When the Corporal and Gabrielle returned to the house, a council was
held. Percenez, Nicholas, and the women sat upon the information given
them by the old soldier.
Percenez was very decided in his opinion. Berthier, he was convinced,
would take immediate measures to preclude Gabrielle from visiting
Versailles.
This opinion was not shared by all the others. Madame Deschwanden
justly argued, that, unless Berthier were a fool, he would know very
well that an attempt at intervention with the queen must fail. 'But
then,' she added, shrugging her shoulders, 'he may be a fool--most men
are fools!'
Percenez with natural good taste said nothing of the Intendant's
pursuit of the girl, and the reason he had formed, on that account, of
desiring to place her in a security from further annoyance, now that
Berthier knew she was in Paris, and was aware, or could inform himself
at any moment, where she was staying.
The corporal rapped on the table.
'Meal-time!' he said. 'We are late; surely we can talk during dinner,
and thus avoid throwing the routine of the evening out of gear.'
'Oh the wooden, clock-work man!' sighed Madame Deschwanden, rising and
retiring in the direction of the kitchen.
During dinner the colporteur turned the conversation; he had formed his
resolution, and he intended to communicate it privately to the corporal.
'And pray,' said Percenez; 'Nicholas, what is that statue you are
engaged upon now? I have observed it becoming every day more distinct
and life-like.'
'It is a S. Généviève,' answered the young man, slightly colouring;
'you know who she was--a shepherd girl.'
'So I have perceived. For whom are you carving it?'
'For S. Étienne du Mont. It has been ordered long, but I felt no
inspiration till of late.'
'Do you carve the figures without copies or models?'
'I generally have a model; my father or Madeleine stands for me, but
they will not suit all subjects.'
'And this S. Généviève?'
The young man became crimson.
'I thought I traced a resemblance,' said Percenez, slyly. 'Have you
persuaded any one else to stand as a model?'
'No,' answered Klaus, looking down, and faltering; 'I am moulding this
figure from an idea in my own mind.'
'I am thankful,' put in Madame Deschwanden, 'that you are at work upon
a French saint. Those German saints are a disgrace to the Kalendar.
I would not say "Bitte für uns" to them to save my life,--fusty,
beer-drinking, tobacco-smoking fellows!'
'My good wife,' said the corporal, solemnly; 'you quite forget that for
a considerable number of years the blessed hermit Nicholas von der Flue
lived without food. The magistrates of the canton, desiring to verify
the fact of his miraculous life, sent officers, who, for the space of a
month, occupied night and day all the avenues of approach to his cell,
in order that no person might bring provisions. The suffragan bishop
of Constance subjected the brother to a similar test; he made him, on
his obedience, eat a little bread, but the food caused the holy brother
such pains that the bishop desisted. The Archduke Sigismund of Austria
sent, for the same purpose, his physician, in order that he might
attentively observe Nicholas during several days and nights. Frederick
III, Emperor of Germany, also appointed delegates to examine him; but
all these expedients served only to confirm the truth. My wife, it is a
slander on the memory of Bruder Klaus to speak of him as----but I will
not repeat the expressions you employed.'
'What does "Bitte für uns" mean?' asked Gabrielle, timidly.
'It means Pray for us,' answered Nicholas, beaming at her across the
table; 'you would not mind calling on a Swiss saint to pray for you, I
hope?'
'Certainly not,' answered Gabrielle; 'the prayers of such a holy man as
the hermit Nicholas must be of great avail.'
'Bruder Klaus was no ordinary saint,' began the corporal; 'and the most
remarkable evidences have been given of the power of his intercession.
The walls of Sachselen church are hung with votive paintings.'
'Have pity on us!' exclaimed Madame Deschwanden, 'and spare us the
catalogue of the Bruder's miracles.'
'Switzerland is especially favoured,' said the soldier. 'It is dotted
all over with places of pilgrimage. Of course you have heard of S.
