The Rebellion in the Cevennes, an Historical Novel. Vol. II.

  CHAPTER IV.

  The greatest agitation prevailed in the city of Nismes. New arrests hadtaken place, suspicion had increased still more, and many noblemen, whountil then had escaped observation, were shut up in the prisons. Nocondition, no inhabitant was now deemed in safety, treachery lurked inevery house. The Marshal had brought some of his ci-devant friends,even ladies, to a strict trial.

  The amiable hero was concealed in the severe judge. The Intendant hadnever yet been so pleased with his opponent. The consternation wasstill greater in the country, and those who dwelt in the chateau, nolonger knew how to escape the mistrust and suspicion of the rebellion,particularly the newly converted, whose assurances were not trusted,and whose devotedness and patriotism were no longer valued.

  The physician, Vila, was also obliged to proceed to the city to answernumerous accusations against him. Deeply afflicted as he was, hehowever testified no depression or humiliation before his judges, butwas able to refute with perfect composure all that they would lay tohis charge. The Intendant as well as the Marshal were undecided,whether they ought to impute his self-possession and security toinnocence, or to the obstinacy of a rebel.

  "No, my honoured lords," said he, as he stood before them in the hallsurrounded by a great number of officers and civilians; "I have nothingto do with these most unfortunate affairs, for it is impossible thatany one would lay to my charge as evil propense, that I recentlyintended to cure the Lord Marquis without a wig, an occurrence, whichmay indeed be astonishing enough, but which however does not render theextremity necessary, that you should now immediately cause my head tobe taken off; whereby I should become an entirely useless andslaughtered man."

  "Be serious sir," replied the Intendant in the greatest anger, but witha calm exterior: "what took you to the mountains some time since?wherefore that disguise of which you yourself have complained?"

  "Irrepressible curiosity, my noble Lord," said Vila, "as an inquisitivedoctor, I also wished to thrust my nose for once into these spiritualmonstrosities. In my youth, I knew only of four great and twelve lesserprophets of the bible, the thousand great, and twenty thousand lesserof our times seemed to me so little plausible, that I wished to seesome examples of them in my proximity, and to examine myself theirascribed characters."

  "And you persuaded your son and the young Edmond to accompany youthere?"

  The old man paused a while, and was obliged to wipe his eyes. "Pardon,"said he then, "man is affected, though already old, by certainsensations, a kind of cold, which operates on the tear vessels; perhapsyou may have already experienced this. Strong snuff produces thesensation. Yes, it was I indeed that induced the young men to this folly.I could never have thought that the young lads would have made a seriousaffair of it. They should only have reflected on themselves, collectpsychological observations, to strengthen thereby their own mature wisdomand corroborate all noble religion; and the simpletons act like thatpeasant, who is to take only twelve drops daily from a phial, and wouldrather swallow down the whole bottle with cork and label. But believe methe cholic will not delay coming, and it will require skill to empty thebody of the devilry again."

  "You appear to consider the affair on the jesting side," cried theMarshal.

  "Certainly," said the old man, who could not however restrain histears, and was obliged to repress his sob by a strong effort; "it isstill pleasant enough, that I have not slept since the last three days,still less have I been able to enjoy anything: that my cursedimagination represents my unhappy son upon the scaffold, suffering themost ingenious martyrdom, and looking upon me with the same dark eyesthat sparkled in his childhood when he ardently desired a fruit, or atoy. I believe too that I look rather pale and sorrowful, and whateveryou may ordain, I shall bear my head heavily on my weary shoulders forthe future."

  "You know then that your son as well as the young Edmond has gone overto the rebels?" said the Intendant sharply with his icy coldness: "andwho will assure us that this did not happen by your counsel andsuggestions?"

  "No man will be security for me," answered, the father with quietcomposure, "and of myself, of my many years of probity and anassurance, by my honour, I will not even speak, for that appears tomyself absurd. No, my highly honoured lords, my counsel would neverhave been able to produce so strange a metamorphosis in a vagabond, whohas hitherto only interested himself in plants and antiquities, or tomake of a catholic enthusiast a fanatic and a rebel; but if I may bepermitted to speak for a moment as a father, it rather appears to me,that you, my most worthy judges, are the authors of it, without itsbeing exactly your intention it is true, and may be the cause why somany other fanatics will run to the mountains."

  "Well, this impudence," exclaimed the Marshal.

