In the mean while the calamity in which Edmond took a leading part and
too late repented, now burst forth. Cavalier, who this time conducted
every movement of the troops, had so prudently contrived his plans;
valour, and fortune were so favorable to him in their execution, and at
his command on all sides, that the enemy, who thought to have hemmed
him in, saw themselves surrounded. The royalists were forced to give
way, and were decoyed and driven into the narrow valleys, where they
could not employ their strength, the cavalry was cut off, and on
whatever side the soldiers turned, they met with their adversaries, who
fought from the advantageously situated heights.
In the morning, conformably to the arrangement made, the village
procession was put in motion at the festive sound of bells. The church
was beautifully decorated with garlands and flowers; the clerk began to
play the organ, and old and young assembled on the common dressed in
their holiday clothes, in order to join the young girls and follow the
procession into the church. The aged priest was standing already before
the altar, awaiting the congregation, when suddenly a panic seized and
rendered them motionless, for a loud and reiterated firing was
distinctly heard close at hand. "Jesus, Maria!" exclaimed the girls,
and the chains of flowers fell from their arms, the young men spoke of
weapons and defence, and the old looked at one another in alarm. The
firing approached nearer, and the priest and clerk had already quitted
the church. All was in fearful and anxious expectation. Psalm singing
was now heard from over the steep mountain. "They are the Camisards!"
shrieked all aloud and in terror; at the same moment a regiment in
reserve rushed from the left into the valley. The Camisards moved from
above precipitatedly, and jumped and slid down the vineyards, while
they hurled stones and balls among the bewildered, stupified, and
discouraged mass of soldiers. In vain the officers inspirited them,
some fell with their horses, others sought to retreat towards the
outlet of the valley on the right. The procession and the clergy, as
well as the congregation were mingled with the combatants, before they
were yet able to recover their senses. A few only succeeded in flying
to their houses.
"They are beaten!" cried Catinat furiously, who mounted on a great
black horse and roared, "After them! destroy them in the name of the
Lord! and throw fire and sword into these cottages and idolatrous
temples!" Ravanel rode on a small horse at his side and was already
stained with blood, for he was ever foremost in the slaughter. Favart,
Stephen, Anton, and the diminutive Francois had nimbly clambered down
the mountain. Houses were already seen burning in the distance, the cry
of murder from the inhabitants mingled with the rejoicing shouts of the
victors and the clashing of arms. Stephen now attempted to take the
crucifix, which the youthful Caspar, as leader of the procession
carried, but the latter struck him so forcibly on the head with it,
that his fair locks were smeared with blood, and the youth without
drawing another breath, fell to the ground. When Anton, the shoemaker
saw this, he fell furiously upon Caspar: "Tear the cruel idolaters to
pieces!" screamed he, and struck Caspar with his short sword, who was
on the point of using his weapons on the neck, so that in a moment he
was red with a stream of blood. Louison, who saw that her beloved was
lost, uttered a piercing shriek of woe, tore the short, stumpy Anton by
the hair to the ground, and battered his brains out with the bar of the
crucifix, which Caliper had now let fall. A murderous shout of
bloodthirstiness rang fearfully through the troops of exasperated
rebels, and Francois was the first to cut down the beautiful Louison,
whereupon an indiscriminate massacre raged in every cottage, in every
street, upon every little bridge, and in the already burning church, so
that the gurgling brook soon rolled in blood-red waves.
In the meanwhile Edmond stood gloomy and despairingly above on the
steep rock, and saw now distinctly, now obscured by the smoke the
streets and houses of the village beneath him. The smoke now rolled
away, the royalists had all fled, a short cry and wailing, the
inhabitants were all slain, cottages burned right and left, the fire
shone through all the trees, and now the flames arose in the church and
the peaceful dwelling under his feet, which had hospitably sheltered
him that very night, already rolled in columns of smoke, the fire
shortly raised the roof, and below was a universal glow of destruction
and death, reflected in the bloody, splashing brook, all like a fiery
river of hell, where yesterday an Eden had bloomed. The green trees
defended themselves from the fiery streams, but they were compelled to
bend and yield to its force. The glowing waves burst up to the heavens
over the church tower, and as a child, unconsciously smiling, plays
even in death, the clock struck the hour once more, and for the last
time, and then fell with the tower and the beams of the roof with a
loud crash into the abyss of fire and smoke.
