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 V. I
 
 THE CAMISARD.
 
 THE 
 
 C A M I S A II 1) , 
 
 OR, TIIR 
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC 
 
 IX TIIR HE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PUINTKI) I OR GEO. B. >VinTTAKfc:H. 
 AVE-MARIA LANE. 
 
 182.5.
 
 LONDON 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES, 
 
 Northumberland-court.
 
 cm5c 
 
 THE 
 
 CAMISARD; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 ^PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 
 
 00 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 To kinder skies, where gentler mpniiers reign, 
 I turn, and France displays her bright domain ; 
 Gay, sprightly land of mirth and socii'l ease. 
 Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please. 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 On a very fine evening, towards the end 
 of the month of February, in the year 
 17 — , as the peasants of Vallerargues, a 
 village of Lower Languedoc,were engaged 
 on the pubhc walk at their usual diver- 
 sions, a fourgon, the common conveyance 
 of the lower orders in that part of the 
 country, passed through the different 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 4, THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 groups of idlers, and stopped opposite a 
 small cottage at the extremity of the vil- 
 lage, which had been for some months 
 untenanted ; but curiosity, ever on the 
 alert, had already learned that it was let 
 to a lady, who was expected immediately 
 to occupy it. This circumstance, in itself 
 extremely simple, was not sufficient for 
 more than the conversation of one veillee ; 
 various additions were therefore made to 
 the fact. It was naturally concluded that 
 the lady was not very rich, since she put 
 up with a residence that had not proved 
 too splendid for the late village carpenter. 
 Some affirmed that she was flying from a 
 tyrannical husband, and hoped in this ob- 
 scure retreat to elude his pursuit ; some, 
 that she was a widow of rank, but of sin- 
 gular piety, and that the choice of such an 
 bode was the consequence of a vow of 
 mortification ; none, however, expected
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. 3 
 
 her to arrive in such humble style ; and 
 the fourgon in which Madame Durand 
 travelled from the last post town did not 
 withdraw one foot trom the dance, or dis- 
 perse one coterie of chattering females. 
 When she therefore descended from the 
 vehicle, only a few straggling children, 
 easily attracted by the noise of wheels, 
 clung to the garden-gate, and with eager 
 looks watched every thing that passed. 
 
 *' And where, Madame, is this to go, 
 and where is there place for this ?" asked 
 the man who drove die fourgon, as he 
 looked sorrowfully around on the melan- 
 choly-looking rooms. '* It never w^ill do," 
 lie continued: " I always said you never 
 could live in a poor cottage, after being 
 used to so many comforts; and so I told 
 you, Madame, and if you would believe 
 rae you'd have staid where I am sure you 
 might have been as happy as the birds of 
 
 u 2
 
 4 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 the air. Now you've seen for yourself, 
 do, Madame, return with me, for glad I 
 should be to take you back, and overjoyed 
 my poor master to see you.'* 
 
 Madame Durand shook her head, and 
 endeavoured to smile at the desolation 
 that so much chagrined her honest con- 
 ductor. It is certain the place did look 
 very dreary, but she was careful to con- 
 ceal her thoughts from Henri, who in his 
 zeal would not fail to exaggerate all her 
 expressions to him, who for many years 
 smiled only when she was pleased, and 
 considered her comfort as at least equal 
 in importance to the happiness of the rest 
 of the world. 
 
 The cottage, as is common in warm 
 climates, was built with a wooden stair- 
 case and rude gallery on the outside, shel- 
 tered by the eaves of the sloping roof. 
 This was covered by a wide spreading
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANOUEDOC. 5 
 
 vine, which in the season of its beauty 
 doubtless concealed the stained walls and 
 red tiles; but now the young leaves, 
 scarcely beginning to appear, were but a 
 slender ornament, and its bare straggling 
 branches called in vain for the gardener's 
 care. This gallery faced the west ; and 
 as Madame Durand opened the shutters 
 of the upper rooms, the bright beams of 
 the setting sun bursting in with all their 
 splendour, gave an air of cheerfulness to 
 the naked whitewashed wainscot. A little 
 girl, who had brought the keys, followed 
 her in her examinations, and pointed 
 out every convenience, and enlarged 0:1 
 every excellence, with a volubility that 
 was evidently the effort of sincere admi- 
 ration ; for the carpenter's house Iiad al- 
 ways been considered as a specimen of 
 his skill, and had gained him much oc- 
 cupation among that simple people. It 
 
 D S
 
 b THE CaMISARD; or, THE 
 
 was not with equal discretion that she 
 insisted on pointing out the very spot 
 where he had breathed his last in a fit of 
 coughing, brought on by violent passion 
 at the apothecary's declaring his asthma 
 must soon put an end to his life. The 
 child shuddered as she spoke, and crossing 
 herself devoutly, hastened to join her com- 
 panions. 
 
 Meanwhile Henri, having emptied 
 the fourgon, stood with his hat in his 
 hand, unwilling to go, yet unable to 
 think of any excuse for remaining, as 
 the owner of the cart from whom he had 
 hired it at the next town stipulated for 
 its return that night. He placed and re- 
 placed the simple articles of furniture he 
 had brought, rubbed off the dust they had 
 gathered on the road, and seemed deter- 
 mined on being dismissed rather than 
 taking leave. It wa^ painful for Madame
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 7 
 
 Durand to part even with an attached do- 
 mestic, when, after his departure, she 
 should find herself, for the first time in 
 her life, entirely among strangers. Henri 
 Loban was by birth a Swiss — faithful, 
 like all his countrymen — blunt and honest ; 
 and forgetting, in the affection which was 
 the result of many years* service, that 
 his employers were not born in the sight 
 of the Glaciers. It was in the neighbour- 
 hood of his father's cottage that Madame 
 Durand and her brother, then happy in 
 the presence of a much-loved wife, had 
 taken up their abode, when some unhappy 
 circumstances had rendered a residence in 
 France impossible. Henri had served 
 them from the period his age permitted 
 him to be useful ; and the familiarity time 
 had produced, increased by the interest 
 he had often manifested for their dis- 
 tresses, made him participate in all that 
 
 B 4
 
 o THE camisard; or, the 
 
 concerned the family. It was for this 
 reason he had been chosen to accompany 
 Madame Durand, when, after an absence 
 of nearly twenty years, she was led to 
 revisit her native land, in quest of that 
 justice which bigotry and oppression 
 sought to deny her brother, the only being 
 whose interest still bound her to earth. 
 The certainty that he would impatiently 
 reckon the hours till assured of her safe 
 arrival at Vallerargues checked her desire 
 of detaining him till she should be more 
 settled in her new abode; and having 
 written a few lines to remove all appre- 
 hension from his master's mind, slipped 
 some money into his hand, and bade the 
 faithful creature farewell, Henri was 
 about to put it back ; but a sudden recol- 
 lection seemed to strike him that Madame 
 was most likely to know what she could 
 spare, — and how his Janette's eyes would
 
 PROTRSTANTS OF LANGLEDOC. 9 
 
 sparkle at the sight of the gold, — so, 
 deeming it presuming to be more disin- 
 terested than the occasion required, he 
 j irked up his blue smock-frock, to let the 
 money slide into his pocket ; then, taking 
 off his worked scarlet cap, and making a 
 profound bow, extended a hand to Madame 
 Durand with a look of respect that claimed 
 her pardon for the liberty, and wishing 
 her a speedy return to dear Switzerland, 
 with good health and spirits while she 
 was absent, withdrew to hide a tear that 
 was starting in his eye, and cheered him- 
 self for the pain he felt at parting by the 
 loud authoritative cracking of his whip as 
 his fourgon again rattled through the street 
 of the village. 
 
 Madame Durand watched till the last 
 sound died away, and then locking the 
 lower rooms^ the chief of which were a 
 kitchen and carpenter's workshop, slowly
 
 10 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 ascended the stairs, and seated herself at 
 the window facing the west, the prospect 
 from which afforded her just before so 
 much pleasure. But the sun had entirely 
 disappeared behind the hills — the last 
 lingering glow was gone — and a gray 
 twilight already veiled every object. 
 Though the short winter of the South 
 was past, the evenings were yet chilly ; 
 and she wondered that any feeling of 
 gratification could be excited in a place 
 that now appeared so forlorn and dismal. 
 Her ideas gradually became more sad; 
 and lost to the present moment, she was 
 busily retracing former scenes and former 
 pleasures, and clothing them with the 
 gloomy veil that memory too often throws 
 over what is gone for ever, when she was 
 roused from the idle and dangerous em- 
 ployment by the sound of footsteps as- 
 cending the wooden stairs, and a country
 
 PROTESTANTS OE LANGUEDOC. 11 
 
 girl, of about nineteen years of age, 
 entered the room with a low curtsey, 
 after carefully depositing her sabots at 
 the door. She began, in voluble Patois, 
 to address Madame Durand ; and that 
 lady found it so difficult to understand a 
 language from which her ear had been 
 many years estranged, that she scarcely 
 gathered more than the information of her 
 belonging to M. le Pasteur, from whom 
 at length she produced a short but friendly 
 note, stating, that owing to the uncertainty 
 attending the time of her arrival, he had 
 unfortunately been induced to absent him- 
 self and family on some particular busi- 
 ness, but had left orders with Annette, 
 their maid, to pay attention to whatever 
 Madame Durand might immediately re- 
 quire. 
 
 Annette's large sparkling dark eyes 
 alone saved her from being considered 
 
 B G
 
 12 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 absolutely ugly ; but the intelligence of 
 their glances in some measure compen- 
 sated for a snub nose, dark complexion, 
 and mouth of more than correct dimen- 
 sions. Her dress was the costume of the 
 Grisettes, to which class she aimed at 
 belonging, and consisted of a bodice of 
 black velvet with long sleeves, a dark 
 petticoat, and large scarlet apron with 
 pockets and braces : on her head a muslin 
 cap, with lace that might have excited 
 the envy of many a belle, under which 
 the hair was turned up so as to form a 
 high toupee, while a few curls were con- 
 fined on the forehead by a white bandeau 
 trimmed to correspond, and distinguished 
 by the name of a '' sarafrond," or 
 " frontaon." This head-dress was orna- 
 mented by a band and bows of black 
 velvet ; and on Sundays and holidays 
 large gold drop ear-rings, with chains and
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 13 
 
 crosses of the same precious metal, com- 
 pleted the gay attire. 
 
 Annette finding it extremely difficult to 
 learn the stranger's wishes, began to ex- 
 ercise her ingenuity, and wisely consulting 
 her own feelings, perceived that the first 
 requisite in a room that had been some 
 time unoccupied was fire ; so tucking the 
 folds of her apron in its belt, she disap- 
 peared with a smile, saying, *' Tutt' oura 
 revendrai," and in a few minutes returned 
 loaded with dry branches of vine and logs 
 of decayed olive trees, which form the 
 chief fuel of the country, and speedily 
 kindled such a blaze as diffused an ap- 
 pearance of comfort around. A light 
 supper was also soon procured ; and 
 perceiving by Madame Durand's looks 
 that she was pleased with her attentions, 
 she proceeded to arrange the broken table 
 and chairs in the best manner possible.
 
 14 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 prepared a bed which she declared to be 
 fit for the queen, and withdrew with a 
 curtsey still lower than at her entrance, 
 and a kindly " Buon suer, buon suer, 
 Madama." 
 
 Once more left to herself, Madame 
 Durand began strictly to examine her 
 own heart, and to condemn the spirit of 
 listlessness that seemed stealing over her. 
 It is not, she thought, by this indulgence 
 of vain sorrow, that I am to follow the 
 plan I have marked out. It is only by 
 being continually w^atchful that I can take 
 advantage of the opportunities that may 
 favourably occur to advance my design. 
 I must remember, too, that many persons 
 I formerly disregarded, circumstances have 
 now raised into importance, and that when 
 a woman embarks in any business, it is by 
 constant attention, more than authority or 
 force, that she can hope to succeed. I
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC 15 
 
 must for a while forget what I have been ; 
 and not awaken suspicion by an affecta- 
 tion of superiority, that may excite de- 
 ference, but not regard; I must not, she 
 added, smiling, again shiver with cold, in 
 the expectation of some kind sylph or 
 fairy to light my fire. 
 
 While Madame Durand was thus em- 
 ployed in sobering down her ideas to her 
 present situation, and casting away all 
 the tinsel of life as unsuited to a cottage, 
 the whole village had been already ap- 
 prised of her arrival, and many had ex- 
 pressed their wonder and their disappoint- 
 ment. '* But are you sure it's the lady 
 herself?" exclaimed the mothers and elder 
 daughters to the children, who had run 
 back with the intelligence. 
 
 ** Yes, that we are," cried all the little 
 rabble at once, *' don't you think our eyes 
 are clear enough for that?"
 
 16 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 ** And what had she on, my dears 2" 
 said an ancient damsel, who having visited 
 the capital some thirty years ago, still dic- 
 tated fashions at Vallerargues. 
 
 The children were rather puzzled by 
 the question, but one remembered it was 
 something black. 
 
 ** What ! no feathers, no lace, no trim- 
 mings ?" she replied. "Well, then, believe 
 me, it's only the maid ; for you know, as 
 IVe told you all a hundred times, it's 
 dress shows a lady of taste ; take my 
 word for it these children are mistaken. 
 How should they be able to judge who 
 have never been out of their own village." 
 
 ** I wonder," interrupted the woman 
 who let out the chairs at the church, 
 ** whether she is a good Catholic ?'* 
 
 " There is no saying," cried Annette, 
 the Pastor's maid, ** but I know my mas- 
 ter has had a letter about her coming, and
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 17 
 
 now I think of it, I was ordered to be at 
 the carpenter's every evening to wait 
 her arrival; so, good by*e, I shall soon 
 know more than you all." 
 
 So saying she tripped away, and there 
 is no deciding whether curiosity or obe- 
 dience to her master had the greatest 
 weight in inducing her to visit Madame 
 Durand. 
 
 Mademoiselle Leah Coste, the lady we 
 have just mentioned, silently resolved to 
 judge for herself at the first opportunity 
 to what class in society the stranger be- 
 longed. She trusted to her infallible tact, 
 and put off only till the next day, a visit 
 of compUment, fully determined to ex- 
 amine with great attention, and either 
 lavish or restrain her civiUties, as might, 
 after due consideration, appear advisable. 
 
