, and Peter and Paul and Silas in prison, and John in Patmos; and that we might have grace to rejoice at being accounted worthy to suffer for his name's sake, and be strengthened to bear testimony even before kings if need were; and to cast all our burden upon Him, not caring much for the things of this life, knowing that he could reduplicate them if it were his will, at any time, as he had done to Job.

While he thus prayed, an ineffable calm and sweetness took possession of me, my eyes involuntarily closed, or, if opened at intervals, only saw vague, uncertain forms, and thus a deep, deep sleep fell on me, without even a dream, that lulled all sense of pain, and loss, and fear, and sorrow, until morning.

"For so he giveth his beloved sleep." Words how beautiful, and true, and rea.s.suring! They that expend all their little strength for him, and lay their little substance at his feet, are his beloved. There is no need to be afraid we are not; we know it; we feel it; we have the witness in ourselves, just as the child, nestling in his father's arms, knows that he loves and is beloved. I have heard persons say, "Have you the faith of a.s.surance?" Yes, thank G.o.d, I have it, and have had it ever since He was first graciously pleased to call me to Him, and that was long, long ago. But all have not this faith; just as a man, wanting to go to Bordeaux, may not be a.s.sured he is on the road to Bordeaux, and yet he may be on the way thither nevertheless. Then if you have not the faith of a.s.surance, practise at least the faith of adherence. That, at least, is in your own power. Cleave to G.o.d exactly as if you were certain of being accepted by Him at last; and thus, fulfilling his own conditions, you will be accepted by Him whether you are a.s.sured of it beforehand or not. "Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out."