ago. Ithink there was some ugly story about his death, though she never speaksof it,' said Nanette. `I fancy he was cruelly treated, and that eventhe Marquis was somewhat ashamed, and the girl was offered a place atthe chateau to save appearances.'
"`I wonder she took it,' said mother Germain.
"`She was starving probably,' said Nanette. `Hunger is a hard master.But I doubt if her feelings to the family are much better than those ofVictorine, only Marguerite says nothing.'
"Suddenly Pierre broke in.
"`Marguerite Ribou--I remember her!' he exclaimed. `Mother, you havenot forgotten my telling you of what I saw at Sarinet?--a young man allfainting and bleeding, and they were _driving_ him--the brutes! And hissister was called Marguerite. Yes, indeed! how could she go to servethem?'
"`It must have been, as I say--she had no choice,' answered Nanette.`And now I think she will stay out of affection for our ladies, who havebeen kind to her from the first. But for them, in that bad Paris, whatwould have become of her, heaven only knows. I must be going, my goodfriends. I promised mother not to be long--my first day at home! But Ishall see you often, for I shall not be more quickly tired of talking ofour ladies than you will be of hearing. The Countess has such trust inyou; she even told me to say to you--' But here again poor Nanettestopped, and the tears filled her eyes. `There is no hurry,' she said;`I will tell you another time.'
"`Nay, my dear,' said Mother Germain, `I would like to hear it now,while her words are fresh in your mind.'
"`It was the day I left. She was very sad; I think she was sorry for meto go, and perhaps there were other causes. "Tell my dear Germains,"she said, "that if anything happens to me--one knows not what it mightbe in these times that are threatening us--there is no one--I have nofriends I trust as I do them, no one to whom I could better confide mychild. Even little Pierre"--my lady does not know how tall you are now,Monsieur Pierre,' said Nanette, with a smile--`"Pierre, I believe, wouldgive his life for Edmee," she said.'
"`And she said true,' said Pierre, his face glowing.
"`Thank you, Mademoiselle Nanette, for telling me her very words.'
"Then at last the girl left them, after reminding them all, Pierreincluded, that she counted upon them as guests at her wedding thefollowing week.
"`She is a good girl,' said Madame Germain, when Nanette had gone; `butthat she always was. She comes of a good stock. Old Ludovic is asfaithful a servant as any one could possibly desire. Nanette hasimproved wonderfully. I used not to think her so intelligent and quickof perception.'
"`It is the society of the Countess that has improved and educated her,'said father Germain, between the puffs of smoke from his pipe, which hewas again enjoying--with, however, a grave, almost uneasy, expression onhis face.
"He said nothing, however, till that evening, when alone with his wife,for he was a man who well considered not only his words, but the besttime at which to utter them.
"`I like not the look of things--over there,' he said, with a jerk ofhis thumb in the direction where Paris was supposed to lie. `I thinkthe girl Nanette is right in her fears. I wish my lady were back amongus.'
"`So indeed do I,' said Madame Germain.
"`There is no use saying much about it before the boy,' resumed herhusband. `He thinks enough of it already. Much more and he would besetting off to Paris to rescue them before one clearly sees the danger.'
"`But we would not stop him,' said his wife.
"`Not if it were to render them real service. I would go myself. Thouknowest that, wife! But we must wait awhile till we see. No usegetting ourselves into trouble without doing them any good.'
"`True,' said Pierre's mother, for she had the greatest respect for herhusband's opinion.
"`At the same time do not mistake me,' he said. `I am more than readyto do any service the Countess could desire. It may be that what shesays is the fact--that she has no friends she can so depend on as uponus. We are plain and simple folk, but we are faithful, and we aregrateful, and the time may come for us to show it.'
"`God grant we may see how to act wisely should it be so,' said his wifefervently. `And God spare my lady and her child for a peaceful life intheir own home.'
"`Amen,' said the forester, no less devoutly than his good wife.