 Desirous as we are of appearing at all 
 times the advocates of the fair sex, it
 
 18 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 would be a most agreeable task to inform 
 our readers, that Mademoiselle Coste was 
 no less eminent for her illustrious birth, 
 than for the gifts of beauty and fortune; 
 but truth compels us to confess, this young 
 lady of fifty was the daughter of an emi- 
 nent dealer in salt and fresh pork, who 
 left the bulk of his property and his stock 
 and experience in trade to his sons, and 
 to his daughter a small sum of ready 
 money, the greater part of which she 
 spent during a winter at Paris, in a ma- 
 trimonial chace of gaiety and folly, and 
 upon the remembrance of which she still 
 contrived to subsist in her native village, 
 as few were so poor as to be beneath her 
 cajoling entreaties for assistance, and few 
 so hardhearted as to refuse what they 
 could spare to one who had seen better 
 days. Meantime, she sat almost con- 
 tinually by a little stove, in a room half
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUBDOC. 19 
 
 darkened, and littered with every thing 
 that could render it untidy and disgust- 
 ing, boiling a pot of bad coffee, though 
 sometimes trusting to chance for the 
 bread that was to be eaten with it, and 
 performing no one office of kindness to 
 her neighbours, except under that head 
 we may class the cutting the gowns and 
 cloaks of the silly village girls, into pom- 
 padones and negliges, such as she had 
 admired in the fashions of her youth, and 
 which said garments, when thus metamor- 
 phosed, were seldom of more utility to 
 their owners, than the five caps which the 
 tailor produced for the Squire of La 
 Mancha's knight out of the piece of cloth 
 given him for coat, doublet, and breeches. 
 A life more useless than that of Leah 
 Coste's can scarcely be imagined,or a dis- 
 position more mischievous ; but her mis- 
 chief resembled that of the gnat, who
 
 20 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 stings with all the fury of a scorpion, but 
 without his power to harm. 
 
 To procure a severe beating to some 
 unfortunate urchin whom she watched into 
 a neighbour's vineyard, to set some nota- 
 ble housewife railing against her heedless 
 maid for not giving her undivided attention 
 to the wheel at which she was spinning 
 near this damsel's window, to cause the 
 master's stick to be laid on the shoulders 
 of the luckless Muleteers or Vinedressers 
 whom she overheard not unfrequently re- 
 laxing from their labours in a little friendly 
 conversation, were her every day ex- 
 ploits. Sometimes servants were dis- 
 charged, lovers parted, the most admired 
 beauties looked upon with scorn, and old 
 friends who had never met but with plea- 
 sure, chilled for a time by mutual but 
 concealed causes of discontent. Yet as 
 the informations giyen by this lady were
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. 21 
 
 under the seal of secrecy, as strict as 
 that of confession, it rarely happened that 
 the truth was discovered, and the au- 
 thoress of the mischief exposed ; and 
 even when this did occur, who among 
 this simple-minded people could follow 
 the windings and turnings by which she 
 slipped away from the accusation, and 
 escaped like the wily snake, from the 
 frozen fingers of the urchin who has 
 caught him. 
 
 The house in which Mademoiselle 
 Coste resided, stood near the summit of 
 the hill on which the village was built. 
 Vallerargues had formerly been a place of 
 some strength and consequence, and in tlie 
 troubles of the country, had presented its 
 embattled walls to its friends and enemies. 
 These, as well as the Castle formerly oc- 
 cupied by its ancient lords, were now 
 partly in ruins, and the time-worn gates,
 
 22 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 of no other use than to amuse the chil- 
 dren who passed their play hours in 
 swinging them to and fro, hung loosely on 
 their mouldering hinges. In consequence 
 however of this circumstance, the cottages 
 were still much compressed within an en- 
 closure, which was rendered sacred by 
 the residence of many generations, and 
 thus was the whole population brought 
 more immediately under the view of this 
 sharp-sighted Argus. 
 
 Without having studied mathematics, 
 which at this period were not deemed an 
 essential in female education, she knew 
 the exact level at which to place the artil- 
 lery of her eyes. Just at a due distance 
 behind the worm-eaten green shutter was 
 her chair set, and there like a skilful en- 
 gineer she watched the enemy through 
 the loopholes, remaining herself in per- 
 fect security within the entrenchment.
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC- 23 
 
 Nor was she destitute of skirmishers, 
 often sent out to procure inteUigcnce. 
 Two or three of the idlest and silliest 
 maid servants in the place found great 
 dehght in entertaining her with the pass- 
 ing occurrences; these she affected to 
 despise, wondering that they could think 
 her interested in such low gossip ; but 
 scarcely had she hurried them away, than 
 her lean throat was stretched out to its 
 utmost length, to obtain a more perfect 
 view than the aforesaid loopholes could 
 afford, and it was in this attitude, a snuffy 
 handkerchief spread on her knees, the 
 ready pinch between her finger and 
 thumb, her greasy coiffe scarcely cover- 
 ing her still more greasy locks, an old 
 cloak of coloured calico flung round her 
 shoulders, and her feet slipped into a 
 pair of dirty sabots, overstockings which 
 called in vain for the service of the needle.
 
 24 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 that Leah Coste the following morning 
 saw Monsieur le Pasteur leave his own 
 house, to which he had returned late the 
 preceding night, walking, as was his cus- 
 tom when much engaged in thought, 
 with his hands crossed behind his back, 
 his cane under his arm, and his hat 
 slouched over his eyes, and proceed, 
 without even noticing the salutations of 
 the individuals of the flock whose doors 
 he passed, to the cottage now occupied by 
 Madame Durand. Here was a subject 
 for meditation to Mademoiselle Coste, if 
 meditation that can be called, which con- 
 sisted of a medley of reverie and solilo- 
 quy, not however sufficiently audible to 
 be intelligible to those who might be near: 
 she had already projected her visit, and 
 this was an opportunity not to be resisted 
 of at least enjoying the pleasure of inter- 
 rupting a conversation that might possibly
 
 PROTF.STAN rs OK I.ANfiUEDOC. 25 
 
 be interesting. Concealing, therefore, as 
 much of her untidiness as her slender 
 wardrobe ^\•T)ukl permit, she sallied forth 
 in pursuit of the Pastor, who, had he 
 been aware of her intention, would doubt- 
 less have turned his steps another way, 
 and forgone any pleasure that was to be 
 accompanied with such a drawback. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 8S THE CAMISA.ED; OR, THE 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Whatever farce the boastful tyrant plays, 
 Virtue alone has majesty in death, 
 And greater still the more the tyrant frowns. 
 
 Young. 
 
 Monsieur la Porte, who was now peace- 
 ably permitted to exercise the pastoral 
 office over the Protestants of Vallerargues, 
 had been educated in the severe school of 
 adversity, a bitter, though a sure instruc- 
 tress. His life had resembled one of 
 those stormy autumnal days in which, 
 though the tempest is lulled as evening 
 advances, yet the setting sun gleams 
 faintly on the ground that is covered with 
 the wrecks of its violence. 
 
 His father had exercised the same
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 27 
 
 sacred duties during a period when reli- 
 gious bigotry would scarcely allow the 
 French Protestant the quiet possession of 
 the wide desert for a temple, and for a 
 call to worship, the howling of wolves and 
 the screams of birds of prey. The cer- 
 tainty that he was signing his own death- 
 warrant, while performing his important 
 functions in defiance of edicts and sta- 
 tutes, caused no hesitation in the firm 
 soul of this man of Gocl, but, on the con- 
 trary, served rather to animate a zeal 
 which had so short a day to work in. 
 
 Wherever he could assemble a congre- 
 gation, his solemn yet beseeching voice 
 was heard, exhorting, counseUing, and 
 comforting ; wherever death claimed his 
 })rey, he was near at hand, to point the 
 sinking soul to that Cross where alone 
 tiie moiisicr can be disarmed of his sting, 
 and to console the alHicted mourners with 
 
 c 2
 
 28 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 the assured hope of Redemption by- 
 Christ. As a pilgrim on earth, he wan- 
 'dered incessantly amongst the steep fast- 
 nesses of the country, making the abodes 
 of sorrow his home, yet, at the same time, 
 careful not to give any pretext for perse- 
 cution by attracting the notice of his 
 enemies. Was it possible for such a man 
 to have enemies ? Vain question ! since 
 darkness will always be opposed to Hght. 
 The rigorous edict of 1724, which de- 
 nounced the pains of death equally on 
 those ministers who continued to reside 
 and hold assemblies in the country, and 
 those who attempted to leave it, had not 
 long been promulgated, and the fiend of 
 persecution often vindicated her privilege 
 by the immolation of some illustrious 
 victim. Whom could she fix on whose 
 death would be more likely than that of 
 La Porte to spread desolation around?
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 2^> 
 
 Whose loss would probably occasion such 
 a relaxation of discipline, such an overflow 
 of grief, such a spread of ignorance, and 
 torpor of indifference ? His friends urged 
 him to fly ; but it was dangerous to seek 
 flight in company with his wife and 
 child, and to La Porte impossible without 
 them. 
 
 To cease from his duties, or feign com- 
 pliance with the reigning superstitions, 
 was still more so : one only way re- 
 mained, and the champion of the Faith 
 pursued it as a Christian and a man. 
 Certain that in the event of his death his 
 son would be torn from the guardianship 
 of his mother, and placed in the hands of 
 Roman Catholic instructors, his first care 
 was to have him conveyed, in company 
 with some other refugees, to Geneva, 
 whither he vainly entreated the partner of 
 all his joys and iiillictions to seek also 
 
 C 3
 
 30 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 a safe asylum. No ! in the desert where 
 in secrecy and apprehension the solemn 
 vow had been pronounced which united 
 them for time and for eternity, and where 
 was now their last refuge, she determined 
 to await whatever might befall, well 
 aware that if to see him she loved and 
 revered torn mercilessly from her was to 
 be her fate, it was near him only that she 
 could feel the force to sustain the blow. 
 
 Many weeks elapsed between the first 
 alarm being given and the hand of power 
 extending itself over its destined victim. 
 This brief space La Porte employed in 
 strengthening the faith, and brightening 
 the hopes of those who still continued to 
 follow him wherever he was obliged to 
 wander. " Consider, my brethren,'' he 
 would often say, '' what is about to happen 
 to me, as the immediate dispensation of 
 our Heavenly Father. If he sent severe
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LAXGUEDOC. 31 
 
 sickness to summon me hence, I know 
 you would grieve, for you love me, but 
 you would not murmur ; and can you not 
 look beyond the arm of man — can you 
 not sec that the sword he wields is as 
 much under the command of Almighty 
 power, as the pestilence that walketh in 
 darkness ? You believe that the very 
 hairs of our heads are all numbered ; and 
 can you ascribe such importance to the 
 designs of your fellow-mortals, as to sus- 
 pect that their weak vengeance can stop 
 for a moment the workings of this ever- 
 watchful Providence. Rather lament for 
 them than for me ; pity them even for the 
 power which is delegated to them for a 
 season, since for all these things there is 
 a reckoning to be made ; and let us pray, 
 not that the will of the Lord be left un- 
 done, but that he will have mercy on those 
 who arc blindly working what will bring 
 
 C 4
 
 32 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 down destruction on themselves. Yes ! 
 while we acknowledge how much we stand 
 in need of chastening, let us pray for our 
 persecutors." 
 
 Touched by his example and his words, 
 the whole assembly knelt around him ; 
 and it was in this attitude, with his hands 
 clasped, his eyes streaming with tears of 
 love and compassion, and his voice utter- 
 ing the words of supplication, that La 
 Porte was seized by the military, and 
 conveyed, amidst the sighs and groans of 
 his afflicted people, to Montpellier, accom- 
 panied by one who knew no other path 
 in this world but to follow his footsteps. 
 
 His trial was short, as he had been 
 taken in the very act of rebellion, and his 
 execution immediately followed. At the 
 foot of the scaffold a female was observed, 
 her tearless eyes fixed on what was pass- 
 ing, but with such inexpressible agony
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 33 
 
 in her countenance as drew the attention 
 even of the pretended ministers of justice. 
 
 *' What are you doing here," cried a 
 Serjeant who was bustling to and fro to 
 restrain the impatience of the mob — *' you 
 belong to these vile fanatics tco, I sup- 
 pose ? Come, let's have a little of your 
 psalmody." 
 
 *' I am his wife," she replied, in a voice 
 scarcely audible. The answer silenced 
 all who overheard it ; and a benevolent 
 sister of charity considering only her af- 
 fliction, led her into the hospital, where 
 she lived but till the sound of the drums 
 and the rush of people returning through 
 the streets announced that all was over ! 
 
 The young La Porte heard of the fate 
 of his parents with deeper and more last- 
 ing sorrow than is usually felt at his age. 
 He was received at Geneva by an old 
 friend of his father's ; but the parental 
 
 C 5
 
 34 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 love he had enjoyed for ten years of his 
 life could not be made up to him, even 
 had his new guardian united more of 
 Christian charity to his Christian zeal. 
 
 This man was an elder of the Genevan 
 church, protecting and assisting his perse- 
 cuted brethren from principle, and afford- 
 ing a strong proof of the power of Chris- 
 tianity, even in bending the most stubborn 
 wills ; as he was so devoid of natural 
 feeling, that if he had not been a Christian, 
 he must have been a Misanthrope. But 
 to a boy of warm feelings this want of ten- 
 derness was a severe trial ; and while he 
 expressed and felt himself grateful, his 
 gratitude was the effort of duty, not the 
 spontaneous tribute of the heart. 
 