Edmond sat down indifferent to all, and incapable of further thought.
After a while he saw a troop of his brethren ascending the heights by
different routes. Bertrand appeared soon afterwards on another road
mounted with several horsemen. "Are you defeated?" asked Edmond, as
they assembled near him. "No," cried Bertrand, "God has given us
compete victory, the valleys are strewed with the bodies of the
royalists; Cavalier has advanced yonder against the fugitives; Roland
has now probably beaten another column, and Solomon their third
division. But, as Cavalier knows, that several horsemen have fled, he
fears they might make a circuit and fall upon him in the rear, we must
therefore still occupy these heights."
Edmond had not the courage to ask what had taken place in the village
below, but Bertrand began of his own accord. "Now, for once, the hard
hearts have been compelled to taste our vengeance, we have at length
washed our hands in their blood. They will fear us, brother; the
trembling of those that have escaped to-day will teach the others to
tremble too. Like destroying angels, Ravanel and Catinat cut their way
through them, where these stand, not one of the enemy expects mercy. I
have now though been enabled to celebrate a great festival, such a
jubilee as I have ever wished for. But many of our brethren, and our
best lie there below. The despairing peasants have armed themselves
almost in greater numbers than the soldiers. Ah! poor Francois, the
child has been torn by the beasts, Anton, and the flute player,
Stephen, have had their beads smashed, one of the villains threw my
brother, when the poor fellow was already wounded, into the fire, even
the wretched clerk was massacred by our Everard, whereupon I pitched
the rogue head over heels directly into a deep well."
"And the aged priest?" asked Edmond, scarcely audible,
"Him," said one of the troop, "I saw for a long while standing with his
prayer-book in the midst of the tumult on the common; right and left
men and women were slain by his side, so that I thought, now, now this
one or that must strike him. But it was as if they did not see him at
all. I afterwards lost sight of him; surely he must be lying there
among the dead bodies. Do you know anything of him, brother
Christophe?"
A wild looking man, spotted with blood, diminutive and black, his whole
face almost overgrown with bristly hair, said grinning: "The old
grey-headed knave is certainly a sorcerer, for when I had already
killed several of the idolaters, and that he still continued to stand
quietly there, and I was vexed that none of my comrades had ever aimed
at him, in my fury I advanced to hew him down; already I raised my arm,
then the spectre looked quite quietly at me, and his old thin lips
smiled at it, almost as if he would have wept, but I tell you, from his
large blue eyes such a spell shot through my eyes into my heart, that
terrified I let foil my arm and was unable to do any thing to the
rascal. A long time after, wishing to rest myself a little, I perceived
him still in his black garments like a dark cloud between the
combatants, wandering through flame and smoke and over the slain,
perfectly collected and as if no one could do him harm. I think he is
gone into the burning church and will probably be burned there."
Edmond awoke from his dreams to life again at this fearful recital.
"Thus, does the guest requite," said he to himself, "the hopeful son of
the friend, of thy youth. Is not that called love for love? Now I am no
longer indebted to thee for thy hospitable reception."
"Hollo! hollo!" shouted Christophe wildly. "Our brethren yonder are
bringing the sacrificing priest of Baal. So much the better, he shall
be slain here before the eyes of the all seeing God."
Edmond cast a withering glance on the wretch, then looked down and
recognised already close beneath him the pastor bound, whom Favart, the
swarthy Eustace and other Camisards were dragging up. "Here we bring
the knave dear brethren," exclaimed Favart, just as they gained a firm
footing on the level rock, and dragged up the old man with cords.
