Jacques Bonneval Part 7

CHAPTER VII.

LA CROISSETTE.

How chill and painful was my awaking! The soles of my feet were raw with so much walking after they were blistered, and the inflammation irritated my whole frame, which was likewise stiffened with so much beating. When I opened my eyes, I saw the anxious face of my dear mother, as she examined my wounds, and prepared with light hand to dress them. Nor would anybody have guessed she herself was terribly burnt, had not one of the children, inadvertently running against her, caused a sudden wince, but without any audible expression of pain. The thought of what she was enduring with such stoicism, or rather, let me say, with such Christianity, enabled me, better than any stimulant would have done, to endure without murmuring; and she said to me, with strong approval in her kind eyes, "Your wounds tell me, my poor boy, how much you have to bear; therefore there is no need to cry out. Our light affliction which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."

"Yes, that is true indeed," said my father, "and things might have gone much worse with us."

"Can you say that, my father," said I, "when you have lost all?"

"I have not lost all," replied he. "Before the factory was attacked, I had time to disperse the workmen, dispatch a hasty line to an English correspondent, and secrete certain bills of exchange; so that if we can but find our way to England we shall, indeed, have to begin life again, but with G.o.d's blessing, shall not fare badly. And with that blessing, my son, we shall not fare badly even here."

"No, indeed, father." And as I spoke I looked towards where the lamp-light (for we had no other) fell on the bending head of Madeleine, as she talked in a low voice to the children, and kept them amused.

Not a glimpse of the sun's light could penetrate our refuge, and thus it always seemed night with us when, in fact, it was bright day.

Doubtless this was tedious to all; but no one, even the children, so much as murmured at it, except Gabrielle, who was inexpressibly wearied, and now and then gave a long yawn, which set others yawning, and procured her a good-humored rebuke.

"How long is this to last?" said she.

"Till the dragoons find us out, perhaps," said my father, gravely; which silenced her for a little while.

"Our provisions will not last long," said she presently.

"Then we must procure more," said my mother. "We have enough for the present."

"Yes, we have cheese and wine and flour; but what good is flour unless it is cooked?"

"Do not make mountains of molehills, Gabrielle," said Madeleine, aside; "it is such a bad example for the children."

"Well, but they are not molehills," returned Gabrielle, in rather a lower tone, which, however, we could hear well enough. "I suppose we cannot starve."

"Has your endurance so soon ceased, my dear girl?" said my father.

"Think of the believers of old. They had trials of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover, of bonds and imprisonment. They were stoned; they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword; they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins, being dest.i.tute, afflicted, tormented (of whom the world was not worthy); they wandered in deserts and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth. And yet none of these, though they obtained a good report in G.o.d's own word for their faith, had received the explicit promises through Christ, G.o.d having provided those better things for us; wherefore we surely should be ashamed to show less constancy than they did."

"Oh, of course," said Gabrielle.

"Think of what Jacques is bearing without a murmur," said Madeleine.

"I'm sure he sets an example to us all."

"And as to minding what we eat," said little Charles, "I'm sure I don't mind it a bit. Do I, mamma?"

"Oh, if you are all going to be against me, I shall say no more," said Gabrielle.

"That's right," said my mother. "Put a brave heart on it, my dear; I know you have it in you."

Gabrielle bit her lip, but took out a comb, and began to arrange little Louison's hair. "Now," she whispered, "I'll make you as smart as the young lady we saw with Madame de Lacca.s.sagne;" and in this way she amused herself and the child, talking nonsense with her, and inventing imaginary scenes and people, all in a hushed voice, that my father might not hear.

Suddenly, some one at the entrance of our dungeon wis.h.i.+ng us "Bon jour,"

made us start violently and look towards him in alarm.