 No allowances were made by his 
 guardian for youth — none for natural dis- 
 position. The Genevan elder seldom 
 wasted time in minute inquiry : he drew
 
 PROTISTANTS OF LANGDEDOC 35 
 
 a perfectly straight line of duty, on each 
 side of which lay a host of pains and pe- 
 nalties that seized on the luckless wight 
 who might chance, from whatever tempta- 
 tion, to transgress. He treated those 
 under his control as he did his time-pieces 
 (for he was a watchmaker of some skill), 
 and could no more tolerate an error in the 
 conduct of the one than in the machinery 
 of the other ; forgetting that man's actions 
 do not move upon wheels and pivots, and 
 that his virtues are not the result of mere 
 instinct, but the effect of much exertion, 
 and of many humbling false steps. Be- 
 sides this, it was now so common in 
 Geneva to meet with refugee orphans 
 and pennyless confessors of the Faith, that 
 the sympathy which (to our shame be it 
 spoken) novelty so powerfully excites 
 was becoming cold ; and after those who 
 heard of La Porte's misfortunes had dc- 
 
 c G
 
 36 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 clared it was very sad indeed, they con- 
 tented themselves with hoping he was 
 properly grateful for the good fortune he 
 had met with — that he would be docile, 
 work hard, and not burden his kind bene- 
 factor longer than necessity compelled 
 him. 
 
 In youth such an incentive to diligence 
 is not very powerful, because the young 
 mind rarely feels the weight of dependence, 
 or has a more exalted idea of indepen- 
 dence, than that it consists in liberty to 
 follow one's own devices. However, La 
 Porte amply fulfilled their directions, and 
 studied school divinity and logic at the 
 college with a diligence that excited great 
 admiration in the Consistory, who failed 
 not to prognosticate his future eminence 
 as a scholar. How far he was stimulated 
 to exertion by the hope of being able to 
 provide, at some future period, for the
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDCC. 37 
 
 daughter of his friend, the watchmaker, 
 from whose eyes he had learnt another 
 lesson than those taught by the Professor's, 
 we do not pretend to say ; but after a 
 courtship suited in length to the lives of 
 the patriarchs, and which the wortliy 
 father required to accustom himself to the 
 idea of a marriage in the family, they were 
 happily united ; and giving up all other 
 prospects, at the call of many who had 
 known and valued his father, La Porte 
 returned to his native country under some- 
 what happier auspices ; for tliough the 
 Protestants had as yet no legal right to 
 inhale the breath of heaven, the spirit of 
 persecution slumbered, and the gradual 
 spread of more liberal ideas was preparing 
 the minds of men to acknowledge the tics 
 of brotherhood, amidst all the distinctions 
 of sect and party. 
 
 The disposition with which he set out
 
 38 THE camisakd; or, the 
 
 in life exhibited a strange mixture of the 
 warmth and tenderness he had received 
 as a paternal inheritance, choked by the 
 effects of an education in bondage, yet 
 marked by a principle of true piety, de- 
 rived from a higher source than the starts 
 of natural feeling or the doctrinal lore con- 
 veyed by human teachers. Hence he 
 sympathised with those who suffered, 
 as having himself been a sufferer ; and 
 when the vicious called for his pastoral 
 rebukes, as a man, he reproved with pain, 
 though as the shepherd of the flock he did 
 it with firmness : but if a decline from dis- 
 cipline, however slight, and too frequent 
 during those days of relaxation, or an 
 opinion broached in conversation ap- 
 proached within the verge of heterodoxy, 
 then he prepared himself for the contest ; 
 his lips were compressed — his chin, his 
 eye-brows knit, — and the village pastor
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. 39 
 
 seemed for a time to be transformed into 
 a combatant in the arena of theological 
 controversy. 
 
 Controversy was however a rare treat 
 to M. la Porte. His wife and daughter 
 had been convinced over and over again ; 
 and seldom could his utmost address pro- 
 voke them to utter a dissenting word, 
 except, indeed, when he threw out a doubt 
 of the clearness of his honoured father-in- 
 law's views on certain points, which never 
 failed to draw from Madame la Porte 
 who had been educated in Spartan sub- 
 mission to her parents, a hint that it was 
 a bad sign when scholars set themselves 
 up for being wiser than their masters. 
 
 It is not material to add that his income 
 was small : had it been larger, the surplus 
 would only have enriched the poor. Rigid 
 economy was a pleasure to the wife, a 
 duty to the daughter, and a habit with the
 
 40 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 husband, who would no more have thought 
 of buying a new coat because the old was 
 shabby, than he would have thought of 
 discarding an old servant on account of 
 his grey hairs. 
 
 Such was the man conversing with Ma- 
 demoiselle Durand, when Mademoiselle 
 Coste, in fulfilment of her abovementioned 
 scheme, stole softly up the stairs, and with 
 gentle footstep approached the apartment 
 where they sat. But whether her usual 
 acuteness was at fault, or that the lady 
 and the Pastor were well practised in the 
 arts of deception, it is certain their coun- 
 tenances betrayed no embarrassment at 
 her abrupt knock, nor indeed could the 
 subject of their conversation, which 
 turned on a female servant Madame la 
 Porte had recommended, afford much gra- 
 tification to her curiosity ; the important 
 point was discussed and happily settled
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 41 
 
 before Mademoiselle Coste had time to 
 relate all she knew that was reprehensible 
 in the girl's character, and Madame Du- 
 rand after such civilities to her new guest 
 as politeness required, proceeded to make 
 some inquiries respecting the state of the 
 village. 
 
 •* It is not very flourishing, I grieve to 
 say," replied Mons. la Porte, *' since 
 the loss of our late Seigneur, and that 
 indeed is a loss ; some fatality seems 
 to have attended us, and between sickness 
 and want of employment, I hardly think. 
 Madam, you will fmd more distress in 
 any part of the province." 
 
 " You are always bringing up your 
 late lord, Mons. la Porte," said Made- 
 moiselle Coste, " and it is very easy for 
 you to praise him, for the good man has 
 been gone so long it's quite out of my 
 power to contradict you ; but I am si^re
 
 42 THE CAMISARD; OR, THE 
 
 it's a bad compliment to the present lord, 
 who^ though he may not be quite so fa- 
 vourable to your party as you could 
 desire, is possessed of as many virtues 
 as will make a saint of him after his 
 death." 
 
 " My good Madam/' replied La Porte, 
 *' comparisons are never pleasant, and as 
 to the intolerance of the Prior of St. Hoc 
 which you speak of, far be it from me, to 
 judge whether it proceed from mistaken 
 though honest zeal, or be the effect of 
 blind prejudice and active malice. The 
 Searcher of hearts can alone decide ; but 
 surely you will agree with me in saying, 
 much misery meets us at every step ; and 
 perhaps you will give me credit when I 
 assure you, it could not exist under the 
 Baron de Courcy, who living on the spot 
 made it his business to search out and 
 prevent any distress that the hand or
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 43 
 
 heart of man could relieve. It must of 
 course be different when only a deputy- 
 resides among us." 
 
 " Some people," said Mademoiselle 
 Coste, with an indignant toss of the head, 
 " see every thing with a jaundiced eye; 
 but no later than yesterday my cousin, 
 jNIons. Vidal, declared to me, that if the 
 poor complained, it was only because 
 they had a habit of it, and that they were 
 too well fed and treated for their con- 
 dition." 
 
 " That must indeed be a wretched 
 state," replied La Porte, " that makes 
 complaint habitual with a class of men 
 whose spirits are so proverbially elastic, 
 and who, like children, forget their sor- 
 rows as soon as they are past. But I 
 will not dispute the point with a person, 
 who must be so well informed as Mons. 
 Vidal on the subject, at least if we may
 
 44 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 judge by the number of supplicants al- 
 ways surrounding his door." 
 
 '' My cousin," replied Mademoiselle 
 Coste, laying great emphasis on the word, 
 "is indeed overburdened with his charity." 
 
 " It is a load," said La Porte, smiling, 
 " that we can easily get rid of by dis- 
 pensing it to others/^ 
 
 '* Is the Vidal you speak of, a native 
 of this place ?" asked Madame Durand. 
 
 " Of that I am not certain," replied he, 
 " but my neighbour can inform you better. 
 He was formerly much in the confidence 
 of the Baron de Courcy, and is now, I 
 believe, still more so, in that of the Prior, 
 his brother-in-law. Some men are so 
 fortunate as to be thus able to disengage 
 themselves when all sinks around them, 
 and seem to have a sort of instinct in 
 judging of a falling house." 
 
 Madame Durand seemed much struck
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEWOC. 45 
 
 with what he said, but Mademoiselle 
 Coste, engrossed with her anger against 
 the Pastor, who often expressed his dis- 
 like to Vidal with too little circumspec- 
 tion, now commenced a justification of 
 her cousin's conduct, with an eagerness 
 which he would have been the first to cen- 
 sure as indiscreet, so well are persons of 
 his description aware that silence is ge- 
 nerally the best policy. Mons. la Porte had 
 heard her reasonings too often to be much 
 moved by them, and the enraged damsel 
 finding how little impression she made on 
 either of her auditors, soon withdrew, 
 with the kind intention of repeating this 
 just attack, to incense Vidal's mind 
 against the Pastor. 
 
 *' You never mentioned in your letters, 
 my good friend," said Madame Durand, 
 as soon as she perceived that Mademoi- 
 selle Coste was quite out of hearing.
 
 46 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 " that this wretch was now triumphing in 
 the fruits of that villany which ought to 
 have brought him to ruin." 
 
 "It was useless," replied La Porte, 
 " for though I knew him thoroughly and 
 could unmask many of his deeds of black- 
 ness, yet those who upheld him are not 
 less well informed than I am, and yet do 
 not withdraw their support. I should 
 merely have occasioned you useless 
 pain.'* 
 
 " And would it be impossible to move 
 him?" said Madame Durand ; " is there 
 no hope of bringing him at least to confess 
 what became of that dear child, whose 
 disappearance has always seemed sa 
 mysterious V 
 
 ''Impossible!" cried La Porte, "he is 
 dead to every feeling, and acknowledges 
 no influence but that of ambition and 
 avarice, which will rule him to his death-
 
 PROTESTANTS OT? T>ANGUKDOC. 47 
 
 bed — he is already sold to the highest bid- 
 der. On the day that the death of the 
 young Bann was publicly announced, I 
 met Vidal. We had seldom spoke, but he 
 then came up to me with an eagerness 
 that appeared extraordinary, relating 
 many particulars by way of authenticating 
 his decease, and boasting of the honour 
 the Prior had conferred in appointing him 
 to superintend the obsequies, which, on 
 account of the infant's dying out of the 
 pale of the church, were to be performed 
 with privacy. The body was laid in the 
 vault of the chapel of St. Roc. I won- 
 dered much at these explications, as I was 
 then almost a stranger to him, but no sus- 
 picion entered my mind until the vague 
 rumours were set afloat, which I men- 
 tioned to the Baron in several of my late 
 letters. Since that I have conquered my 
 repugnance so far as to question him ro-
 
 48 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 specting them, but he treats them with 
 contempt, and turns off the discourse 
 abruptly ; which I should rather fear, pro- 
 ceeds from his unwillingness to be re- 
 minded of the reason he has for knowing 
 them to be false. From the period of 
 the child's death, I have never been able 
 to meet with his nurse, or her reverend 
 father ; but their departure from their for- 
 mer abode is, you know, Madam, easily 
 accounted for by their own misfortunes. 
 Mons. Vidal has been lately raised to 
 the office of Consul in this village, and is 
 a ready tool in the hand of power ; but it 
 is whispered that he seeks by his complai- 
 sance a higher reward, and that notwith- 
 standing an affectation of disdain for those 
 around them, he would not be sorry to 
 find himself removed far from a scene 
 where he is so well known." 
 " May his wish be soon accomplished,"
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LAVGUEDOC. 49 
 
 said Madame Durand : "it sometimes 
 ma.kes the heart sink to see how firmly 
 they seem to stand whose foundation is 
 laid in oppression, and how long their day 
 lasts." 
 
 *' We cannot call it long, my dear 
 Madam," replied La Porte ; **the true 
 duration of time is not known till we look 
 back upon it ; it is then only our years 
 lose that fictitious extent which impatience 
 or hope always give to them. This man's 
 career will appear short indeed to him 
 when all his crimes are crowded at once 
 into his remembrance, and the vengeance 
 which seems now to tarry, descends with 
 the swiftness of the thunderbolt." 
 
 Madame Durand acquiesced in his sen- 
 timents, and after inquiring some further 
 particulars of the Consul's conduct which 
 filled her with horror, Mchis. la Porte 
 took his leave, with a promise of returning 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 with his wife and daughter as soon as 
 they should be recovered from the fatigues 
 of their journey. 
 
 Meanwhile the indefatigable Leah 
 Coste hurried along to her cousin's house, 
 equally regardless of the sly looks of those 
 who guessed her destination, and the re- 
 ception which at that busy hour of the 
 day she might possibly meet with. The 
 office of Consul of the village, answering 
 to that of Mayor, (the title at present ia 
 use,) did not demand from its possessors, 
 much parade or pomp of appearance, or 
 the least change in their habits of life.. 
 Though sometimes exercised by persons 
 of high respectability, and some rank in 
 society, occasional recourse was had in 
 an emergency to those, who besides the 
 qualifications of reading and writing, with 
 the accomplishment of understanding 
 French, though still speaking the favourite
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 01 
 
 Patois dialect, had nothing more to boast 
 of than a servile deference to those in 
 power, and a readiness to carry into the 
 minute concerns of a small community the 
 same system of bigotry and oppression 
 that is sometimes seen in the government 
 of the province. 
 
 The late consul, who was found un- 
 tractable, had been displaced by the prior 
 of St. Roc, to make way for Monsieur 
 Vidal; but w^hether this favour was a 
 reward for services he had already ren- 
 dered, or a bribe for those to come, was 
 a disputed point, though one of little con- 
 sequence, as Vidal was not likely to stop 
 short in the career that led to the gratifi- 
 cation of his wishes, whatever might be 
 the price to be paid. 
 
 There were, however, troubles attend- 
 ing on his situation, that sometimes dis- 
 composed his countenance ; and this very 
 
 D 2
 
 52 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 morning, in a temper not the most propi- 
 tious, he had been giving audience to a 
 host of vassals defective in their rents — 
 cottagers unequal to the payment of the 
 disme, or lax in fulfilling the corvee due 
 to their lord, all bringing such undeniable 
 proofs of poverty and misery, that he 
 could not but feel it was like pressing flint- 
 stones for v^ine ; and the sending a few 
 of the half-starved and meagre wretches 
 to gaol was rather from impatient rage at 
 the sight of his empty leather bags, than 
 from an expectation that the severity would 
 succeed in filling them. 
 