  "Suffer the unhappy man to speak," interrupted the Intendant, "he isdoting in his sorrow, and it is not unreasonable to hear all that hemay bring forward for his defence." "I only say," continued Vila,"that, with the very best intentions to put down this rebellion, youadd strength to it, for it is precisely the peculiarity and perversityof the human mind, (and in this I only say what has been of very oldstanding) that prohibitions and obstructions irritate and place thepunishable case in a seductive, enchanting light. That, which at firstappeared indifferent and often unimportant, now presents itself with akind of glory, danger entices; if only a few victims deriding it, havefallen, passions master the heart, and the same, who a short timepreviously preserved his faith in silent doubt, feels now in eachemotion of caprice, and of anger, the immediate voice of his persecutedGod. He now refutes his adversary with murder and massacre, as if hewould correct the erroneous reading of his mind in his mangled body.The true believer cannot naturally bear such a turning over the leaf,he waits with stump and stalk to root out of the breast the pervertedand corrupted text. On both sides the commentators excite one another,each becomes fiercer and more violent, reconciliation is no longer tobe thought of, instruction profits not, and whoever wishes to step incoolly and moderately between them is a horror to both parties. You seeindeed all the pills, that you, my honoured Lord Marshal cause to beturned and moulded and which the thousand surgeons press Upon theperverted, have not purged them of the evil, nor even ameliorated it.What does it profit then that the busy men so diligently assist withtheir bayonets, nor do these lances, nor the incisions of the gentlemendragoons improve the blood. Also your imprisonments and executions inthe public places have no success. What can your reasoning, your cold,calm persuasions effect, that the whole country, frankly speaking,stands like a great, disbanded madhouse, where the lunatics with theirdogmas rage against one another, and like dogs, set on to fight, gnashwith their teeth. I think the air is infectuous, and renders insane,and thus it has happened to young Edmond and my poor son. Whom the devilrides, cannot certainly affirm that he possesses an abundance of freewill to go and come; but what could have bribed me to lay the stirrupon the shoulders of my only son, in order that the black raven fatherof all lies might be able to mount him more comfortably? only reflecton that yourselves, generous men."

  "I but half understand you," said the Marshal.

  "I pardon much in consideration of your grief," replied the Intendant.

  "But why as not the Lord of Beauvais appeared at our trial?"recommenced the general; "wherefore is he fled? Does not that actionbespeak him criminal? and do you know anything of him and of hisretreat? can you impart to us some information of his proceedings? doyou keep him concealed? confess the whole truth."

  "Your excellency," said the doctor, "the old sinner has assuredlyescaped because he is indeed suspected, even by me, and certainly couldnot appear here with safety and decency."

  "Proceed," said the Lord of Basville, "you are approaching nearer thepoint to my satisfaction."

  "You know it as well as I do," replied Vila, "the scandal is notoriousthroughout the whole country. He would have been forced to come herebaldheaded to speak and answer. I will even consent that one maydispense with ruffles, lay down his swo
rd, embroidery on the garments,or the cravat may also without herisy be esteemed as superfluous; butif you consider, that for more than ten years, he lived there yonder inhis desert without a wig like a Theban hermit, you cannot then possiblyhave any confidence in the orthodoxy of his sentiments. How should hishead remain sound, when he gives himself up, thus naked to allweathers, all society, all sorts of phrases, wit, and nonsense. It isindeed like a fortress, where they have broken down the walls andredoubt. There, in war, all the rabble ride in without obstruction.""You are childish," said the Lord of Basville, "but where does the Ladyof Castelnau remain, you must know that she has disappeared. In allthese circumstances we see, say what you will, a concerted plot."

  "Ah poor Christine!" sighed Vila plaintively; "I now know for the firsttime, how much I have loved the noble girl. She is no longer indeed inher house, but the Lord Marshal will best be able to give intelligenceof her retreat."

  "I?" demanded the latter.

  "All the world says, at least," continued the doctor, "that you havecaused her to be incarcerated, and that is not entirely withoutprobability, as the imprudent girl, some time ago, wholly lost sight ofthe esteem she owes you."

  "It were derogatory to my dignity," said the Marshal, "to revengeinpertinences by means of my office.

  "Where one cannot inspire love," said the doctor, "which one mayreasonably expect, then terror and the due punishment of the objectmust suffice." "I give you my word of honour, I know nothing of thelittle fool!" said the Marshal blushing.

  "It is very possible," answered Vila, "that you do not know exactly inwhich dungeon she languishes, since within the last few years we haveconsiderably increased these establishments."