Meinrad. Ah! he was a great saint. One day he made a fire of icicles,
when he had consumed all his fuel. He preached on the Etzel, that is
a place of great resort, and he founded Einsiedeln. He had two tame
ravens, which fed out of his hand. One winter-day some robbers came
and fell upon the saint, intending to plunder his chapel. When he saw
they were intent on killing him, he lay down between two tapers which
stood on the altar steps, and bade the murderers finish their work. So
they killed him, and the candles lighted of their own accord, and when
people found the body, the tapers were still burning. But do you know
how it was discovered who had killed Meinrad? No! Well, I will inform
you. The ravens flew after the murderers, screaming and pecking at
them; and the folk recognised the saint's birds, and suspecting that
something wrong had taken place, they arrested the men.'
'If you are going to talk of Switzerland, will you be good enough to
let Madeleine and me go?' asked madame.
'By all means,' answered the corporal, rapping on the table.
'Ah!' he continued; 'you should see Maria Sonnenberg! It stands above
the lake Uri, on a precipice, a little white chapel with a red-tiled
roof, and a spirelet--so pretty; and within is the dear Lady who was
found in a rose-bush.'
'So was our Lady of La Couture,' exclaimed Gabrielle.
'The Blessed Virgin of Sonnenberg was discovered by a shepherd-lad. His
sheep strayed--and he followed them, and, lo! there was the beautiful
image in a bush of blushing wild-roses.'
'It was the same exactly with our holy Virgin at my home.'
'How beautiful! Maria sey gelobt!' exclaimed Nicholas, clapping his
hands, as a smile shone from his full honest face; 'you see the Holy
Virgin loves equally our Switzerland and your Normandy.'
'And then,' pursued the corporal, with his usual gravity; 'there is the
Virgin of Sarnen--of the convent there. That is a famous pilgrimage
shrine. It came to pass thus:--One Christmas Eve all the sisters had
gone to midnight mass, and they left one poor nun very sick upon her
pallet in her cell. She was sorely grieved not to be able to assist at
the holy mass, and she prayed with her face towards an image of the
Virgin and Child. And, lo! as she prayed, the Mother raised the sacred
infant, and the Divine Child smiled upon her and gave her the blessing
with his little hand. When the sisters returned from the chapel, they
found the nun in a rapture; and when she had recovered, she told all
that had befallen her. I have seen the very statue----'
'And so have I,' said Nicholas, rubbing his hands.
'Then, again, there is the little chapel of Giswyl. Ah, what a
beautiful spot!' The corporal shut his eyes and was silent for some
moments; then he proceeded:--'Where stands the church of Giswyl now,
was once an ancient castle that looked down upon a small clear lake;
but the water was drawn off by a tunnel in 1761, just about the time
my Nicholas was born, and now I suppose its site is occupied by green
pastures. To the north you see the lovely lake of Sarnen; right and
left are fearful precipices, and at their feet a pleasant meadow-land
dotted over with fruit-trees. If one climbs the rocks by a little path
that threads its way amongst pines and over great fragments of stone,
far up in a lonely spot stands a tiny chapel with a little bell-cot,
all of wood. Inside is a simple altar, and the walls are covered with
votive pictures. Descend a few steps, and under the chapel is a little
cell and a basin of crystal water. How comes the poor little shrine
in that wilderness, far away from men? I will tell you. In 1492, some
thieves broke into the church of Giswyl at night, and stole from it
the pyx containing the Blessed Sacrament. The pyx was of precious
metal, and the men carried it to the spot where the chapel now stands,
then they examined it, and threw the Host upon the grass, after which
they fled towards Pilatus. When the robbery was discovered, all the
country rose, and one of the thieves was caught. He told where the
Sacrament had been cast, and the priest of Giswyl and many of his
people ran into the forest to seek it. As they approached the spot--it
was evening--they saw a beautiful white light streaming between the
pine-boles, and heard strains of enchanting music. They drew nearer,
the music ceased, but there, on the grass, lay the Host, like a fallen
planet illumining the flowers, the fir-boughs and the rocks, with a
wondrous light.'
'Now, corporal,' said Madame Deschwanden, from the window, 'have you
done with your fusty Swiss saints? I don't believe a word about their
miracles.'