 The crowd at length dispersed, some 
 in hopeless despair, to find a dungeon 
 scarcely less miserable than their homes, 
 others to wait their turn on a future day : 
 officers of justice swearing — women weep- 
 ing — old men venting their feelings in low 
 murmurs — the young provoking opposi-
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANCUEDOC. 53 
 
 tion by loud invectives, which the more 
 prudent in vain endeavoured to silence, 
 turned away, and the man of business 
 was left to his meditation, seated at his 
 inky desk, the tioor spread with account- 
 books, papers, manifestoes, arrets de 
 conseil, and lists of offenders ; and near 
 his feet a large chafing dish of hot em- 
 bers, which kept up a genial warmth in 
 the apartment, and served to light his pipe 
 whenever an intricate case called for the 
 fumes of tobacco to brighten his intellects. 
 He was dressed in a loose cassock of 
 coarse moultan, originally brown, but 
 which time had enlivened with a reddish 
 hue: on his head was a blue nightcap, 
 relieving the duty of a well-curled wig 
 that hung in readiness beside him, against 
 the arrival of visitors of more than usual 
 consequence. His features were sharp, 
 with angular cheek-bones, and bushy grey 
 
 D 3
 
 54 THE camisakd; or, the 
 
 eyebrows that almost concealed the little 
 eyes sunk beneath them. His complexion 
 was sallow, and seemed to assume a 
 deeper tinge as he counted the heaps of 
 silver before him, and sighed to reflect 
 how much more respectable they were in 
 bulk than in value. 
 
 The consul, however, was not quite 
 alone ; for in the doorway that led to the 
 kitchen, scarcely conscious himself in 
 which room he actually was, so undecided 
 was he rendered by his fear of intruding, 
 stood a little figure, often passed by in a 
 crowd, but which, if once noticed, was 
 not easily forgotten. This was Simon 
 Chas, the " valet de vill^," an officer 
 whose duties are multifarious and im- 
 portant, and bear some analogy to those 
 of our town-criers and bellmen. 
 
 Though Simon was not absolutely de- 
 formed, he was frequently suspected of
 
 PIIOTISTANTS OF LANGDEDOC. 55 
 
 being so, from an unaccountable awk- 
 wardness of gait and appearance, diflfering 
 extremely from his usually well-made and 
 agile countrymen. His knees ratlier pro- 
 jected from the perpendicular ; his head 
 was more than commonly large, and so 
 set between his shoulders as to deter him 
 from the exertion of frequently looking up 
 to those who in height towered much above 
 him. Add to this a vacant countenance, 
 and it will not be matter of surprise if he 
 passed current for one but half-witted. 
 Whether he was careless of the w orld's 
 opinion, and purposely suffered his wisdom 
 Id work behind the mask of folly, by an 
 ungoverned license of speech and action 
 he rather strengthened the idea, which an 
 occasional shrewdness did not wholly 
 dissipate. He was supposed to be much 
 in the consul's favour, and even acquainted 
 
 u 1
 
 56 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 with some of his secrets ; but as he never 
 revealed any, it is probable he had for- 
 gotten them, as his memory very nearly 
 resembled a sieve, and ''forget and for- 
 give" v^as his most appropriate motto. 
 
 Simon had, strange as it may appear, 
 contrived to captivate a woman of sense 
 enough for them both; some, indeed, 
 wisely conjectured, that she took him for 
 her better half, principally with a view to 
 keeping her powers of command from 
 rusting by disuse. 
 
 It was somewhat amusing to see the 
 air of authority with which he paraded 
 the streets when any proclamation called 
 for the exercise of his talents on a cracked 
 trumpet, that might have served for a 
 mountebank or travelling quack doctor, 
 seconding its ominous sound with the cry 
 of ** De la part du Roi et de Monsieur le
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 57 
 
 Consul !" contrasted with the subdued 
 air with which he returned to his humble 
 abode, to rock the cradle and receive from 
 his termagant partner a wholesome lecture 
 on his conduct during the day. 
 
 So matters stood when Monsieur Vidal, 
 as he was sliding a few crowns into a pri- 
 vate drawer, heard a low muttering of 
 voices in the kitchen. It was Mademoi- 
 selle Coste, who had entered with the 
 accustomed familiarity of the country, 
 and was making herself entertaining to 
 the servant girl, while she sat on a broken 
 stool, with the bellows, in the eagerness 
 of hstening, pointed to empty air. " Who's 
 there?" exclaimed the consul, gruffly. 
 
 Simon turned towards the kitchen fire, 
 not so much to see who it was, as to catch 
 what answer he was to give. 
 
 ** Who's there?" again repeated the
 
 58 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 consul, in a voice that made the girl blow 
 with a vehemence which threatened the 
 bellows with destruction. 
 
 " It's only Perrette and Mademoiselle 
 Coste, Sir," at length replied Simon. 
 
 '* Only who?" cried the consul. 
 
 " Only me," said the lady, in an insi- 
 nuating tone — '' only me, cousin ; and if 
 you're busy" • 
 
 " Busy ! I'm always busy, and it would 
 be well if you were so too," he added, in 
 a lower voice, but which Mademoiselle 
 Coste, who now stood with Simon on the 
 threshold, but too well overheard. 
 
 " I'm sure I am busy," she replied, 
 somewhat piqued ; '' but there's no busi- 
 ness I would not leave to give you plea- 
 sure, though this is the return I meet 
 with ; and I am sure I thought it would 
 give you pleasure to hear of a visit I made
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 59 
 
 this morning, where I took your part 
 against Monsieur la Porte and the lady 
 who is just come to the village ; but I am 
 sorry to see I am mistaken, and I may go 
 as I came." 
 
 Vidal, though he always feared some 
 mischief would ensue when his reputation 
 was thus defended, was yet unwilling to 
 displease her. '' Come, come," he cried, 
 " friends must not be so touchy ; I am 
 always, you know, glad to see you, my 
 dear cousin, but this morning I have been 
 a little hurried : so many affairs as I have 
 on my hands are enough to make a man 
 forget himself, and offend against the rules 
 of politeness : a little of your society will 
 dissipate my ill-humour. — So you have 
 called on the stranger, — always the first 
 to do what is proper ; I have some thoughts 
 of caUing myself 
 
 " If you do," said Mademoiselle Coste, 
 
 D G
 
 60 THE CA.MISARD; OR, THE 
 
 " you may chance to meet with an old 
 acquaintance, for she seemed to me to 
 know you." 
 
 There was something a little sarcastic 
 in her manner, that served to show she 
 had not forgotten, in the civility of his last 
 speech, the wish expressed in that under 
 tone, which is never used but to express 
 the truth. 
 
 *' To know me!" he exclaimed — ** I 
 wonder how or where ; but won't you be 
 seated?" and perceiving that she was re- 
 treating into the kitchen, he brushed off 
 the dust from an arm-chair that was al- 
 ways known as her favourite place, adding, 
 ** you must come in, — I have something 
 very particular to say to you. — Simon, 
 you may go for the present, and return: 
 to me as soon as vespers are over ; — shut 
 he door after you."« 
 
 As the lady advanced Simon withdrew^
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANQUKDOC. 61 
 
 but whether he retired farther than the 
 kitchen fire those in the parlour were too 
 much engaged to perceive, and it is cer- 
 tain he also had there a favourite seat, 
 where he was secure from the reprimands 
 that usually awaited him at home. 
 
 " And who is the lady, and what have 
 you to tell me ?" were uttered in the same 
 breath by Vidal to Mademoiselle Coste ; 
 but as the wish to communicate was at 
 least as strong in her bosom as the desire 
 to listen, she informed him of what had 
 passed at Madame Durand's without loss 
 of time, not even sparing his feelings the 
 least iota of Monsieur la Porte's remarks, 
 and concluded by hinting that he would 
 not have expressed himself thus to a total 
 stranger in the country. 
 
 Vidal, though he seldom admitted that 
 any possessed talents besides himself, 
 had often remarked in his cousin a great
 
 1^ THE camisard; or, the 
 
 shrewdness of observation, the result of 
 constant practice and the want of all other 
 occupation, just as one sense becomes 
 more perfect from the absence of another. 
 In the present instance he was glad to 
 catch at any information respecting a per- 
 son, whose arrival at Vallerargues excited 
 considerable surprise ; and his own time 
 being pretty much engaged, thought 
 nothing more suitable than bestowing the 
 office of spy on his dear cousin, which 
 was at once affording her a gratification 
 and an honour, as he gave her to under- 
 stand that the alarming reports which had 
 been spread about the country rendered 
 the movements of every stranger matter of 
 consequence. 
 
 " Now, my dear cousin," he continued, 
 ^' it is more useful for me that you should 
 find out whether thi^ is not some cunning 
 Protestant refugee returned without per-
 
 PROTESTANTS OE LANGUEDOC. 63 
 
 mission, than that you should repeat that 
 old fox's lies either to myself or others ; 
 and if you bring me intelligence of any 
 moment, you may be sure of a handsome 
 reward for your pains.'* 
 
 *' To be sure,^' cried the damsel, endea- 
 vouring to look persuasive ; '* a little cash 
 is seldom unacceptable, and I am hard 
 driven at this moment/' 
 
 " Well, well," said Vidal, '' there is no 
 harm in a foretaste," and he slipped a 
 crown into her hand, which was gratefully 
 received and pocketed. 
 
 After a moment's pause, she drew her 
 chair a little closer in, saying, *' I'm quite 
 ready now for what you have to tell me." 
 
 " I wish I was too," thought Vidal, as 
 he inwardly cursed the woman's curiosity 
 and his own want of invention at such a 
 pinch ; but his mind was otherwise en- 
 gaged, and there is no knowing how lon^
 
 64 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 Mademoiselle Coste might have sat in 
 breathless expectation, if, fortunately for 
 the poor consul, the door had not been 
 opened by Father Saturnine, a brother 
 from the priory of St. Roc, who intimated 
 to the consul that he was immediately to 
 accompany him to the Prior. Vidal joy- 
 fully sprung up — secured about his person 
 the bags of silver, which he knew would 
 make his presence more agreeable — took 
 down his wig, and left the room to change 
 his dress for one more suited to an eques- 
 trian expedition, whispering in the dis- 
 consolate lady's ear, by way of consola- 
 tion, that he would on his return that 
 evening give her a full account of his visit, 
 and relate all the intelhgence he should 
 gain.
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGDEDOC. 63 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 At lengtli they chanced to meet upon the way 
 An aged sire, in long black weeds yclad; 
 
 His feet all bare, his beard all hoary g^niie. 
 And by his belt his book he hanging had ; 
 
 Sober he seemed, and very sagely sad. 
 
 And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent. 
 
 Spenser's Fairy Queen, 
 
 On the evening of the same day, Madame 
 Durand perceived a crowd gathered before 
 her house, and desiring her maid to in- 
 quire into the cause, seated herself at the 
 window that looked to the street till her 
 return. After some time, she perceived 
 that they were surrounding a poor man, 
 who lay stretched on the ground, and 
 gave no other signs of life than a few con- 
 vulsive sobs. He appeared aged, and 
 his long grey hairs streamed over his
 
 (56 THE camisa-rd; or, the 
 
 shrivelled hands, which were fast clenched 
 against his forehead. Some looked on 
 him with sympathy ; others, by a strange 
 pen^ersion, were amused at the scene ; 
 and a noisy troop of children, in defiance 
 of the endeavours of Simon to drive them 
 away, were mocking the unhappy wretch. 
 
 A young man, of very interesting ap- 
 pearance, supported his head, and endea- 
 voured to check the troublesome curiosity 
 of the lookers on. 
 
 *' It's of no use," exclaimed an old 
 tottering dame — " it's all over with the 
 poor creature at last : I thought he could 
 not hold out long, and it's not before his 
 time, for he's the leavings of many a race, 
 I warrant. Where's Simon, who should 
 take care and prevent people from dying 
 in the highway, before our very eyes ?" 
 
 " Where I ought to be," replied Simon; 
 ^' but as for hindering people from dying
 
 67 
 
 irisre their famcy takes them, I doot see 
 kbdon^ to my office: besides, neigh- 
 bour Susaime, I daie say he'd not object 
 tD f car hoose, if yoa'd he so kind as to 
 take him in; andyoaanysliRlBaresQae 
 of Ihe ooidial left that made yourt ipo hus- 
 bands go off so easy, peace to their me- 
 
 ^ Where did toq leasn that, ^oa Bn- 
 pectiiieni Mlomf* ariedlhe dama 
 
 ** Irs bard to say,- rqiLied Siibqb, 
 •* when it's Iq eTcry body's month.** 
 
 ^ Coaie," said MadenxKBette CSi»le, 
 Tirbo was watching the road leading to the 
 pbory,*' let's have no qoandbi^. If this 
 good woman has a few cor^ fir the skk, 
 and lliey dont always succeed, the ^ v f t 
 may not be her's. It was notndpfaBito 
 try them on what belonged to heisclf&^ 
 But what wili the ooiunl say to all this, 
 when he cnmes bouJL r
 
 68 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 *' What, indeed," said Simon. " How- 
 ever, he'll not pass here in a hurry, I'm 
 thinking/' 
 
 " What do you mean ?" exclaimed the 
 lady, a little alarmed. 
 
 " Why," replied Simon, " that just now 
 he's seated snugly at supper, which gene- 
 rally fixes him for a good hour ; and that 
 I brushed his best beaver and doublet, 
 and rubbed his pistols bright ; which looks 
 rather like a journey for to-morrow than 
 to-night. Moreover, he has commanded 
 me to have his mule in readiness at day- 
 light." 
 
 " Impossible !" exclaimed Mademoi- 
 selle Coste. 
 
 ** Perhaps so," replied Simon, drily ; 
 " that's just what my wife says, when she 
 hears any thing she doesn't like ; but I 
 never found it altered the matter." 
 
 Mademoiselle Coste hurried off to as-
 
 PROTESTA.NTS OF LANGUEDOC. 69 
 
 certain if the information were correct, 
 and many followed, eager to receive the 
 same assurance. 
 