When the exhausted priest was drawn up, he cast such a look of
lassitude, pity, and resignation to the will of heaven on the youth,
that the hair of the latter stood on end with terror. "God greet you
with your booty!" roared he to Favart and Eustace, "but woe to him
among you, who approaches the old man even by a look, for such a one
will I tear with my teeth." Favart and Eustace stepped back, turning
pale, and Edmond loosened himself the cords of the venerable man, then
pressed him in his arms, laid his grey head upon his throbbing breast,
and a convulsive sobbing prevented all utterance and restrained his
tears. "Why," said the aged man, "should I alone remain of all the
rest? the poor shepherd, whose flock they have slaughtered?" "What is
that?" vociferated Christophe, stammering with rage; "will they rob us
of our property that we have purchased with our blood? we have left
gold and silver to be consumed in the burning churches, but the life of
the idolater is our booty. And who will take it from us? A coward, who
without drawing a sword, here safe in the distance, has contemplated
our life endangering labour. Away with that! Apostates are we ourselves
if we bear the like from an idolater, who has not yet abandoned his
former wickedness."
He would have rushed upon the holy man but Edmond intercepted him with
the swiftness of lightning, and threw him with such giant strength upon
the rock that all his limbs rattled, and he remained lying apparently
senseless. Old Favart beheld this with anger, and Eustace, the
charcoal-burner, became wrathful. Bertrand stepped wildly forward, and
a group of clamorous Camisards pressed round Edmond and the priest.
"Who art thou?" exclaimed Favart, "that thou darest play the master
here? Wilt thou act the nobleman here?"--He seized the priest, and
Eustace also laid a hand upon him. Though as Edmond stepped up to them,
Eustace, from old accustomed obedience, let go his hold, and Favart was
torn back by the powerful youth. "Lord, Edmond, Beauvais!" cried the
man, "our king!" They struggled with each other, and Edmond hurled him
down the mountain. "Our brother's neck is broken!" cried they all
wildly together, and rushed upon Edmond with drawn weapons, who in this
moment had been lost, if Abraham Mazel with a fresh troop had not
arrived: Clary, Castanet, Marion, and Vila were among these. Through
respect for Mazel they were quiet, and Edmond was enabled to lay the
affair before the friends. "We would not be cruel towards the
defenceless," said Mazel. Clary remembered Roland's express command to
spare the priest; the eloquent Marion exhorted and persuaded the
grumblers, and it was determined that the priest, while the guides
should clothe themselves in the uniforms of the slaughtered, should be
conducted to Florac, that he might there claim the protection of his
superior. Edmond offered to take this service upon himself, and Eustace
and several of the brethren would accompany him on this expedition.
Conversation and dispute were interrupted, while this scattered and cut
off band advanced, whose union with the defeated soldiers Cavalier
wished to prevent. The few cavalry went to meet them, the infantry
placed themselves in order, and a sanguinary combat began anew on the
height. Mazel led them on, and the bravery of the rebels made the
military, who were already discouraged, give way. Edmond and his
followers were with the young captain and his light horse, who were
exposed at a distance in an obstinate combat. The horse of the young
man was already killed, but he fought intrepidly and indefatigably,
however little he could promise him>self a fortunate issue. Edmond
advanced, and cried out, "Surrender young man; you behave gallantly, it
would grieve me were you killed here uselessly. I promise you
protection and good treatment until you are exchanged for some of ours
taken prisoners."
"Miserable rebel!" exclaimed the captain, "dost thou think, that I would
receive pardon from such a villain as thou? I know thee, Beauvais,
perjurer, apostate; the executioner at Nismes awaits thee already.
Look down into that valley, incendiary, and still speak of good
treatment!"---He looked searchingly at the youth, glanced down on his
sword and fired his pistol at Edmond, it missed, and Edmond at the same
moment shot a ball through his breast, so that he fell dead. The
remainder were killed in the melee, the sergeant, who was still mounted
fled precipitately from the height down the rock, Mazel and his
followers were already far distant pursuing the enemy.
Edmond descended with those who would accompany him. In a vineyard they
enjoyed the repose and frugal fare which could be quickly prepared for
them. The old man was revived by a few drops of wine. "Beauvais, art
thou my son?" began he, as he saw himself alone with Edmond.--"I am
called," said the latter, "after your baptismal name, Edmond; as a
testimony how my father has ever loved you."