'Not believe, madame!' cried the soldier, wheeling his chair round;
'why, my wife, I have seen miracles wrought with my own eyes. When our
Kridli----'
'Kridli! there's a barbarous name!'
'Then let her name be Marguerite, but I must say our Swiss name,
Kridli, is the sweetest; so! when she was a little baby, her eyes were
sore, and inflamed. We took her to the doctor at Stanz, he could do
nothing for her; then we went by boat to Lutzern, and the doctors there
said she must lose her sight; then we took her home to Sachseln, and we
had recourse to the holy Bruder Klaus. We touched her eyes with the hem
of his garment, and on the following day she had perfectly recovered
her sight. In gratitude, we named our next child--this boy here, after
him.'
'Where is Kridli now?' asked Gabrielle. Nicholas, hearing her mention
his sister by her German name, nodded approvingly at her and smiled.
'Kridli is at Lutzern--Lucerne, the French call it,' answered the old
soldier; 'she was a good girl, a sweet, simple girl, as fresh as one
of our wild roses, as good as an angel.' He looked over at Gabrielle;
'sometimes you remind me of dearest Kridli. Poor, gentle Kridli! it
seems to me to be but yesterday that I saw her. She used to have her
hair platted and fastened up behind with broad silver spoons--that is
the fashion in Unterwalden; and with her large white straw hat, she was
enchanting. Poor Kridli!' he wiped his eye. 'Ah! she is happy. She is
in such a pretty place. She lies on the south side of the great church
of S. Leger, which rises with twin taper spires above the lake. There
is a cloister all round the grave-yard, and as you walk in it you look
through windows upon the blue expanse of water and away beyond to the
Engelberg snow-peaks, and on the right stands Pilatus, cutting sharply
against the evening sky. She is happy,' he said, in a low tone to
himself; 'she is at Home, she is in Switzerland;' and then he began to
hum sadly to himself the song, 'Herz, mein Herz.'
'Is it not time for prayers?' asked Madame Deschwanden, snappishly; 'it
is very dark.'
The soldier looked at his watch, started, rapped on the table, and led
the way into Klaus's workshop.
As soon as the ordinary devotions were over, Madame Deschwanden and her
daughter rose. The corporal and his son wheeled round towards the niche
containing the life-sized figure of the hermit of Sachseln, and began
their German orisons to the saints of Switzerland.
Gabrielle hesitated for a moment whether to rise or to remain. Her
heart had softened to the old corporal, and his legends had kindled
devotion towards the wonderful patrons of the Alpine land. She
therefore remained, and directed her eyes towards the grave, sad face
of Bruder Klaus, irradiated by the tiny lamp that hung before it.
In changing his position Nicholas observed the girl; he looked over his
shoulder and nodded, whilst a flash of pleasure lit up his large blue
eyes.
It so happened that on the change in the position of the worshippers,
the son knelt immediately in front of the image of Bruder Klaus, and
that his father was thrown into the background. During the former part
of the prayers, the corporal had occupied the most advanced post,
that nearest the window and the crucifix, but, in turning towards the
hermit, Nicholas was placed in the van. The old soldier, however, still
conducted the worship:--
'Heiliger Meinrad!'
To which, in condescension towards Gabrielle's infirmities, young
Deschwanden responded with emphasis in French:--
'Priez pour nous.'
'Heiliger Gallus!'
'Priez pour nous.'
'Heiliger Beatus!'
'Priez pour nous.'
'Heiliger Moritz und deine Gefährte!'
'Priez pour nous.'
'Heiliger Bonifacius!'
'Priez pour nous.'
'Heiliger Victor!'
'Priez pour nous.'
'Heiliger Bruder Klaus!'
'Priez pour nous.'
'Heiliger Bruder Konrad Scheuber!'
'Priez pour nous.'
'Heilige Verena!'
'Priez pour nous.'
'Heilige Odilia!'
'Priez pour nous.'
An interruption, sudden and extraordinary, broke the litany short off.
Madeleine rushed into the workshop, and whispered--'The police are at
the door; they have come for Gabrielle!'
'Herr Gott!' exclaimed the corporal, starting to his feet; 'what is to
be done?'