 Moved with compassion, and finding 
 her maid had forgotten her commission, 
 Madame Durand, after concealing her 
 face as much as possible with her veil, 
 descended into the road, to beg the poor 
 creature might be brought into her house, 
 in the hope that her care would yet re- 
 store him. The young man w^ho knelt 
 by him, lifted the stranger from the 
 ground, and carried him away from the 
 listening spectators, who, a little ashamed 
 on Madame Durand's appearance, soon 
 entirely dispersed. Nor were Simon's 
 efforts wanting to quicken their move- 
 ments. *' Home, home, good people," he 
 cried, " don't you know I'm the Consufs 
 representative, and am to be obeyed." 
 
 *' You, indeed," cried one woman, *' yes.
 
 70 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 about as much as the stick he puts his old 
 coat on, to frighten away the crows." 
 
 " If we don't mind you, Simon,'* ex- 
 claimed another, *^ you'll send your wife to 
 us, won't you ?" 
 
 Allusions of this kind were, for 
 obvious reasons, rather painful to poor 
 Simon's ears, so he retired quietly to 
 his house, forced to this humbling con- 
 clusion, that without his trumpet he was 
 no match for the imperious dames of 
 Vallerargues. 
 
 The stranger meanwhile was gently 
 placed by a blazing fire in Madame Du- 
 raiid's kitchen, the light from which feB 
 strongly on his pallid face; he could not 
 be less than eighty, yet, though wan and 
 wrinkled, and his countenance overspread 
 with the hue of death, it was one that 
 irresistibly excited the attention. Itwas 
 not merely from the look of misery com-
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. 71 
 
 mon to all in distress, and which simply 
 awakens our pity — strong conflicting pas- 
 sions appeared to have been marked 
 there, and to have worn deeper furrows 
 than those made by time. He was clothed 
 in a loose upper garment of coarse dark 
 stuff, decorated round the neck with scol- 
 lop shells, which served to indicate that 
 he was a mendicant Pilgrim; such a cha- 
 racter is not uncommon in that country, 
 even in the present day of light and im- 
 provement, since at the fairs and markets 
 they take their regular stand with the 
 mountebank, and barter toys and pictures, 
 hallowed by the touch of a relic, for the 
 hard-earned pence of the artisan and 
 labourer. A scrip was fastened by a 
 leather belt over one shoulder, a scanty 
 black cloak hung behind, and on his head 
 he wore an old broad -leafed hat, also or- 
 namented with shells. A long white
 
 72 TUE camisard; or, the 
 
 beard fell almost to his girdle. In one of 
 his hands, which now hung powerless by 
 his side, was a staff, terminating in a 
 cross, and surmounted by the image of 
 his patron Saint, and a rosary of large 
 beads suspended from his girdle, affixed 
 to which were a profusion of small shells, 
 relics, and crosses. 
 
 Madame Durand quickly perceived 
 that the poor man was only exhausted by 
 the violent struggles of a long fit, and 
 after employing the proper means to re- 
 store animation, quietly waited their effect. 
 A deep groan at length seemed to relieve 
 his bosom, and to restore suspended cir- 
 culation to his veins. He opened his 
 large blue eyes, and fixed them first on the 
 young man, who still supported him, and 
 then on Madame Durand, who, forgetting 
 all wish of concealment, in her charitable 
 exertions, had thrown her veil back, and
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. i6 
 
 was now leaning over him. He passed 
 his hand over his brow, as if to clear his 
 sight; then looked again, and a universal 
 tremour shook his aged frame. 
 
 '• Oh, he's going off again," whispered 
 tlie maid, " there's death in his face, we 
 shall never save him." 
 
 Madame Durand assured her it was 
 not uncommon after such an attack, and 
 addressing!; herself to the old man, be£r2:ed 
 him not to be uneasy, for he should want 
 for nothing it was in her power to bestow. 
 
 *' That voice of kindness, too," ex- 
 claimed the Pilgrim, listening as if to 
 catch some uncertain sound that floated 
 in the air near him, '* yet it cannot be; all 
 who were kind to me are gone, like the 
 bright colours of the setting sun, and I am 
 lefl to hnger on in darkness. It is a hard 
 lot, but what matter, for the few moments 
 my life has to run/ I must be gone," he 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 continued, after a pause, during which his 
 lips moved, though no sound was heard, 
 '' this is no place for me," and he at- 
 tempted to rise, but his feeble limbs re- 
 fused to support his weight, and he sunk 
 again on the chair exhausted by the effort. 
 
 Madame Durand, finding it vain to 
 persuade him to remain during the night, 
 inquired where were his friends, to whose 
 care he might be consigned. 
 
 " In the grave," was his reply. " No 
 one seeks after useless, withered branches, 
 except for the burning;'* nor would he 
 permit of any other arrangement, than 
 that Isidore, the young man who assisted 
 him, and who seemed well to understand 
 his turn of mind, should accompany him 
 on his way to his night's residence. 
 
 With some hesitation, Isidore inquired 
 if they had far to go. 
 
 " And what is that to you," said the old
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 75 
 
 man, sternly, " does your kindness de- 
 pend on miles and furlongs? And do 
 you think I am to say in such and such a 
 spot I dwell, that every vagabond may 
 come and claim fellowship with mc. It 
 is easier to track the wolf to its den, than 
 me to my cover." 
 
 Isidore professed his willingness to at- 
 tend him without question, only first beg- 
 ging permission to inform a person who 
 expected him of his going. 
 
 The old man smiled scornfully. " I 
 will spare you some pains. Ascend the 
 rock of the fountain, and I am much mis- 
 taken if you find not those you seek there 
 before you." 
 
 Isidore coloured, and promising to re- 
 turn immediately, left the room. 
 
 Madame Durand found herself alone 
 with the Pilgrim, who, leaning his face 
 against his hands, sat with his eyes im- 
 
 £ 2
 
 76 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 movably fixed on her. To divert him 
 from his scrutiny, she inquired if he were 
 well acquainted with the young man who 
 had shown him so much kindness. 
 
 " I know little harm of him, lady,'* re- 
 plied the Pilgrim, " and he bears a fair 
 character. They say he is a dutiful son 
 to a tender mother, that he gives away 
 what he has not sense enough to keep, 
 that he is gentle as a lamb to his friends, 
 but bold as a lion when any are oppressed. 
 Poor praise, methinks ! But he has not 
 been tried ; if he cannot bear the petty pro- 
 vocations of a peasant's life, he must be 
 weak indeed. The buzzing of a fly may 
 teaze an unbroken colt, but the generous 
 lion disregards it. I could tell him of 
 trials that it would make his hair stand 
 on end but to hear." 
 
 ** We are not all called to experience 
 them," said Madame Durand.
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 77 
 
 " And when we are called," he replied, 
 '* do we listen I do we not turn from the 
 combat, and sooner lay down in the street, 
 for the oppressor to tread on us, than 
 stand up and face him? I know this 
 well, for I have been among the base 
 ones, and how I have been punished for it, 
 those who held the scourge could best tell." 
 
 Madame Durand, though far from yield- 
 ing easily to womanish fears, was a httle 
 alarmed at the wildness of his discourse, 
 and with the idea of fixing his roving 
 imagination, asked some questions rela- 
 tive to his past life, and the variety of 
 scenes which his dress indicated him to 
 have witnessed. 
 
 " Yes, lady," he replied, *' I have wan- 
 dered and suffered during more than the 
 usual span of man's existence, and now 
 I am left to do the work I neglected in 
 my early days." 
 
 E 3
 
 78 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 '' Were you born in this country?'* said 
 Madame Durand. 
 
 '' In the mountains," he replied, " but 
 I left them when young ; it was the temp- 
 tation of the evil one, and I have never 
 prospered since. Turks, Jews, and 
 Christians, all have tried their malice 
 upon me ; and if I attempted to complain, 
 he was always at my ear to whisper it 
 was no more than I deserved. Even 
 when he 'brings me to the edge of the 
 grave, and I long to lay down on that cold 
 and quiet bed, he snatches me back, and 
 my torment is to begin again." 
 
 *^ And have you never," said Madame 
 Durand, " applied to the holy men of your 
 religion for their prayers and counsel ?" 
 
 The pilgrim bent his head towards the 
 ground, and in a low voice replied, " No 
 holy place must I enter — no prayer may I 
 offer, nor partake of any sacred rites. I
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 79 
 
 am a sinful man, and till the sign of re- 
 probation is taken off from me, I must 
 wander round the fold without presuming 
 to seek shelter within. The discipline of 
 the church is severe ; but they are mad 
 who prefer their sins to their safety." 
 After a silence of some length, he conti- 
 nued — ** Isidore tarries long — I must 
 away." 
 
 ** Youappeared," said Madame Durand, 
 *' so well aware of his business, that you 
 can easily judge how long it will detain 
 him." 
 
 *' Business!" cried the old man — '* I 
 said not business. Lady ; 'twas a fool's 
 errand, and common rules apply not to 
 such follies. Troubles come not thick 
 enough for the young — they must needs 
 go in search of them. He is poor, and 
 wishes one to share his poverty; he is 
 friendless, and cannot be satisfied without
 
 80 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 making himself enemies, and he has done 
 it too." 
 
 " Explain yourself," said Madame 
 Durand — *' you forget that I am a stranger 
 in this country." 
 
 " If you are," cried the old man, signi- 
 ficantly, *' remain such to malicious eyes, 
 for they can see through many disguises. 
 But for the young man. — In my youth I 
 was told a woman, like a skilful physician, 
 could tell the patient's disorder from his 
 looks. If you examined him well you might 
 have seen, from his colourless cheek — his 
 heavy eye — his care-worn brow, that he 
 thinks himself in love, — a remediless dis- 
 ease ; but if there is a being on earth who 
 has influence over him, let him be checked 
 in that career which crosses one who 
 never forgave an injury, or suffered it to 
 go unrevenged." 
 
 The entrance of Isidore prevented the
 
 PROTESTAXTS OF LAN'GUEDOC. 81 
 
 questions Madame Durand was still 
 anxious to put ; and the pilgrim, whose 
 mental wanderings seemed only connected 
 with some painful remembrances, took 
 leave with much solemnity, and leaning 
 on the arm of his young conductor, quitted 
 the village. 
 
 For some time they continued their 
 way in silence; and as the night ap- 
 proached, and every object was gradually 
 veiled in darkness, each appeared to be 
 sunk in deep meditation, though it was 
 evident, from the keen glances that the 
 pilgrim from time to time cast upon his- 
 companion, that he formed the subject of 
 his thoughts. Their road wound in a 
 gentle ascent, amongst hills of bare grey 
 granite, which rose on each side in wild 
 fantastic shapes, giving unbounded scope 
 to the imagination. Sometimes they re- 
 sembled the time-worn ruins of an ancient 
 
 E 5
 
 82 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 fortress, with its mouldering battlements 
 and yawning portals ; at others, they rose 
 in pyramids of immense height, or in 
 broad perpendicular masses, seeming like 
 the walls and bastions of a strongly forti- 
 fied city. In their crevices the evergreen 
 oak displayed its unfading verdure, either 
 like a tufted fringe skirting the immense 
 masses, or, where deeper chasms afforded 
 more freedom of vegetation, rising with 
 its usual luxuriance, and clothing the rocks 
 even to their very summits. A few wild 
 fowl, uttering their dismal cry as they 
 winged their way to their distant nests, 
 and a stream almost too narrow to be 
 seen, but whose noise was increased as 
 it dashed over the stones that impeded its 
 passage to the vale, were the only sounds 
 heard ; and when at length the moon, in 
 unclouded majesty, rose from behind the 
 grey cliffs, no li\^ing objects were to be
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 83 
 
 seen but the two lonely travellers, whose 
 appearance suited well with the wildness 
 of the place. That of the Pilgrim has 
 been already described. Isidore, still in 
 the prime of youth, was somewhat above 
 the common size, but possessing all the 
 grace and agility that are the result of 
 health and vigour. His complexion was 
 dark, and his features could not boast the 
 regularity which might do credit to the 
 sculptor's skill ; but the intelligent painter 
 would not have desired a finer study than 
 his expressive hazel eye, smooth brow, 
 and mouth, whose ready smile was indi- 
 cative of cheerful gaiety and open-hearted 
 generosity. His dress was that of the 
 peasants of the country ; his scrip and 
 hautboy hung by his side, and round his 
 waist he wore a worked scarlet sash, 
 wrapped in several folds. There was 
 something commanding in his whole ap- 
 
 P 6
 
 C4 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 pearance which his associates could not 
 withstand, and which they looked on as a 
 presage of future elevation ; and though 
 far from affecting superiority, he uncon- 
 sciously practised a condescension of 
 manner that can rarely be exercised 
 among the poor. Nor was there wanting 
 the admiration of many a village belle to 
 intoxicate the head of the handsome shep- 
 herd ; but his coldness proved as formi- 
 dable a shield as the segis of Minerva. 
 It is, hov^'-ever, possible, that their com- 
 plaints shov/ed rather that he could not 
 change, than that he could not feel. 
 
 Whatever was the subject of Isidore's 
 reflections, it did not appear to convey 
 unmixed pleasure to his mind, and after 
 some time, apparently spent in endeavour- 
 ing to chase the obtrusive ideas that pre- 
 sented themselves, finding the old man 
 persisted in his silence, he began to
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. 85 
 
 breathe softly on his hautboy the notes 
 of a favourite romance. 
 
 The Pilgrim frowned and shook his 
 head. — " Young man," he at length ex- 
 claimed/' is the time never to come when 
 you will lay aside all childish amuse- 
 ments, and prepare for the duties of life ? 
 I have watched you long, and grieve to 
 see you only lay down one folly to take 
 up another, and that when you should be 
 ready for my summons, you are listening 
 to every idle fancy that woman or child 
 can amuse you with." 
 
 *' Father," replied Isidore, " your re- 
 buke is severe, speak but the word, and 
 I am ready; but, truly, my thoughts are 
 at this moment so uncompanionable that, 
 finding you not disposed for conversation, 
 I vv^ould fain try if my pipe could afford 
 me more amusement."
 
 86 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 ''No jesting, boy!" cried the Pilgrim, 
 angrily. 
 