  "Sir!" exclaimed the Marshal,--"I think, my Lord Intendant, we maydismiss this dotard, for it is in vain to hope to hear a word of sensefrom him. You may thank the Lord Marquis and his zealous intercession,or rather his caprice, not to suffer himself to be cured by any oneelse, that your insolence, which affects madness, is permitted to gofrom hence unchastised. But beware that you hold no correspondence withthe rebels and suspected persons, or we shall speak again together andthen in a higher tone."

  "As it may please you to order it," said the doctor, and retired with alow bow. His carriage stood at the door, he went however first into thestables of the court to seek an old servant, whom he intended to taketo St. Hypolite with him, the latter advanced groaning, limping andwith head and arm bound up. "Coachman," cried Vila to his driver, "makeroom on the box for this old servant of mine."

  In the mean while Colonel Julien came down the street; "What sort ofmerchandise are you carrying off with you there?" asked he,scrutinising the wounded man.

  "My superannuated Conrad," replied the doctor; "the stupid knave foundhimself in a village yesterday and took it into his head to engage inthe conversion of a Camisard, who in the true rebel fashion began todeal out blows, my decrepid enthusiast would let neither his king, norhis Lord God be outraged and on that account is so bedecked, that ourPhylax at home will scarcely recognise him again." "Look," said theColonel, "the poor cripple trembles so, that he cannot attain the highcoach-box. He does not appear accustomed to such a place. Help him alittle, reverend priest."

  The sturdy vicar of St. Sulpice, who had pressed forward, helped up theold man with arms and shoulders. "Accustomed, or not accustomed!" criedVila, vexedly, "he may thank heaven, that I take him with me at all. Aknave, who at his years still addicts himself to pugilism, is good fornothing in my peaceable house. Times, indeed, seem strange enough, sothat the rabble will soon, perhaps, assert their pretensions to ridewith me in my carriage."

  "You would have room enough," said the Colonel, taking leave of thedoctor, who had already seated himself at his ease.--

  "Now, drive on!" said Vila, "and not too fast, particularly over thestones, for all my sides, and my head into the bargain, are as if theywere crushed, and take care that that old spectre does not perchancetumble from the box,--Adieu, reverend priest!"--The coach drove downthe street and out through the gate.

  The high road was filled with soldiers and militia, the coach wasforced to stop in many places to let the troops go by. At length, whenthey had taken another road towards the mountains, the journey could becontinued without interruption. The doctor was very uneasy, and lookedround on all sides, muttered to himself, and was alternately moved, andvexed. At last, when the country became rather solitary he ordered thecarriage to stop, descended and assisted the wounded Conrad, as he hadcalled him in the town, himself, from the coach box. "My poor, oldfriend!" exclaimed he embracing him with the greatest emotion: "Howfares it with you? do you feel fatigued? come now inside here with me,and pardon all that I have been forced to do for your safety."

  "I am tolerably well, my kind, faithful friend," answered the Lord ofBeauvais: "but render me one more loving service, that we may once morevisit the ruins of my dwelling."

  Vila gave directions to the coachman, and they both ascended into thecarriage.

  "But why will you make your heart still heavier?" commenced the doctor."Come rather directly with me, that I may conduct you to the littlerural asylum, in order to conceal you there until better times. For itis not to be thought of, that they will now be able to carry you overthe frontiers in safety."

  "Oh my poor country!" sighed the Counsellor of Parliament: "men ofprobity must now seek hiding-places like criminals. I will only go oncemore to the great hall: an iron closet has perhaps been spared by therobbers and the flames, in it lies the portrait of my wife, which inthe hurry, I forgot to pack up. It would be very painful to me to losethis dear remembrance." The sun had already set, and they were nowapproaching their native, well-known place. From the blackened walls,dense, smoky clouds were still rising, although the fire appearedextinguished. The carriage stopped, the travellers descended from it; alantern was lighted, and the Counsellor could not avoid wondering atthe difficulty he experienced in finding his way through the formerlyso well-known mansion. Fallen beams reduced to cinders layextinguished, and obstructed the entrance to the hall, ashes andrubbish filled the vast space, it was impossible to recognise anything, the walls alone still indicated the former seat of happiness andpeace. The lantern threw a pale wavering glimmer over the saddestruction, and while the father tremblingly felt about by its lightfor the closet, he thought he heard a voice in another apartment.

  As he listened more attentively, all was still; yet after a shortinterval, a deep, painful sigh was heard again, and then as if from aheavily oppressed bosom resounded these words: "Yes, my sinful fire haslaid this dwelling in ashes, my wicked impetuosity has murdered thehappiness of this beloved house."