'Only one thing,' answered Madeleine, passing Nicholas, and darting
upon the image of Bruder Klaus. 'Remain where you are, Nicholas,
remain, for Heaven's sake.'
She swung the image from its place in the niche.
'Quick! quick, Gabrielle!' she urged; 'come here!' She caught the
frightened girl by the shoulders, and thrust her into the recess lately
occupied by the patron of the Deschwandens, made her stand upon his
pedestal, and said, 'Remain perfectly motionless. Do not move a limb.
Do not look up. Fix your eyes on the floor.' Then, turning to her
brother, she said: 'Pray, pray on in French before your patroness S.
Généviève. Everything depends on you.'
The boy looked wonderingly at her, then at Gabrielle, then upon the
ejected hermit, then at his father.
'Do as she bids you,' said the corporal; 'it is Gabrielle's only
chance.'
The sound of steps was heard on the stairs.
The corporal stalked out, and stood upon the landing. Madame
Deschwanden was before him.
'Ah! Du Pont! are you come at last?' called the little woman. 'You
bad fellow! We waited dinner a full half hour. And now! when all
is over!--But--my faith! it is not Du Pont, but strangers. I am
thunderstruck. But pray come in and take chairs.'
The gendarmes entered the sitting-room, where the relics of the dinner
remained on the table.
'You will allow me to pour you out a glass of wine each, before you
speak,' said madame, not waiting for an answer, but handing each a
tumbler. 'Now, what is it?'
'We have come, with order to bring Mademoiselle André, whom we have
reason to believe is here, before M. Berthier, the Intendant.'
'Mon Dieu!' exclaimed madame, 'how vexing! I have been persuading her
to wait on M. Berthier; she has some request to make of him, I believe,
but I do not know her concerns. Women, however, are wilful. So are men,
too--I have been married twice, and I know them. I have had my share of
experience, and I should say that obstinacy, wilfulness, pigheadedness
are the characteristics of man. But that is neither here nor there.
Take some more wine?--No! Well, the girl would not listen to me. She
has gone off on foot.'
'Gone, madame, where to?'
'Why, to Versailles, on foot, at this time of night. Did you ever hear
anything more absurd, and the country so disturbed? Said I to her, You
cannot walk it--you must know she is quite a stranger in these parts,
and knows no more the way to Versailles than she does to Strasbourg.
If you will wait till to-morrow morning, I told her, I will send Klaus
with you--Klaus is my son--you hear him in his workshop muttering his
prayers. He is a pious fool. But that, again, is neither here nor
there. Well, gentlemen, I said to the girl Gabrielle, If you will go,
stop the night at Sèvres. There is a nice little inn there, the "Golden
Goose,"--do you know it, gentlemen? It is kept by M. Touche Gripé; he
married my cousin, as pretty a girl as you ever set eyes on, but she
has grown fat--and he sells good wine, at moderate rate.'
'Will you be so good, madame, as to let me know when the girl left
here?'
'At five. Curiously enough, I know the time to the minute, for I was
so provoked with her for her obstinacy, that I accompanied her to the
Celestins, scolding and entreating alternately; and when I turned back,
there was a clock in a watchmaker's shop window at the corner struck
the hour. You may have noticed the clock; it is ingenious, there is a
door above it, and a cuckoo comes out and sings. I stood and listened
to the bird. It was droll. The cuckoo threw open its little door, and
walked out, opened its yellow beak, bowed and said, "Cuckoo!" Mon Dieu!
I laughed. It went just so--' she bent her body, opened her mouth, and
called 'Cuckoo!'
It was impossible for the officers to restrain their laughter.
'Well!' continued madame, 'five times did that absurd creature bow and
call. Once more, and I should have died, positively died of laughter.'
'Excuse me, madame,' said one of the gendarmes, 'how was the girl
dressed?'
