CHAPTER IV
THE ROAD TO VERSAILLES
At the break of day, rumbling out of the little fishing village, I wassurprised to see both Broussard and Levert astir as early as myself,each in a separate coach, traveling the same direction. I thought itstrange that they chose to go separately, and that neither had told meof his expected journey. However that might be, as it suited mypurpose well to be alone, I disturbed not myself with pondering overit. Yet I wondered somewhat.
The King and Court were at Versailles; so judging to find Serigny thereI turned aside from my first intention and proceeded thither. I wasshocked by the universal desolation of the country through which Ipassed. Was this the reverse side to all the _Grand Monarque's_ glory?I had pictured _la belle_ France as a country of wine, of roses and ofhappy people. These ravaged fields, these squalid dens of misery, thesullen, despairing faces of the peasantry, all bore silent protest tothe extravagances of Versailles. For the wars, the ambition and themistresses of Louis had made of this fair land a desert. Through thedevastated country roamed thousands of starving people, gaunt andhungry as the wild beasts of the forest; they subsisted upon suchberries as they found, but durst not touch a stick of their lord's woodto thaw out their frozen bodies.
Young as I was, and a soldier, the sight of this wide-spread sufferingappalled me, though being no philosopher I reasoned not to the cause.Yet this was the real France, the foundation upon which the King hadreared the splendid structure of his pride.
It was some time during the second day, I think, when we passed a fewscattering hovels which marked the approach to a village where we wereto stop for dinner. At the foot of a little incline the horses shiedviolently, and passed beyond the man's control. My driver endeavoredin vain to quiet them, and then jumped from his box and ran to theirheads. I looked out to see what the matter was, and observing a squadof soldiers, followed by quite a concourse of villagers, I sprang tothe ground.
Down the hill they marched, some ten or fifteen fellows in a dirty halfuniform, I knew not what it was, while straggling out behind themseemed to follow the entire population of the hamlet. The old andgray-haired fathers, the mothers, the stalwart children and toddlingbabies, all came to stand and gape. In the lead there strode a burlyruffian, proud of his low authority, who shouted at intervals:
"So-with-the-H-u-g-u-e-n-o-t-s!"
Behind him skulked four stout varlets, bearing between them a rudeplank, on which was stretched a naked body, the limbs being not yetstiffened in death. I hardly credited my sight. Before they cameabreast of us I inquired of the driver what it all meant. He onlyshrugged his shoulders, "A dead Huguenot, I suppose," and gave his careto the horses. Verily this was past belief.
I placed myself in the road and bade the leader of the processionpause. He stopped, staring stupidly at my dress.
"What is here my good fellow? what crime hath he committed?"
He, like the driver, answered carelessly:
"None; she is a Huguenot."
"_She_," I echoed, and stopped the bearers who laid their ghastlyburden down, having little relish in the task. Yes, it was in verytruth a woman.
"For the sake of decency, comrade, why do you not cover her and giveher Christian burial?"
"It is the law," he replied stolidly.
"Yes, yes, it is the law," eagerly assented the people who gatheredabout the corpse, not as friends, not as mourners, but as spectators ofthe horrid scene. Among them, unrebuked, were many white-facedchildren, half afraid and wholly curious. I looked at them all indisgust. They went their way and came to the outskirts of the village,where they contemptuously tossed the woman from the plank across aditch into the open field. In spite of my loathing I had followed.
I perceived now a feeble old woman hobble up toward the body and trywith loud wailings to make her way through the guard which surroundedit. They shoved her back with their pikes, and finally one of themstruck her for her persistence.
"Pierre, look at her old mother; ah, Holy Virgin, what a stubborn lotare these heretics."
Her mother! Great powers of heaven, could it be possible? Myindignation blazed out against the inhuman guard.
"Why do ye this most un-Christian thing?" and to the crowd:
"Do you call yourselves men to stand by and witness this?"
At my words one sturdy young fellow, of the better, peasant-farmerclass, broke from those who held him and would have thrown himselfunarmed against the mail-clad guard. Many strong arms kept him back.He struggled furiously for a while, then sank in the sheer desperationof exhaustion upon the road. As soon as he was quiet the mob,gathering about the more attractive spectacle, left him quite alone. Iwent up to him, laid my hand upon his shoulder, and spoke to himkindly. He looked up, surprised that one wearing a uniform should showhim human sympathy. He had a good, honest face, blue-eyed and frank,yet such an expression of utter hopelessness as never marred a mortalcountenance. It haunts me to this day.
I was touched by the man's sullen apathy, succeeding so quickly to thedesperate energy I had seen him display, and asked concerning histrouble.
"Oh, God, Monsieur, my wife, Celeste, my young wife! Only a yearmarried, Monsieur." He raised upon his elbow, taking my hand in bothof his, "We tried to go; tried to reach England, America, anywhere butFrance; they brought us back, put us in prison; she died--died,Monsieur, of cruelty and exposure, then they cast her out like someunclean thing; she, so pure, so good. Only look, lying there. HolyMother of Christ, look down upon her."
He turned his gaze to where his wife lay and sprang up.
"She shall not--shall not," and cast himself again towards the guard.A dozen men seized him.
Deeply pained by his misery and the horror of the thing, I made my wayto the front, near where the body lay.
"What is this foul law of which you spoke? Tell me?"
My tone had somewhat of authority and anger in it, so the fellow gaveme civil answer.
"The law buries a Huguenot as you see--such unholy flesh could neversleep in holy earth. The beasts and birds will provide her propersepulcher."
"Nay, but compose her fittingly; here is my cloak."
"It is not the order of the King," he sullenly replied. The brutalthrong again gave assent.
"'Tis not the law, 'tis not the law," and bowed their heads at veryname of law.
I remembered the Governor's errand, and could waste no time in quarrelwhich was not mine, yet willingly would I have cast my cloak about her.I inquired of the man:
"And what is the penalty should the hand of charity take this womanfrom the highway?"
"On pain of death."
"Then death let it be," screamed her husband, and breaking through theline of guard, he threw himself upon his wife, protecting her with hispitying garments.
Whilst I had been talking to the officer, no one observed the man comestealthily to the front, coat in hand, until, seeing his chance, hebroke through their line. But these staunch upholders of the law wouldnot have it so. They tore him viciously away, and I, sickened, turnedfrom a revolting struggle I could do nothing to prevent. All theselong years have not dimmed the memory of that barbarous scene.