THE FEAST OF ST. MAGDALEN.
We looked about us till dinner, and after dinner we looked about us
again; for the women and children seemed as though they would never be
sated with sightseeing; and as for me, I was never sated of going about
with Madeleine. All at once she cried out in a frightened voice, "Where
is Gabrielle?"
We looked about and could see neither her nor Alice; and as it was
nearly the hour they call vesper, though the days were still pretty
long, we were greatly alarmed at their disappearance. Little Louison,
however, plucked my sleeve, and said, "I think they went in there,"
pointing to a church-door; so, although my father specially objected to
my setting foot within a Catholic place of worship, Madeleine and I went
in to look for her sister; but my mother kept the children outside. As
soon as we entered we found ourselves almost in darkness, what little
light there was proceeding from great wax candles; and there was a good
deal of tawdry finery and trumpery all about, and a strong smell of
incense. I was looking about me with curiosity and interest, mixed with
a certain repulsion, when Madeleine, in an eager undertone, exclaimed,
"There she is!" and pressed forward, I close following, to a little
side-altar, where Gabrielle and Alice were listening, with amused
wonder, to a priest, who was telling a group of people about him that
what he was exhibiting to them was one of Mary Magdalen's bones; and
that she and Lazarus, and Martha his sister, had put to sea in an old
boat, and in process of time, after being sorely buffeted by winds and
waves, had been cast ashore at Marseilles, where they preached the
gospel to the natives, and converted them all.
I did not believe one word of this, nor did Madeleine, who drew her
reluctant sister away; and when we got her into the open air, rebuked
her for doing what their father would not approve. Gabrielle looked
inclined to defend herself, and make a joke of it. However, a great bell
began to clang so near us as to drown her voice; people were pushing
past us into church, and we found ourselves going against the stream,
and made the best of our way out of it, and back to our quarters.
My father and M. Bourdinave were standing at the door, conversing with
my uncle, and when they saw us they smiled, and my father said, with
unwonted softness in his tone, "Well, children, are you come back? Have
you enjoyed yourselves?" and looked earnestly at Madeleine, whose eyes
sank under his.
My uncle Nicolas kept a mercer's shop, and his shelves and counters were
now so laden with goods that it was difficult to steer our way through
them to the steep stair which led to the floor above; and that, too, was
converted, for the time, into a kind of warehouse; but above that was
the living-room, and above that, again, numerous bedrooms with sloping
sides, and small windows piercing the steep roof. My aunt Jeanne was
good and hospitable to excess. She would not let M. Bourdinave and his
family return to their lodging till they had supped with her, though
there were other guests; so we were jammed rather closely around the
table with little elbow-room. Then ensued clinking of glasses, clatter
of plates, dishes, knives, forks, the buzzing of many tongues, savory
smells of hot viands, and much helping and pressing of one another; much
talk of the price of silks, velvets, and serges; of the credit of such
and such a house; of the state of trade; of the court; and of the
country. I, wedged between Madeleine and her sister, had the opportunity
of giving her many tender looks, though few words passed between us.
Among the strangers at table was a strangely unpleasant Englishman, who
prefaced every speech with "I want to know--" and would not be satisfied
with a short answer. At length my father mildly said--
"Sir, you seek to know trade secrets. You know there are secrets in all
trades."
"That is precisely why I want to know them," said he, laughing.
"But a good reason why we should not tell them," said my father; who
then turned from him, and addressed some one else. Gabrielle whispered,
"I shall call that man Monsieur I-want-to-know."
"Ah, well, I know already what I chiefly want," pursued the Englishman,
who, had he not been drinking more freely than was good for him, would
probably have been less communicative. "I've been to Italy, and have
seen the Italian machinery for throwing silk, and shall carry back a
pretty good idea of the process."
"That man shall never carry anything back," whispered a
vindictive-looking Italian, whose eyes glittered like fire.
"Hush! he is only an empty boaster."
"We want no empty boasters. We will not let him steal our trade
secrets."
That night, going home to his lodging, the Englishman was set upon by
the Italian, and pricked with his stiletto, narrowly escaping with his
life. He gave him what he called "a good English black-eye," and bawled
loudly for justice. The Italian ran off, and was no more seen; and the
Englishman, whose ugly name was Hogg, talked big about applying to his
ambassador, Sir William Trumbull, but was induced to let the matter
drop. The ambassador shortly had worse things to complain of.