"Nanette's wedding-day arrived, and the ceremony was celebrated with theusual gaieties. According to a special message from Edmee, Pierre, whowas a better scribe than either his father or mother, wrote a fullaccount of it to the Countess in Paris. He was very important over thisletter, which took him quite a week to complete to his satisfaction, andthen he took it to Nanette, now young Madame Delmar, for her approval,which was heartily bestowed.
"`Ah, how pleased Mademoiselle will be to get it,' she said. `I canfancy her reading it aloud to her dear mother, and possibly, if he hasbeen "very good," as Mademoiselle calls it, Monsieur Edmond will beallowed to hear it.'
"Pierre's face darkened.
"`That fellow!' he exclaimed, and he made a movement as if he would tearthe paper. `I won't have him mocking at my letter, Nanette.'
"The young woman looked at him with surprise.
"`No fear,' she said. `You don't think our young lady would allow himor any one to mock at anything to do with her dear Valmont. Besidespoor Monsieur Edmond is not likely to do so. He is much the best ofthem, and he is so ill; they say he cannot live long. I think it ispartly pity for him that keeps our ladies there. I was telling yourgood mother about him the other day, but you were not there, Iremember.'
"Pierre looked a little ashamed of his ebullition.
"`I am sorry,' he said. `I did not know. I thought of him as when Isaw him five years ago.'
"`Ah, yes,' said Nanette; `but since then he is much changed. And heworships the very ground our young lady stands on. No wonder! what_would_ he have been but for her and her mother? For neither his fathernor mother can bear the sight of him.'
"`Poor fellow,' said Pierre. `Then _he_ cannot be much of a protectorto our ladies in case of need.'
"`No indeed,' said Madame Delmar. And from that moment Pierre onlythought of his childish enemy with profound pity."
CHAPTER EIGHT.
"As a rule, news, even of great importance, travelled very slowly inthose days. But not long after the return of Nanette there came toValmont, as to even far remoter corners of France, with a rush like thatof a mighty wind, tidings of the first tremendous outburst of the greatstorm--the assault and taking of the prison of the Bastille by theinfuriated mob. My mother well remembers that day in Paris. The terrorwhich spread through all classes--the strange stories which were afloatabout the wretched prisoners released from the dungeons, where some ofthem had been confined till they had forgotten not only the crime--imaginary in many cases--for which they had been punished, but eventheir own names and histories! The destruction of the terrible Bastillecan never be regretted, but it was accompanied by dreadful deeds. Themurder of the governor and other officers who were but doing their duty;for the people, maddened by hunger as well as by their many wrongs, didnot stop to consider which were the guilty and which the innocent. Ihave said to my mother that from this point I wish she would take thisnarrative into her own hands. It seems to me that as an eye-witness--for in this year 1789, she was an intelligent girl of nearly thirteen--she could describe with much more force and vividness many of the sceneswhich followed. But she begs me to continue as I have begun. The storyconcerns my father quite as much as herself, she says, and she wishes itto be written as much from his recollections, which he has often relatedto me, as from her own. So I must do my best, sadly imperfect though Ifeel it to be.
"The taking of the Bastille was the signal for outrages through manyparts of the country. Chateaux were burnt, convents sacked anddestroyed, many even among the superior farmer class, who had hadnothing to do with the government or the oppression of the poor, whoseonly crime was that through their industry and economy they had grownricher than their neighbours,
suffered as well as their betters. InParis itself many of the most conspicuous among the nobility weredragged by the mob from their houses and put to death in a horrible way,by being hanged on the street lamps. These I have always thought muchmore to be pitied than those later sufferers who perished by the famousguillotine; for this first manner of death united insult to barbarity.
"How it came to pass that my great-uncle, the Marquis de Sarinet, wasnot among those on whom this first fury was wreaked, my mother has oftenfelt at a loss to explain. It may have been that he had never mixedhimself up much with affairs of state--for he was selfish even in this,disliking everything which gave him trouble--and