"Ah, thou dear friend of my youth," said the old man with a deep sigh,
"why must I become acquainted with thy son under such circumstances? In
this way then have the dreams of thy love, our religious inspirations
been embodied? Thus are our fanatic presentiments fulfilled? To these
murders and burnings, to these horrible cruelties must we awaken and
call our whole youth folly and illusion? Ah! verily poor Louison, thy
love to thy protectress has been badly recompensed. You were right
unfortunate Caspar, that you did not know in what moment and in what
sufferings your happiness would terminate. Now you lie together in a
bloody embrace. Why cannot I say to myself, no, this is but a dream!
Awake thou miserable old man, and find thy commune, thy children, the
former tranquil repose, the sweet peace, and thy beloved church again!
Woe! woe! to ye, ye poor, ye innocent! and threefold woe upon the
wretches who brought this horror into these distant valleys."--He
covered his head, and wept bitterly.
The twilight was extending itself. The pastor wished to visit once more
the ruins of his church, and they descended the mountain. Edmond and
the priest went alone among the fallen walls. All was destroyed
together, the alter only still remained and the statue of the virgin
was blackened, though tolerably preserved. The old man took it down and
buried it at some distance. "Wherefore?" asked Edmond. "Will not the
multitude," said the aged man, "cry out a miracle again, when they find
this statue the only thing still nearly preserved in this heap of
ashes? Who knows what horrible blood-thirstiness may be enflamed by
this accident, what monstrous, insatiable vengeance attached to this
wooden symbol in the name of God, in order to satisfy under pretext of
eternal love, the horrible feeling, which never should be awakened in
the breast of man. No, what may be an innocent amusement in times of
peace and happiness, and serve as an exalting, edifying, pious
institution, often becomes a banner for the human mind if once wild
rebellion has swayed, it followed exultingly by all the horrors of
hell. I should consider myself a murderer, if I did not bury this
protectress to-day, as our neighbours will inter the poor unprotected
to-morrow. Should the Eternal Decree will it otherwise, he will easily
render my trouble unnecessary."
As they again issued from the ruins, they were met by the tall figure
of Lacoste. "Edmond," cried he, "you and your compeers carry on a
damnable trade. I have kept myself concealed the whole day, that I
might not look upon the enormity. The ceremony of your worship is too
severe. Your God is indulgent, for otherwise he would shew himself
somewhat more rigorous in it. I thought I had already experienced every
thing and understood every body; but in my present high school I still
learn many new things."
How astounded were Lacoste and the priest as each found again a friend
of his youth in the other. "You are then that pious, sighing, youth,"
exclaimed Lacoste in amazement, who in the eyes of his Euphemie would
see and find the whole Empyraeum? We now wander afar over the flowers
of your religious elysium. But tread firmly, for these eyes and noses
no longer feel our heels, these faces are only the discarded masks,
which still lie about from yesterday's gala. Yes, these masqueraders
have destroyed much clothing, that can never be mended again, they have
been reduced to tatters at once by extravagant insolence. Aye! aye!
Edmond, your reverend cordelier, his hair is become white since then,
like the yellow flowers of the meadow, which the first blast uproots.
Where is Euphemie? Where Lucy, where our tears and sighs of those days?
You have become a little old man in an instant: and, is it not true,
that those youthful feelings appeal to you even now sometimes, but like
dumb children, with their countenances? Now perform a little bit of a
miracle with your superabundant love, and awaken these dead again which
lie here in our way. But the question is, whether they would thank you
for it, since they have once made a step to the other side, though
rather in a neck-breaking manner; for if examined closely, that so
called life is a cursedly tedious and base affair, and if one is to
expect jokes like these every day, such as have been practised on these
fellows here, then really one must be damnably sunk in bad habits, not
to put an end to this miserable existence by a single gash on the
throat. But thus indeed are we all.