 '' Nay, father, I am far from such a 
 thought," said Isidore, '' but if you knew 
 how painful reflection sometimes is^ and 
 what cause I have to feel it so .'^ 
 
 " If I knew," cried the Pilgrim, in a 
 tone of bitter scorn. *' But you are yet too 
 weak to bear even the recital of what 
 racks other men's minds. So you think 
 you have cause to complain? Silly child ! 
 a cloud is before your sun, and you droop 
 as if it was never to shine again. All 
 this load of sorrow I can sum up in one 
 word — you are poor!" 
 
 " There is much more^ father," cried 
 Isidore. 
 
 ''Ay, ay, I forgot^ there is more/* 
 said the Pilgrim, " you are proud." 
 
 " Proud !" exclaimed Isidore, while his
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 87 
 
 eyes kindled, before more tardy con- 
 science had time to whisper, He is right. 
 
 '- Yes," continued the Pilgrim, *' you 
 are proud, and to be poor and proud, and 
 added to that to be in love, is enough to 
 sink any man into despair. Listen to me. 
 Your mother, young man, has often 
 charged you to come to me for counsel, 
 before you take any important step in 
 life, and to this deference I am entitled, 
 for I have watched you openly and in 
 secret, with a care that would appear 
 strange to the world. But what prog- 
 nostic do you give that such a step will 
 ever be taken. Tales and romances are 
 your study, and a woman's distaff would 
 best suit your fair and delicate hand." 
 
 Isidore was about to speak, but the old 
 man imposing silence with a commanding 
 air, thus continued — 
 
 *' Your visits to the Pastor's I did not
 
 88 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 prevent, for I thought you might derive 
 the good he could impart, without im- 
 bibing the evil that was lurking near at 
 hand. But the memory of threescore 
 years is not very clear, and in indulging 
 this hope, I had forgotten the weakness 
 of my youth, and the power of a wom.an's 
 smile. Besides, did you think you were 
 born to be a bookworm, or that the prize 
 I have held out to you was to be won by 
 sophistical arguments and the idle intrica- 
 cies of carnal learning } Are these pur- 
 suits, which become the well-fed, lazy 
 drones of a convent, to be compared with 
 the noble ambition which I would in- 
 fuse into your breast ? Remember, we 
 do not live for ourselves alone, and that 
 the call we are to listen to, is not that of 
 our own deceitful fancy, but of our 
 brethren in distress ; nor must we sink 
 into repose and inactivity till they can say,
 
 PBOTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 89 
 
 ' Enough, our wrongs are revenged, our 
 hearts' desire is satisfied.' Shame on 
 your trifling ! Was it for this I confided 
 to your ear a secret on which my safety 
 and life depends? Was it for this I en- 
 deavoured to fill your heart with admira- 
 tion for the deeds of the worthies of old, 
 who have fought and suffered gloriously 
 for our faith? The kindling of your eye 
 deceived me; I thought, too, that I saw 
 on your cheek the glow of emulation, the 
 firm resolve to do or suffer like them ; 
 but no, it was the childish wonder of 
 inexperience ; a tale of fairies and necro- 
 mancers would have made the same im- 
 pression. Nor is it this alone I have to 
 censure. Far from following my direc- 
 tions, with regard to a man whom it is 
 now dangerous to provoke, you have by 
 more than one act of folly drawn down 
 his anger upon you, before you have a
 
 90 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 right to despise it. Are you aware that 
 you are thwarting Vidal in a pursuit that 
 fills up whatever time he can spare from 
 his avarice ; and that though he feel not 
 the power of love, he will rage under a 
 disappointment wdth the violence of the 
 fondest lover?" 
 
 ''And who are you?" exclaimed Isi- 
 dore, suddenly stopping short, and look- 
 ing at the Pilgrim writh indignation. 
 " What claim have you to such an obe- 
 dience? v^hat right to scan my conduct 
 with the scrutiny of a master? You are 
 mistaken if you interpret my docility in 
 trifles into a submission of all the conduct 
 of my life to your control. I may have 
 hitherto humoured your fancies, but I am 
 neither to be threatened nor cajoled by you 
 into courting the favour of one I look upon 
 with contempt, or so much as abstaining 
 from openly manifesting my sentiments 
 towards him."
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANQUEDOC. 91 
 
 *' Who am I !" repeated the Pilgrim, look- 
 ing for a moment sternly at Isidore, and 
 then taking off his large slouched hat, 
 he shook back the long white hairs that 
 hung over his face, as if the sight of its 
 wrinkles should excite more respect in 
 one so much his inferior in age. Then, 
 after a considerable pause, he continued 
 in a softer tone, ** Young man, read my 
 history in these furrows. I had a name, 
 but it must not be coupled with disgrace. 
 I had a country, friends, relations. I had 
 one I loved so dearly that the strongest 
 passion you can conceive, seems weak as 
 scorching fiax when compared with what 
 I felt ; and what I now am, you know — 
 a wretch, for the finger of scorn to point at, 
 and for him I most cherish to shght and con- 
 temn. May you never know the misery of 
 dragging the load of years through a world 
 peopled by strangers, and to look upon
 
 92 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 every insult as your just reward. Pardon 
 me, my son, I have been too hasty, we 
 will leave it to another time. But as 
 you value your own repose and honour, 
 beware how you entangle yourself with 
 friend or foe ; but when the glorious 
 moment arrives, let me find you free to 
 fulfil your destiny." 
 
 This speech had the effect of calming 
 Isidore's rising anger, and of making 
 him ashamed of the irritability he had 
 given way to. He held out his hand, 
 which was received with pleasure, and a 
 reconciliation speedily effected. Yet he 
 knew not how to understand the mysteri- 
 ous expressions of his companion, and 
 which he had hitherto regarded as the 
 sallies of a disordered imagination, work- 
 ing upon warm affections, and which had 
 no foundation in reality. 
 
 Isidore was the son of poor parents ;
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEUOC. 93 
 
 his father died when he was very young, 
 and his widowed mother, looking upon 
 him as her sole consolation in the season 
 of her affliction, had not only loved him 
 with the ardour of affection commonly felt 
 for an only child, but had gone to the 
 utmost limit of her means in procuring for 
 him whatever advantages of education 
 were within her reach. Some of the 
 neighbours sneered at the learning be- 
 stowed upon the boy ; but notwithstand- 
 ing these advantages, they soon found 
 that he toiled as constantly for his mother, 
 and obeyed her with as much docility, as 
 if his evenings were spent at cards and in 
 dancing, instead of reading. During his 
 childhood, Father Bernardine paid fre- 
 quent visits to the village of Vallerargues, 
 and, cither struck with his intelligent 
 countenance, or indulging, as some ima- 
 gined, the hope of making a proselyte of
 
 94 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 one so well calculated to do honour to his 
 care, generally fixed himself in Made- 
 leine's cottage during his stay ; and her 
 hospitality was the more readily bestowed 
 when she found that during these visits 
 he communicated much instruction to Isi- 
 dore, relating the wonders he had met 
 with during his eventful life, and which 
 were eagerly gathered by a mind which 
 thirsted with ardour for information. 
 
 Whether Madeleine treated the sus- 
 picion of his design as idle gossip, or felt 
 firm in her faith, which was that of the 
 persecuted sect of Protestants, the villa- 
 gers could not discover, though great 
 pains was taken to do so. 
 
 Their whispers, however, alarmed the 
 zeal of M, la Porte for these members of 
 his flock. For some years past, the fits 
 to which the Pilgrim was subject became 
 more frequent, and his restlessness so
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 95 
 
 great, that he came rarely to Vallcrargues; 
 M. la Porte, therefore, seized every 
 opportunity to endeavour to strengthen 
 the faith which he considered as waver- 
 ing, and became so much interested in 
 Isidore, that he offered to initiate him 
 into his favourite studies, looking upon 
 them as an effectual check to the progress 
 of error. Nor was he without hopes of 
 fitting him for one day succeeding him in 
 his sacred office, and thus converting him 
 from an opposer into a champion of the 
 truth. He continually pressed the sub- 
 ject upon Madeleine's attention, and was 
 much discomposed to find the poor woman 
 so infatuated with Father Bernardino, as 
 to close her ears against every proposition 
 received without his knowledge. 
 
 M. la Porte's care over Isidore, and 
 indeed affection for him, increased in pro- 
 portion to the danger in which he con-
 
 96 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 ceived him placed ; and when he could not 
 help remarking that while seated in the 
 recess of the large chimney during the 
 winter's evenings, he was endeavouring to 
 open to his young mind the classic stores 
 of Greece and Rome, his eye and his at- 
 tention wandered continually to the part of 
 the room where, by the light of a lamp, his 
 daughter Rose was spinning, and singing 
 by her mother's side, he only smiled and 
 shook his head, and again returned to the 
 often explained passage. Whether he 
 had fully made up his mind not to oppose 
 Isidore's growing inclination is doubtful, 
 and perhaps it was simply for the sake of 
 displaying his superior judgment, that he 
 always found some objection to the song 
 of the Genevan worthies, of whose pro- 
 perty, age, and dispositions, his wife 
 received constant information from her 
 female correspondents in her native town.
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 97 
 
 and of which she always made a long enu- 
 meration when the marriage of their 
 daughter formed the subject of their pri- 
 vate discourse. 
 
 Father Bernardine, on his side, would 
 sometimes raise a querulous objection 
 against these frequent visits to the Pas- 
 tor's liouse, but his words were not suffi- 
 ciently powerful to counteract the charm 
 that drew Isidore thither, and his argu- 
 ments seemed as incomprehensible as his 
 conduct. 
 
 Meanwhile the Pilgrim and Isidore 
 continued their route in silence. Each 
 seemed to fear introducing a new topic of 
 conversation, lest it should recal the un- 
 pleasant feeling tliat was just banished 
 from their minds. The moon had dis- 
 apjKjared beliind the clouds, the scenery 
 became more and more wild, and the 
 latter was on the point o[ inquiring if 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 Father Bernardine was well acquainted 
 with the way, and knew the direction 
 they were pursuing, when a light appeared 
 in the surrounding darkness, so faint and 
 trembling, that it might be taken either for 
 a distant star, or the lamp in some cottage, 
 perched amidst the recesses of the moun- 
 tains. They both perceived it at once ; 
 and the Father, with a strength of lungs 
 which was unexpected from one of his 
 age and emaciated appearance, imme- 
 diately began to make the woods and 
 rocks re-echo to the notes of a vesper 
 hymn, and instantly several voices, which 
 seemed to proceed from the spot where 
 the light still hovered, joined in the har- 
 monious strain. The Father stopped, 
 and, taking Isidore's hand, "This," he 
 said, " is, for the present, the close of the 
 service I exact from you ; here we part, 
 but not for long. I would say, follow me.
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 09 
 
 as Elisha did Elijah of old, and the hand 
 of Providence work the rest, but it cannot 
 yet be. Once more, mark my words: 
 hold yourself free, let no passion over- 
 come you. If you are prudent, you can- 
 not be shackled by human force ; but 
 you will be closely watched, and a 
 single false step may undo you. Re- 
 member this is not a time for marriage 
 feasts and bridal garments, for blood may 
 tiow among them." So saying he dis- 
 appeared amidst the thickest part of the 
 wood, though no path opened to guide 
 him. 
 
 Isidore for some time watched the 
 light which seemed for a while slowly to 
 descend, and at length also vanished ; 
 and then, musing on the advice he had 
 received, he turned back by tlie way they 
 had come, intending, as the night was 
 
 F 2
 
 100 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 fine, and the hour late, to stroll away the 
 interval that remained till sunrise, and not 
 vainly seek a repose which he felt would 
 fly from him.
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 101 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Hommes nuirs d'oii sortez vous ? 
 Nous sortons de dessous terre, 
 IVIoitie renards, nioitit'' loups, 
 Notre reg'le est un mystere. 
 
 De Beranger, 
 
 We must now return to Mons. Vidal, 
 whom we left preparing for an expedition 
 to the Priory of St. Roc. With an air 
 more than usually consequential, he 
 mounted his well trained mule, while 
 Father Saturnine kept pace on foot, ready 
 to answer any questions put to him, but 
 abstaining, with well practised silence, 
 irom provoking all needless conversation. 
 The road presented few subjects to excite 
 the Consufs attention, and he suffered 
 himself to be absorbed in conjectures as 
 
 F 3
 
 102 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 to the purport of this summons. It was 
 important not to come wholly unprepared 
 into his patron's presence, but the difficulty- 
 lay in forcing information from Father 
 Saturnine, who always yielded it with 
 reluctance. Some hints he thought might 
 be obtained by a man of his penetration, 
 and accordingly, slackening his pace, he 
 began by inquiring after the Prior's 
 health. 
 
 ''His reverence does not complain," 
 was the reply. 
 
 " Ay, but my good friend," continued 
 the Consul, '* that is no sure criterion; a 
 man engaged in weighty affairs has seldom 
 time to attend to himself, and the body is 
 worn out by the labours of the mind." 
 
 " Perhaps it is so," replied the Father. 
 
 *' How are his spirits ?" said Vidal. 
 
 '' His reverence,," replied the Father, 
 *' is not much addicted to carnal mirth."
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. 103 
 
 " Nay, holy Father," said Vidal, *' are 
 the Canons of the Church so rigid as to 
 condemn a little harmless gaiety ? You 
 yourself, I doubt not, relax sometimes 
 into a smile, not to mention occasional 
 laughter, at your Carnival festivities/' 
 
 The monk armed himself with a look 
 of horror, as if the supposition were a sug- 
 gestion of the enemy, and it must be 
 owned, no one else who had seen his 
 death-like countenance appearing from 
 under his black cowl, would have sus- 
 pected him of such an offence against 
 decorum. 
 
 Heedless of the effect of his last remark, 
 Vidal inquired how the Prior had passed 
 the day. 
 
 *' In solitude and prayer,*' replied the 
 Father; "none were called to his pre- 
 sence, and none durst venture uncalled." 
 
 F 4
 
 J04 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 ''' That does not the least astonish me," 
 said Vidal. 
 