"You need not shrink from me," said La Croissette, advancing among us when he had looked around. "I may not be as good as yourselves, or I may be--that's neither here nor there. I'm not quite a bad fellow, I believe, though at times I am driven to keep indifferent company. Still, I am not very fond of those I'm among at present, so I thought I'd look in on you. Your servant, sir," to my father. "A votre service, madame,"

very politely to my mother. "You were not here last night, when your son and that young lady rather unexpectedly looked in on us. To speak the truth, there are reasons why some of us don't relish being looked in on unexpectedly."

"Quite natural," said my father; "no more do we."

"Ah, but you need not be afraid of me," said La Croissette, "I'm no traitor, I! It might be rash, though, to say as much of some of my companions, and therefore I advise you not to be too familiar with them."

"My good friend, we have not the least intention of being so."

"Age is wary, and youth is full of trust," said La Croissette. "Not knowing that you, respected sir, and you, madame, were here to look after the younger persons, I ventured to do so myself, to bid them beware of their neighbors."

"That was very friendly, and I thank you heartily for it," said my father.

"Shall you remain here long?" said La Croissette.

"That depends entirely on circ.u.mstances."

"Doubtless you are hiding from the dragoons."

"Is it necessary to tell you?"

"Why, no; but you might do so without fear. I have no love for them myself, but nothing to fear; I am certainly not a Huguenot; but neither would I betray one. Come, I see you would rather I went away. I am going into town. There is nothing I can do for you, then?"

"Nothing; we thank you very much."

When he was gone, Gabrielle exclaimed, "Now that is what I call an opportunity wasted."

"We must beware, my child, who we trust," said my mother.

"Of course; but he was so evidently a harmless, good sort of man."

"We had no occasion to trouble him."

Gabrielle plainly thought there was a good deal of occasion. Indeed, had she known she was actually doomed to spend a few days in the vaults of Les Arenes, I am persuaded she would have fitted them up with upholstery and eatables, even to pickles and preserves. Meanwhile Madeleine was beguiling the time to the children by setting them easy sums on the wall, scratched with a nail, and drawing pictures for them with the same implement, accompanied with stories, as thus:--"Once on a time there was a poor Christian captive in this very dungeon--here he is (drawing his picture)--sentenced to be thrown to the lions (picture).

Once he had been a little boy like this (picture), fond of playing with other little boys (picture), and ready to carry his mother's pitcher to the well (picture), or sweep her floor (picture), or make himself useful to her in any way whatever. One day,"--and so forth. Gabrielle's fancy was tickled with this, and when Madeleine desisted she continued it, though now and then with a furtive yawn. Meanwhile my father was pondering over the papers he had about him, and sitting immersed in thought, or now and then saying a little to my mother. By-and-by he ventured out a little without quitting the precincts of the amphitheatre, and returned, saying several tramps were loitering about, whose attention it would not be prudent to attract. The day, which seemed the longest I ever knew, at length drew to a close, which we only learnt by my father's watch, for we were out of hearing of the town clocks. He said it would make time pa.s.s less heavily if we divided it methodically, and had our set hours for meals, rest, prayer, and mutual improvement, whether by exhortation, discussion, or general discourse, We followed his lead as well as we could, but our thoughts were chiefly with the outer world.

Just after the women and children had retired for the night to a little inner dungeon, La Croissette once more presented himself uninvited.

"I thought, messieurs, you might like to hear the news of the day,"

said he.

"Most certainly," said my father. "Pray be seated. I wish I had a better seat to offer you. What is stirring?"

"The news, then, is, that Nismes is being converted as fast as possible," said La Croissette. "No persuader, sirs, like fire and sword.

Dragoons are quartered on every Protestant. They are destroying whatever they cannot make booty of. Some are littering their fine black horses with bales of broadcloth, silk, and cotton; others with fine Holland cloths. The common people are being driven to church at the sword's point, and conforming by shoals. The gentry give more trouble, but end by coming round."

"Some may--some weak-hearted persons," said my father, reluctantly.

"Well, they may be weak-hearted; I'm sure I should be, in their place,"

said La Croissette. "In fact, what is it?--a mere form. They just slur over a few words--cross themselves--kiss a relic, or some little matter of that sort. No more is required; the bishop lets them off easy."