'She wanted to see the queen,' answered the little lady, 'and nothing
would do for her but to borrow some of Madeleine's smart clothes. She
has dressed herself in a faded rose-coloured silk, and wears a tiny
cap with blue ribands on her head. You cannot mistake the dress. It
was mine in the dear old times when I was a young bride. Ah! those
were times. I made my good man,--I can tell you, he was flesh and
blood, and not wood and clock-work,--I made him buy it for me. Oh!
how I have danced in that pink silk. It is looped at the sides with
rose-coloured bows and some gold thread. When Madeleine,--that is my
daughter,--became old enough to wear it, I made it over to her. And now
that rogue of a Gabrielle André has wheedled her out of it, that she
may appear grand before the queen. My idea is that she will not get
into her majesty's presence. What is your opinion, gentlemen?'
'You must allow us to search the house,' said one of the gendarmes,
looking first at madame, and then at the corporal.
'By all means,' answered the little woman; 'let me show you the way.
Corporal! you need not follow; you can go back to your prayers; I know
that your heart is far away, saying "Bitte für uns" to old fusty,
beer-drinking, snuff-taking, tobacco-smoking, hawking, spitting Bruder
Klaus.' Then, drawing up close to the officers, she said: 'You don't
know what it is to be married to a man who is a Jacquemart. Listen! do
you hear his son? My husband, as you see by his uniform, is a Swiss,
but mind! I am a French woman. Come along, you shall see all!' Then,
throwing open the door of the work-room, she said: 'Pray look in at
that precious boy Klaus at his prayers. He is a carver of saints; and
he is not a poor hand. Some of his images are quite life-like. There
is a S. Christopher; there, in the niche, his patroness, S. Généviève;
there, a snuffy old hermit, Bruder Klaus. But come along, there is
nothing there.'
One of the men, however, remained behind, and looked in every corner,
especially behind the S. Christopher. It never occurred to him to
direct his attention to the S. Généviève, to whom Klaus was addressing
an impassioned prayer:--
'Oh, blessed one! my heart addresses thee; thou alone canst make a poor
disconsolate lad happy. Thou, who hast taken possession of the heart
of thy suppliant, hearken to my prayer. Turn a gracious ear to my
request, heavenly being whom I adore; Angel of Paradise, before whom
I bow, obtain for thy servant that happiness which thou alone canst
grant.'
The search was hurried and superficial, for the man heard madame
ascending the stairs with his companion, rattling away, and making him
burst into a peal of laughter, in which her shrill voice chimed.
The men were shown all over the house, and left it, after renewed
assurances that Gabrielle had taken the road to Versailles, that she
was sure to put up at the 'Golden Goose,' at Sèvres, and that she was
equipped in pink silk, somewhat faded, and a hat with blue ribands.
'Now, then,' said Madame Deschwanden, when she had seen the backs of
the gendarmes, 'I have sent them to the sign of the Goose, indeed.
Nice-looking fellow the taller one, was he not, Madeleine? What superb
moustaches! I could scarce keep my fingers off them. And his eyes!
They were the eyes of a seraph. They were men, too--men of courtesy
and breeding; they saluted me before they left the house, first on one
cheek and then on the other, in the most accomplished manner, and not
on the mouth, as does a German clown. But go! Madeleine, release S.
Généviève, and replace the Bruder. Mon Dieu! I could hardly refrain
my laughter, when I saw our good owl Klaus at his devotions, and
the Bruder standing on one side and staring in his stolid German
fuddle-headedness, unable to make out how he had tumbled out of his
niche, and a woman had got into it.'
'What is to be done?' asked the corporal, running his fingers through
his hair.
'You need not be anxious,' said Percenez; 'I have already resolved to
take Gabrielle to Versailles.'
'But I have told the men--men, indeed! they were angels--that they were
to look for the girl on her way there.'
'We can go in a hackney coach. They will not suspect her of being in
that. To Versailles we must go, and Gabrielle must see the queen at
once, and then return to Bernay.'
'The king and queen are at Marly,' said Madeleine; 'I have ascertained
that to-day. To-morrow is my day for taking bouquets to the royal
family; I shall go to Marly, and Gabrielle can accompany me.'
'To Marly!' exclaimed Percenez; 'that is better still.'
'Well,' exclaimed madame, suddenly turning upon Klaus, 'has S.
Généviève answered your prayers? They were impassioned enough,
especially for a German-Swiss.'