 '' Ah ! thought he, this sohtude and 
 prayer augur ill. I have been told, that 
 religion calms the passions ; be that as it 
 may with others, I never saw the Prior, 
 after a day of unusual devotion, but the 
 first glance told me how he had been em- 
 ployed, and dearly I had cause to rue it. 
 Commend me to a jolly Superior, who 
 can laugh aud enjoy himself, and let 
 others enjoy themselves too, but this 
 man, when his conscience twinges a little 
 more than common, and he begins to think 
 of repenting, must needs make all the 
 world do penance along with him. I 
 wish I was safely out of his presence/' 
 
 All further remarks were prevented by 
 their arrival at the end of their journey, and 
 the ready wicket opened to receive them.
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGLEDOC. 105 
 
 The Priory was seated on an eminence, 
 and reared its stately towers far above 
 the surrounding champaign country, which 
 varied with farms and villages, olivets, 
 streams, and vineyards, lay stretched for 
 many miles, like a far-spreading map 
 below. The splendour of the building 
 had been much increased by the munifi- 
 cence of the present Superior, to whom 
 the monks were indebted for a beautiful 
 chapel, and various reparations and addi- 
 tions to the original pile, to which he had 
 given outwardly the strength and solidity 
 of a Baron s castle, and within, all the 
 magnificence which the utmost stretch of 
 the ecclesiastical statutes would permit. 
 They were, indeed, justly proud of their 
 Prior, and even his vassals, when they 
 observed the admiration of strangers, who 
 turned far out of their way to view the 
 Priory of St. Roc, forgot, in the vanity of 
 
 F 3
 
 106 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 the moment, the hardship and oppression 
 under which they laboured. 
 
 The Consul, leaving his mule to be con- 
 ducted by the grooms to the sumptuous 
 stables constructed for the Prior's palfreys, 
 followed with uncertain steps the solemn 
 tread of Father Saturnine, who, after tra- 
 versing a length of corridors, ushered 
 him in silence into his patron's private 
 apartment. 
 
 There was little in the first appearance 
 of the Prior of St. Roc to warrant the ap- 
 prehension with which the Consul always 
 beheld him. He was small of stature, 
 wore the plainest dress consistent with 
 his dignity, and displayed none of those 
 tricks of authority which so often impose 
 on the ^oilgar. But those who knew him 
 best, and were most frequently in his 
 presence, felt that an atmosphere of con- 
 straint was breathed around him, which
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANQUEDOC. 107 
 
 seemed to shackle even their thoughts. 
 He was descended from an ancient family 
 illustrious in every generation, and, as 
 was usually the case with the younger 
 sons of the nobility, was from his birth 
 destined to the church, for which profes- 
 sion, even in childhood, he always mani- 
 fested a decided preference. He might 
 almost have been said to be born a Jesuit, 
 and an education among those worthy 
 followers of Loyola only served to deve- 
 lop his natural disposition. 
 
 In such a character it was difficult to 
 say what passion predominated ; all were 
 at the command of one master-spring, — the 
 desire of aggrandizing the church to which 
 he belonged, or rather himself, as a par- 
 taker of her honours. To this object 
 every thing gave way ; in this service his 
 devotion was indeed that of the heart, if 
 heart he could bo said to possess, who 
 
 F G
 
 108 THE CAMI9ARD ; OR, THE 
 
 during his whole life had never displayed 
 one instance of natural feeling. He had 
 early learnt from his instructors, that the 
 end sanctifies the means ; and as he con- 
 trived to flatter himself that his design 
 was laudable, he would have deemed it 
 a cov/ardly desertion of the good cause to 
 shrink from any steps by which it might 
 be forwarded, and was thus led to commit 
 actions from which he nwAii have shrunk 
 had his aim been less stedfast. Often, 
 too, the imbecility or fraud of his agents 
 entangled him in difficulties it was easier 
 to cut through than unravel ; and yet, so 
 serviceable was his hypocrisy, that he had 
 hitherto escaped with only such a degree 
 of obloquy as it was said superior minds 
 never fail to incur. 
 
 The paternal property of the Prior's 
 family had fallen to the elder branch ; but 
 a large fortune, which descended from
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 109 
 
 their mother, had been the portion of his 
 only sister, and was bequeathed to him 
 in the event of her dying unmarried. This 
 sister had early in life, and against the 
 will of her friends, married the Baron de 
 Courcy, a firm adherent to the Protestant 
 faith, unfortunate in all things but the pos- 
 session of her affection. From that mo- 
 ment she became as one dead to her 
 unyielding brother ; but she was still 
 living in the eye of the law, and an incum- 
 brance on the property he had already 
 dedicated in idea to his own use. 
 
 By dint of secret practices, an order for 
 the Baron's banishment was procured, 
 as a man capable of fomenting dangerous 
 disturbances amongst a party who had 
 been too deeply injured to be easily trusted 
 by their oppressors ; and the Frior schooled 
 his conscience into considering it praise- 
 Avorthy to root out a heretic from the land,.
 
 110 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 where, like the baneful yew, he shed his 
 noxious influence on all around. It was 
 his zeal obtained an order that the Baron's 
 only child should be separated from its 
 parents, and consigned to his immediate 
 guardianship ; and the very satellites of 
 his power were melted by the heartrending 
 grief of the Baroness, when recommending 
 her beloved infant to heaven and her bro- 
 ther's care. And when the child was 
 reported to have sickened and died, an 
 outward appearance of respect to its me- 
 mory silenced all remarks. 
 
 Not long after, the mother also died ; 
 and the Prior then scrupled not to declare 
 that no legal marriage could take place 
 between a heretic and a daughter of the 
 church, and braved the infamy he thus 
 cast on nis sister's fame for the sake of 
 those large possessions, of which he im- 
 mediately made himself master.
 
 PROTESTAMSOF LANGUKDOC. Ill 
 
 The wretched Baron de Ccxircy, for- 
 bidden to return and assert his right, saw 
 himself reduced to comparative poverty, 
 in a foreign land ; and while he pined in 
 hopeless misery, the Prior, triumphant in 
 success, thanked his patron saint, for 
 having enabled him to make such rich 
 offerings at his shrine. 
 
 It was generally supposed that his in- 
 timate acquaintance with Monsieur Vidal 
 commenced about this period, when his 
 new accession of wealth rendered his 
 assistance useful ; and Vidal's zeal in the 
 character of a convert to the Roman Ca- 
 tholic rehgion, which led him to harass 
 tliose he had left by every vexation in his 
 power, could not fail to be acceptable to 
 the Prior. It was, however, remarked 
 that though the new consul talked mucn 
 of tlie honour of having such a patron, ana 
 profeiBsed for him the most devoted grati-
 
 112 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 tude, he was rather shy of his presence, 
 and liked his visits to the priory better in 
 retrospect than anticipation. 
 
 Such were his feelings on entering the 
 apartment where the Prior sat in solitary 
 state. Vidal made one of his most pro- 
 found and propitiatory bows, and in so 
 doing, took an opportunity of drawing 
 from the pocket of his coat the bags of 
 silver he had provided himself with. 
 The Prior motioned him to a seat, which 
 seemed to him as if purposely placed that 
 the full blaze of the setting sun might fall 
 upon his countenance, whilst the rest of 
 the chamber was in gloom ; and, alas ! it 
 was not possible, by a dexterous jirk, to 
 give the ponderous chairs then in fashion 
 a more agreeable position. He therefore 
 seated himself, continuing painfully silent 
 for some time ; then, after a few slight 
 hems, ventured to trust his voice with
 
 PIIOTESTAN'TS OF LANfil'EDOC. 113 
 
 an inquiry of how his Reverence liiid 
 slept the preceding night. The Prior, 
 who was writing, thought the question 
 did not deserve a reply ; and Vidal, after 
 a few more hems, placed the cash on one 
 corner of the table, pushing it forward by 
 degrees, as he explained, with much cir- 
 cumlocution, the difficulty of getting 
 money, refractory spirit of the tenants, 
 and his own exertions, which were, how- 
 ever, he protested, too trifling to deserve 
 any attention. 
 
 '' Then let us think no more about 
 them,'' said tlie Prior, who, at the begin- 
 ning of the speech, had suspended his 
 occupation, and sat, his pen in his hand, 
 and his eyes fixed upon the speaker. " It 
 was not, M. Vidal, on such weighty af- 
 fairs, I requested your presence, this 
 evening. It is long since we met, and I
 
 114 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 wished to know if there is any news 
 stirring about you?" 
 
 " Your reverence is pleased to be gra- 
 cious/' replied the Consul, " but such an 
 obscure village as Vallerargues can offer 
 little to attract your notice. To be sure, 
 we have the same events as happen to the 
 rest of the world ; births, marriages, and 
 deaths, and sometimes they don't come in 
 their proper order, the first before the 
 second! — he! he! he! — but I don't imme- 
 diately recollect anything of that kind, — 
 all quiet, all happy, as you could wish 
 them." 
 
 "You are sure, then, nothing has 
 occurred," repeated the Prior, his coun- 
 tenance darkening as he spoke. 
 
 " Nothing, I assure you," replied the 
 Consul. *' What can he be sifting after V 
 thought he, in some consternation, " I'd
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 115 
 
 make up anything, if I knew what would 
 satisfy him.'* 
 
 " When I seek intelligence of conse- 
 quence, then," continued the Prior, "I 
 must go elsewhere than to Mons. Vidal. 
 I have been told that a strange lady has 
 taken up her residence at Vallerargues ; 
 but perhaps I am misinformed, or the 
 Consul I appointed over the village 
 could not have been ignorant of the cir- 
 cumstance. 
 
 ^ "Is that all?" exclaimed Vidal, with some 
 effrontery. *' I must own, I had forgotten 
 what was so little worth notice. Lady, 
 did your reverence say? Not much 
 claim to that title, I fancy. I made it 
 my business to inquire; quite a second- 
 rate sort of person, too insignificant to be 
 mentioned in your presence." 
 
 Darker grew the Prior's brow, as the 
 Consul vainly endeavoured to twist a Httle
 
 116 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 on one side or the other, from under the 
 scrutiny of his eye. 
 
 '* You are certain of being well in- 
 formed ?" he again demanded. 
 . '' Quite certain," replied the Consul, 
 who saw no way of escape, but by bravely 
 lying. 
 
 " Then, Mons. Vidal, either you or I 
 must change our agents, I fear," replied 
 the Prior, and taking a folded paper from 
 his breviary, ''this is the deposition I 
 can rely on," and read as follows : 
 
 " Madame Durand is a lady of distin- 
 guished abilities, professing the pretended 
 reformed opinions in religion, and sup- 
 posed to have returned to this country for 
 purposes connected with the interest of 
 the Baron de Courcy." 
 
 The Prior then replaced the paper, 
 which was in his own handwriting, into 
 the breviary. " Now, Mons. Vidal, what
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 117 
 
 ha\ e you to say, and what do you expect 
 to hear from me V* 
 
 The Consul sat speechless, the mortified 
 victim of his own want of veracity and 
 judgment. His reflections were also con- 
 tinually disordered by the anticipation of 
 losing the Prior's protection, whom he 
 knew to be peculiarly tenacious of any 
 inattention on the part of those he em- 
 ployed. 
 
 The latter for some time enjoyed his 
 confusion, and then said, " Mons. Vidal, 
 I know you well, and because I know 
 you, I never trust you. You may, perhaps, 
 think me in your power T' 
 
 Here the Consul began warmly to pro- 
 test no such idea had ever entered his 
 mmd. 
 
 The Prior waved his hand to command 
 silence. ** It is useless to give assurances 
 on a point that I hold to be of no consc-
 
 118 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 quence. I have employed you, it is true, 
 in affairs I should not wish known to the 
 whole world, but your understanding is 
 too confined, to perceive how subordinate 
 a part you have acted, and with how small 
 a share of the action you were made 
 acquainted; to pubUsh what you know 
 would expose you to the derision of all 
 men of sense, who would in a moment 
 perceive you were grossly ignorant of the 
 plot you pretended to reveal. You are 
 but a wheel in the machinery I set at 
 work, and one which, if thrown aside, 
 would not impede the progress of the 
 whole. It is you, rather, who are in my 
 power, as you may remember " 
 
 Here the Consul ventured timidly to 
 suggest something of the secrecy and 
 sacredness of confession. 
 
 *' You need not inform me on that head,^' 
 continued the Prior; '* I am well aware
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 119 
 
 also how much men rely on that sacra- 
 ment, when an overburdened conscience 
 seeks a relief it would better find in re- 
 pentance and amendment ; but there are 
 ways of making you feel without violating 
 the ecclesiastical rules. It is not, however, 
 my intention to punish you for this 
 neglect." 
 
 '' I most humbly thank your reverence," 
 exclaimed Vidal, who apprehended these 
 remonstrances would lead to something he 
 feared more than reproachful words, to 
 which his ear was pretty well accustomed. 
 ** Peace!" cried the impatient Prior, 
 ** and hear me to the end. I am assured, 
 as I have already told you, that Madame 
 Durand is in this country for purposes 
 inimical to the well-being of our holy 
 church, and with the impious design of 
 endeavouring to divert from the sacred 
 uses to which I have dedicated it, tlie
 
 120 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 wealth of the late deluded Baroness de 
 Courcy. The Baron has been induced, 
 by some weak counsels, to attempt pro- 
 curing in the parliament of Montpellier, a 
 ratification of his illegal marriage; and at 
 the same time, vague rumours are afloat, 
 respecting the death of their unhappy 
 child. It is incumbent on me, and on all 
 over whom I have any authority, to stand 
 up in the church*s cause, and secure the 
 property which is spent to her glory from 
 worse than destruction, since it is better 
 to destroy our arms than suffer them to 
 pass into the enemy's hands. Now, as to 
 that boy—" 
 
 "The boy!" repeated Vidal, in a tone 
 of as much alarm as if the Grand Inqui- 
 sitor himself were questioning him. 
 
 " Ay, the boy," said the Prior, raising 
 his voice — " where js he?" 
 
 Vidal turned deadly pale, and his under
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 121 
 
 lip quivered convulsively as he replied — 
 '• Surely, your Reverence jests to ask me 
 such a question. Can I recall the dead ? 
 You must remember, that your illustrious 
 nephew, whom, on my humble entreaty, 
 you suffered to remain a short time with 
 the person who had nursed him, did not 
 long survive the departure of his parents, 
 and by your own orders the funeral cere- 
 mony was privately performed, and masses 
 said for the repose of his soul." 
 