In these conversations they passed the night. The venerable pastor
replied but little. Neither did his exhaustion permit him, which was so
great, that he was often compelled to rest. As the hours passed the
more agitated he became and the more he wished to end quickly his days
in the ruins of his beloved commune, for he did not know why he should
still wish to live. Edmond talked to him filially and affectionately,
as a son, and the old man heartily forgave all the evil that the youth
had drawn upon him, "If I could, only see thy father once more before
my death!" exclaimed he much affected, or--grief did not permit him to
say more, but Edmond guessed what he meant. After they had reposed
several times, with the early dawn they reached a village, which lay
pleasantly among some green trees. They determined on breakfasting
here, in order to be able to continue their way to Florac, Edmond felt
as if his whole life and being would dissolve in dream and mist. As
they arrived before a small house, in the upper story of which some men
appeared, but who quickly drew back at the sight of the regimentals,
Edmond said to himself, "I am on the point of becoming mad, for I now
see the figures of my mind; it was indeed as if I perceived my father
and Christine, and Eveline; and only because I here escort the two
friends of his youth." They were going to inquire for the inn of an old
man, who was gathering herbs in a small garden, when the wife came out
of the house and begged of them to accompany her, since she herself had
business at the inn, and that it was not so easy to find it, because it
lay in another street, and in an out of the way place, where there was
but very little business carried on, and had no communication with any
high road.
With this information, the chatterer accompanied them to the neat
little inn of the place. The people had only just risen, and were
terrified when they saw the soldiers, for since the attack on the not
far distant district, the whole country was filled with terror. Wine,
bread, and warm drink also revived the weary travellers, and Eustace
and Bertrand with some others kept watch, that they might not be
unexpectedly surprised. "Who lives in the upper story of your house?"
inquired Edmond of the old woman.
"Ah! good heavens!" responded she, "they are poor unfortunate people,
whose property the wicked rebels have burnt. A peasant, a poor cousin
of mine, has now fled to me with his daughter and his sister's son, and
who knows whether the flambeau of wrath, with which the Lord of Hosts
in his anger will light us home, is not already on its way to our
little cottage. For where is safety, or security now a days as
formerly? Verily, all is affliction and warfare, and the strangest
fatality drives men here and there, as has happened only in old
marvelous stories, and the troubles only increase, and suspicion
becomes greater. Where one only sees a soldier, one might creep into a
mole's hole, even though one should be of the very best and exact
faith."
"Is your trumpeter not come back yet?"
"He must have clean disappeared," answered the old woman; "but my
foolish husband grieves about the knave, and thinks that some
misfortune must have happened to him in the mountains, because the long
bellows was already old and broken down, and is sometimes troubled with
a bad cough. As if it mattered much about such vagabonds, when so many
respectable people bite the grass, who have more connexion and
authority than the adventurer, who wants to play Moonseignor here."
"Aye, truly," said the landlord, "but how goes it though with the
Catholics, particularly with the poor clergy, as well as with the old,
venerable lord there, who has now fled likewise? Some of them are said
to have already arrived at Florac yesterday. The convents too suffer. A
wayfarer arrived here in the night, who brought intelligence of an
attack on a castle, where several holy women had been on a visit, who
may belong to Nismes or Montpellier. Crosses and misery are in the
whole land. And whence has the misfortune come? Each party lays the
blame on the other."
They set forward again, and those who were placed to keep watch
rejoined the troop. A fiery red had spread itself over the whole
heavens, as far as the eye could reach, when they emerged from the
valley, the sky was illumined with the most singular and varied burning
lights. From a wood, situated on an eminence on the left, rushed an
aged female attendant, and cried, "Oh, God be praised, that I see royal
troops! Help, my good mistress!" she ran back, and led an old nun, who
appeared fainting. They approached, they revived her with wine. When
the priest heard her family name called, he exclaimed, "Euphemie!" and
dropped down before her. It was she, she had escaped with difficulty
with her attendant from the burning castle, where she had passed the
night in the greatest anguish. The old man told her his name. "Hast
thou then at times thought of our youth?" asked he in a trembling
voice, "Can one forget life?" replied the dying Euphemie, with closing
eyes. "And thou, Edmond?"----"I lived for thee, I die with thee," spoke
the aged man, and both expired exhausted by the too strong emotion
caused by finding each other again so wonderfully, while the rays of
morning shone like a glory on their sanctified features.
Carts which came from Florac, and whose owners heard from Edmond the
brief account, conveyed the bodies to the town, that they might be
interred in consecrated ground.
END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
PRINTED BY J. TEUTEN, BOND STREET, CHELSEA.