The next day was the Catholic Feast of St. Magdalen, which, though we
Huguenots felt no manner of respect for, we were obliged to conform to
outwardly, by not selling or working in open shops, till the services
of the day were over. We made up to ourselves for it by having a
prayer-service of our own in-doors, followed by a long exposition and
exhortation from a godly minister named Brignolles, who warned us of
times of trial that should soon be revealed, and adjured us to put on
the whole armor of God, that we might be able to withstand in the evil
day, and having done all, to stand. Then, after our mid-day meal, we
went forth to see the show.
This time I had the care of Gabrielle, and wished I had not, for she was
in her giddiest humor, and a young man, whose appearance I did not like,
continually hung about us, and looked attentively at her, which I
resented, but she was evidently pleased with. At length, some waxwork
attracting our notice, a change took place in the disposition of our
party. I shifted the charge of Gabrielle to her father, and got
Madeleine instead. My memories of the rest of the day are more about
Madeleine than anything else.
I remember, though, that we fell in with our neighbors the Lefevres at
a waxwork stall, and while Madeleine and I were admiring some fruit that
exactly imitated nature, little Jules Lefevre stretched out his hand to
touch a little waxen boy with a lamb, saying, "Pretty, pretty!"
"Dear child, you shall have it!" cried a honeyed voice behind; and a
lady nicely dressed put the image into his hand, and stooped down to
kiss him. When Marie Lefevre turned round, and saw what her little boy
held, she looked displeased, and made him lay it on the stall again, for
it was one of those papistical images which we hold in detestation.
At night, when all had dispersed but our own immediate party, there was
a pause, and I saw that the elders had something on their minds that
they were about to unfold. I felt a strange emotion that presaged what
was coming, for not a hint had been dropped.
"Son," said my father--and I looked towards him with awe--"you are now
on the confines of manhood, and it behooves us to consider your future.
At your time of life I was betrothed to your mother, and a share was
promised me of my father's business. What are your own views respecting
your course in life?"
All the elder people fixed their eyes on me with gravity, and Madeleine
afterwards told me her heart stopped beating; while Gabrielle struggled
with a disposition to laugh.
"My views are," returned I, boldly, "to follow my honored father,
step by step, and, his concurrence obtained, to get betrothed as fast
as I can."
"Well said, my boy," said my father, heartily, while every face wore
a broad smile but one, which was mantling with blushes.
"Provided," continued I, "that I may choose the young lady."
"Let us know where your choice will fall," said my father, trying to
keep the corners of his mouth in order, while M. Bourdinave scarcely
suppressed a chuckle.
I stepped across the room, and took Madeleine's hand. "Here is my
choice," said I, "if she will have me. We have known each other from
childhood."
Madeleine instantly snatched her hand away, and covered her face.
However, the next moment her father joined our hands, and gave us his
blessing; and then we were bewildered with congratulations and good
auguries; and Master Brignolles gave us a world of good advice, and
offered a prayer; and my father gave me a ring of betrothal to put on
her finger, and thus we became plighted to one another.
The rest of our stay at Beaucaire passed like a dream, and its
brightness yet remained while we pursued our homeward journey. Madeleine
sat close behind me this time, and on her knee was little Jules Lefevre,
whom we had taken in charge of because his father's wagon was over-full.
He had something clasped tight in his hand, which he unclosed for a
moment at Madeleine's request, and gave her a glimpse of a little "Agnus
Dei," which he said had been given him by "the pretty lady." How or when
she had done so, we never made out. Madeleine tried to get it from him;
but he resisted with all his might, saying it was "his own."
"It must be confessed," said Gabrielle, "that the Catholic churches have
much more in them to attract the eye than our plain temples."
"Who denies it?" said I. "Their appeals are to the outward senses, which
never influence the heart."
"I think my heart would be very much influenced by them," said
Gabrielle, "if I had not been brought up to think them wrong."
"I cannot bear to hear you talk in that way, sister," said Madeleine.
"Pray, do not seem indifferent to the blessings of a purer faith."
Gabrielle pouted, and said, "Indifferent? no; but perhaps if you and I
had been brought up Catholics, we might have been as positive we held
the purer faith as we are now that we are of the Reformed."
"A very good thing, then, that you were not so brought up," said I,
"for then I should not have been betrothed to Madeleine;" and to prevent
her pursuing so unpleasant a subject, I lifted up my voice and sang.
Little Jules presently dropped asleep in Madeleine's arms, and his
little fat fingers unclosing, the dangerous bauble dropped from them,
and, by a dexterous touch of my whip, I flicked it into the road.
By-and-by, awaking, he cried for it, and beat Madeleine with his tiny
fists; nor was pacified till his attention was diverted by an almost
interminable file of mules, with their five or six olive-faced muleteers
in brown jackets and red sashes.