  "Oh my unhappy son!" exclaimed the old man as he endeavoured to reachthat apartment; but Edmond advanced immediately, sank down before himand embraced his knees. "Can you forgive? can you still love me?" criedhe in violent emotion; "I, I, wretch that I am, have flung the brandinto this house, I have rendered you and my sister miserable, I amindeed the cause of your death. Oh, most gracious, mildest of men, withwhat a torn heart do I lie here at your feet, unworthy to embrace them,unworthy of the dust.--"

  The old man raised, pressed him to his heart and said: "Not so,my son, we are not to criticise and blame the ways of destiny in soshort-sighted a manner. It was you, as I well know, who delivered mefrom the hands of the incendiaries. Your heart has remained to me;those walls, this inanimate possession belonged not to my happiness andexistence, you are nearer to me, you are, God be praised! not lost tome. Let me enjoy the satisfaction of having found you again among theruins, and I will thank Heaven with heartfelt tears for my calamity.Follow me now and abandon your unfortunate covenant. The time andfavourable moment will be found, when we may fly over the frontiers ofour native land, and under another sky be permitted to rear theblessing of our love again."

  "Only require not this of me, generous man," cried Edmond, as if inunconscious anger: "at least I must punish, avenge, retaliate, in somedegree on our and God's foes. Oh Catinat! how u
njust I have been incensuring thee. No, I will not degrade mercy so far by wasting it onthese wretches, who might take the tiger in apprenticeship in order toaugment his malice and cruelty."

  Vila came up with the lantern and turned the light upon the youth'spale, agitated countenance, saying with the greatest good nature: "ah!Ned! my boy! be advised: now for once only follow your aged parentthere, who has ever merely required from you what is quite reasonable."

  "Leave vengeance to Him," said the father in a powerful voice, "to Him,who rules, permits and superintends all, and in whose almighty arm ourwrath and weakness, are no longer vengeance! I do not understand theword. Our hearts were not created for this feeling."

  "Still and ever the same folly!" cried a deep voice from behind and thegaunt figure of the grey-headed Lacoste was groping his way towardsthem in the dark, over heaps of rubbish. "Vengeance! hatred!" exclaimedhe; "who knows not those sentiments, knows love but in part. Knowestthou me still, thy rival, the Lacoste, whom thou renderedst many yearsago so unhappy? Who meant thee evil were it not for thy gallantEdmond."

  "How comest thou here?" cried the father astounded. "What art thoudoing here?"

  "I am become thy son's dog," replied the former, "I do him what serviceI can, at least I run after him, out of gratitude, because he has savedmy life."

  "I have scarcely time and feeling," said the Lord of Beauvais, "towonder at this extraordinary rencontre."

  "The hour presses indeed," cried Vila, "we have yet a long way beforeus and we must take advantage of the night."

  "Here is the concealed closet still unconsumed," cried the Counsellorof Parliament, "just as I had supposed." He took a key, opened and helda light into it, among various articles, which were kept there, hefound the picture in a little casket. He gazed upon it with tears, andwas going to attach it to his person, when Lacoste seized his hand andsaid: "Only one moment, for the sake of former acquaintance andfriendship: suffer this face after so many years to blossom once againin my desolate heart."

  The father gave it to him trembling; Lacoste held it close to the lightand gazed fixedly on it with his widely opened grey eyes; a tearunconsciously escaped him, he imprinted a kiss on the portrait andreturned it to the Counsellor. "See, see," said he to himself, "everyman remains still a fool, let him behave as he will. If they can feeland imagine as much over their relics, as I at this moment feel, thenthe unfortunate ones are not so entirely in error."

  "Roland is stationed in the neighbourhood with his troops; a few of usmay conduct your dear father, as far as you wish, so that at least ourparty does not harm you."

  "Prudently spoken," said Lacoste, "for we are, with permission, veryoutrageous people."

  The Counsellor of Parliament re-ascended the carriage with his friend,saying: "We are now indeed so far on our road, that the usualprecaution becomes superfluous. Let us only be careful, that our friendVila meets with no misfortune on our account." "Were my son onlyreasonable," said the latter, "they might do what they liked with me,old, half dead and worn out sinner; to die is almost a diversion to besought for, to that have the ruling lords pushed affairs."

  They drove off, and Edmond and Lacoste followed on horseback, in orderto accompany them to Roland's troop.