 *' Indeed !" cried the Prior, passing 
 his hand before his forehead, as if endea- 
 vouring to clear his recollection, — *' is it 
 even as you say?" 
 
 " Yes," continued Vidal, beginning to 
 revive ; " there are even other circum- 
 stances which would serve to confirm the 
 fact." 
 
 '* There is no need, M. Yidal," said 
 the Prior — " I am satisfied. But if I 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 ]22 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 remember right, there was no evidence — 
 legal evidence I should say — of his de- 
 cease ; and it may be of consequence that 
 I should have such to produce, as you 
 know not what captious antagonists we 
 may meet with. Though I do not doubt 
 your word, yet, for the satisfaction of 
 others, and as witnesses might be with 
 difficulty found, I must beg you to sign a 
 declaration to the purport of what you 
 have just stated, confirming it by oath : 
 and you know," he continued, regarding 
 him steadfastly, " how surely Divine ven- 
 geance pursues the perjurer, and how 
 dreadful are the thunders which the church 
 in her wrath hurls against his accused 
 head. Here is the pen — write without 
 delay." 
 
 Scarcely conscious of what he did, 
 Vidal took the pen and scrawled what 
 his patron dictated ; but his hand shook
 
 rnOTESTANTS OF I.ANGUEDOC. 123 
 
 SO violently, he could witli difficulty form 
 the letters. 
 
 ** Now," said the Prior, without ap- 
 pearing to notice his agitation, *' kneel 
 down, take this cross in your hands, and 
 repeat wliat I shall say.'* 
 
 The terrified Consul, unable to form 
 a single determination, but without cou- 
 rage to refuse, sunk on his knees, and 
 repeated a string of anathemas against 
 himself, should what he swore prove false. 
 As they increased in horror, his tongue 
 refused their utterance, and his hps 
 moved without producing a sound. 
 
 " Whence is this ?" demanded the 
 Prior, with apparent surprise. '* Any 
 one who knew you less intimately than I 
 do, Monsieur Vidal, would have strange 
 suspicions excited : but if you have scru- 
 ples against an oath, for I desire always 
 to show tenderness to weak consciences, 
 
 G 2
 
 124 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 I will by another method procure for myself 
 the necessary evidence." 
 
 So saying, he rose, and taking a taper 
 in his hand, which was always burning 
 before an image of the Virgin, in a recess 
 of his apartment, he commanded the 
 Consul to follow ; and opened a small 
 door, concealed at the farther end, in the 
 wainscot. It would be in vain to attempt 
 describing the various tormenting appre- 
 hensions that by turns presented them- 
 selves to the unhappy Consul, as the Prior 
 preceded him through a winding and 
 descending passage, which opened from 
 a deserted ante-room, and led he knew 
 not whither. 
 
 During the time he had been connected 
 in religious worship with the Protestants 
 he had learned many anecdotes, highly 
 coloured, indeed, by the exaggeration of 
 party spirit, which tended to illustrate
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 125 
 
 monastic cruelty, and the contrivances for 
 executing it ; and his imagination pictured 
 nothing less, than that he was about to be 
 consigned to some dungeon, far from the 
 hearing of men, where the torture, under 
 which so many of them had groaned, was 
 to be employed to wrest a confession from 
 him. Nor did the Prior's looks, when he 
 occasionally turned his head to observe 
 if he followed, tend to quiet his fears. 
 
 The passage at length terminated at a 
 grated door, which, on the Prior's touching 
 a spring, opened, and admitted them, 
 instead of a dungeon, into the vault under 
 the chapel, where, ranged in gloomy state, 
 reposed the ashes of those who had, from 
 its foundation, borne sway in the monas- 
 tery. Vidal, who never wiUingly ap- 
 proached the abode of the dead, had but 
 once visited this place, when, presiding 
 over the obsequies of the Baron's son, he 
 
 G 3
 
 126 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 had, by the Prior's direction, ordered him 
 to be placed in the recess he was himself 
 to occupy after death. 
 
 The vault was not of large extent, but 
 its ponderous arches were hid in dark- 
 ness, except where the solitary taper the 
 Prior carried threw a red glare around, 
 and gave a momentary brightness to the 
 damps that trickled down the mouldering 
 walls. The air was cold, and rushed by 
 fits along with a low sad murmur, that 
 might have been mistaken for the moans 
 of the departed ; yet so great was the 
 Consul's terror, that the heat-drops stood 
 on his brow as thick as though he had 
 toiled under a summer's sun. 
 
 The Prior walked on, till they reached 
 the niche where his own mortal remains 
 were destined to lie, and where only the 
 small coffin of a child was now to be seen. 
 He then stopped, and, turning to Vidal,
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LAXGUEDOC. 127 
 
 said, — '• It is now in your power to sa- 
 tisfy the doubts of others. Nineteen 
 years have elapsed since you placed this 
 coffin here. Time has doubtless done his 
 work, and dust has returned to dust ; but 
 there must remain sufficient evidence to 
 convince the most incredulous, that you 
 did not deceive me by a fictitious death : 
 tliere are the instruments at hand, open 
 this coffin before me." 
 
 Vidal still hesitated 
 
 " Have a care," cried the Prior, more 
 sternly, — ** you are in my power, Sir; 
 and I sweai- by St. Francis you escape 
 not till I know the truth." 
 
 ** Then, if you will hear all, you must, 
 my Lord!" exclaimed Vidal, throwing 
 himself on his knees ; and, in trembling 
 accents, he proceeded to relate, that think- 
 ing to gain to the Prior, by this deceit, 
 the rich inheritance which would fall to 
 
 G 4
 
 128 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 him, he had feigned the illness and death 
 of the young Baron, and had caused a 
 wooden figure to be interred in his stead. 
 
 '* I knew you had/* scornfully replied 
 the Prior ; " but it was necessary for me 
 to have the truth from your own lips. And 
 now, miserable wretch ! what do you 
 merit for thus seeking to deceive me ?" 
 
 *' Indeed, your Reverence," cried Vidal, 
 piteously, " I meant no harm — I did all 
 for the best, and " 
 
 ** For the best," repeated the Prior. 
 *' What, I suppose, that you might keep 
 him secreted, as an instrument to force 
 me into compUance with your desireS;, 
 should I ever be inclined to resist them V^ 
 
 ** No, indeed, my Lord," replied the 
 Consul ; " but I thought — I had the same 
 views, I assure you, as yourself, and " 
 
 *' Stop, fool!" exclaimed the Prior, — 
 ** I care not what you thought, so as you
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOURDOC. 129 
 
 do but now obey." He stood for some 
 lime under the archway deeply rumi- 
 nating ; and, in the imperfect light, his 
 spare form and pallid countenance might 
 have led him to be mistaken for an inha- 
 bitant of that gloomy mansion. At length, 
 he advanced to the Consul, and thus ad- 
 dressed him : — *' If I treated you as you 
 most richly deserve, I should give you 
 instantly up to the hand of justice, which 
 has so many claims on you, and avenge 
 my own wrongs, while I made you suffer 
 for those you have inflicted on others; 
 but I am merciful, and, once more, I will 
 give you an opportunity of redeeming the 
 past. It is in vain to attempt cajoling 
 me with an affectation of having practised 
 this treachery for my service ; I know you 
 could have no good end in view ; — even 
 that I will pass by. But it is essentia] 
 that the youth you have concealed should 
 
 O 5
 
 130 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 be immediately placed under my pro- 
 tection. The reasons for this are too 
 numerous to be now detailed ; suffice it, 
 that it is my will. You cannot have 
 trusted him far from you — the deposit was 
 too important. I give you, therefore, 
 three days for the performance of my 
 orders; bring him to me at the end of 
 that time, or never more think of returning 
 lo this country." 
 
 " But," said the Consul, willing, like 
 ^ drowning man, to catch at the slightest 
 twig, " if the young man will not follow 
 
 me, must I employ " 
 
 '' Ask me no questions," sternly replied 
 the Prior: '* my office is to command, 
 yours to find the means of fulfilling my 
 commands. It will be time enough after- 
 wards," he added, with a sneer, " for me 
 to judge of their expediency, and act ac- 
 cordingly."
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 131 
 
 Again he paused, as if waiiting u reply, 
 which, however, he was not likely to 
 receive. ** You may now retire, Monsieur 
 Vidal : let to-morrow's dawn see you on 
 your road, and when we next meet, I hope 
 to be able, in favour of your increased 
 zeal, to forget all your past transgressions." 
 So saying, he conducted the still trembling 
 Consul to the stone steps which led to 
 the chapel above, where he dismissed 
 him, and returned himself by tlie private 
 way to his apartment. 
 
 In thus allotting three days for the ap- 
 pearance of his nephew, the Prior con- 
 suited chiefly his own impatience ; for 
 notwithstanding the confident manner in 
 which he had spoken, he could not but 
 entertain some doubts that Vidal would 
 find it extremely difficult to discover him. 
 If he had always kept an eye on the young 
 man, the task was easy ; if he had not, 
 
 G G
 
 132 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 his exertions in seeking him would be 
 stimulated by fear, and should he fail, he 
 hoped he had at least by his threats 
 secured his absence, without the obligation 
 of coming to such an open breach as he 
 had many reasons for wishing to avoid. 
 
 The Consul, meanwhile, repaired to 
 the stable, where he again mounted his 
 mule, which, as one of the grooms malici- 
 ously observed, seemed better pleased 
 with her entertainment, than her master. 
 In his solitary ride, he had ample leisure 
 to ruminate on the interview just related, 
 and ample food for rumination. Notwith- 
 standing all the swellings of his vanity, 
 and perhaps he possessed more than 
 usually falls to the share of man, he was 
 now forced to confess that an order had 
 been given him, which it was beyond his 
 abilities to fulfil. But while we leave him 
 to prepare for his hopeless expedition, it
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANQUEDOC. 133 
 
 will perhaps be necessary to penetrate 
 into a few of those secret events which 
 reached the Prior's ear, and which Fame, 
 who -condescends to meddle even with the 
 meanest, had not failed to whisper con- 
 fusedly in the neighbourhood of Valie-
 
 134 THE camisard; ok, the 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 When in the garden's fenced and cultured ground, 
 Where browze no flocks, where ploughshares never 
 
 wound. 
 By sunbeams strengthen'd, nourish'd by the show'r. 
 And sooth'd by zephyr, blooms the lovely flower ; 
 Maids long to place it in their modest zone. 
 And youths, enraptur'd, wish it for their own ; 
 But from the stem once pluck'd, in dust it lies. 
 Nor youth, nor maid, will then desire nor prize. 
 The virgin thus her blushing beauty rears, 
 Loved by her kindred, and her young compeers : 
 But if her simple charm, her maiden's grace. 
 Is sullied by one spoiler's rude embrace. 
 Adoring youths no more her steps attend. 
 Nor loving maidens greet the maiden friend. 
 
 Lamb's Catullus. 
 
 While the Baron de Courcy lived happy, 
 respected, and beloved at the castle of 
 Vallerargues, Vidal was as zealous for 
 the Protestant, as he afterwards became 
 for the Roman Catholic faith, and by an
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. 133 
 
 hypocritical affectation of piety and at- 
 tacliment to his religion, insinuated him- 
 self into the good graces of that too cre- 
 dulous nobleman, who possessed too 
 much integrity in his own bosom, to 
 judge how great might be the meanness 
 and duplicity of otliers. He raised him 
 from some menial office in his liouschold 
 to the post of his private secretary, and 
 by this confidence, placed in his hands 
 the very weapons he was afrerwards to 
 turn against his benefactor. 
 
 The Baron's fortunes tottered and fell, 
 and Vidal, who had clung only to them, 
 had for some time perceived what was 
 passing, and been employed, not only in 
 securing himself from danger in the im- 
 pending destruction, but in achieving a 
 more successful destiny out of the ruin 
 of others. He had prevailed on the 
 Baron to employ him as his agent, in
 
 136 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 transacting some important affairs with 
 the Prior of St. Roc, his brother-in-law, 
 and as the Prior had steadfastly rejected 
 all intercourse with his sister or her new 
 connexions, his visits to the priory were 
 frequent. He began his schemes by 
 well-feigned scruples of conscience, and, 
 after a short combat, which was to imply 
 that he yielded only to conviction, en- 
 treated to be admitted into the bosom of 
 the church, though, for a time, his apos- 
 tasy was to be kept secret. 
 
 As the first fruits of such a conversion, 
 he betrayed to the Prior many of the 
 Baron's secret feelings, and gave into 
 his possession several papers, in which 
 he had heedlessly written his inmost 
 thoughts. These became the ground- 
 work for the intrigues, which too fatally 
 suceeded, and ended in procuring his 
 banishment.
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. 137 
 
 Previous to these nefarious transactions, 
 Vidal had gained the affections of a young 
 woman intrusted with the care of the 
 young De Courcy, and who was equally 
 with himself, a favourite of the family. 
 Louise was the daughter of a protestant 
 minister, who, sharing the poverty of his 
 flock, thought himseh' too happy, on her 
 another's death, to procure such a situa- 
 tion for his child, and, without sufficient 
 examination, gave his consent to a union 
 that had been sanctioned by her patrons. 
 He, however, pleaded for some delay, on 
 account of her youth, and in the mean 
 time the order arrived for the Baron's 
 instant departure. — Vidal undertook to 
 prevail on the Prior not immediately to 
 separate the child from one who fek for 
 him the attachment of a second mother, 
 and Louise retired with the infant to her 
 father's house, at a village in the moun-
 
 138 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 tains a few leagues distant. For some 
 time, Vidal continued his visits with the 
 same zeal, still professing the warmest 
 attachment, and bitterly lamenting the 
 many important cares which had devolved 
 on him, and prevented the completion of 
 his happiness. 
 
 But the mask soon became trouble- 
 some, as well as useless. — The unfortu- 
 nate Louise did not conceal his power 
 over her heart, and he profited by the 
 knowledge to betray Acr, whom he should 
 rather have given his life to defend from 
 harm. Vainly did his ivretched victim 
 solicit the performance of his vows, they 
 had been cancelled as soon as he was 
 aware, that poverty was her only portion ; 
 and, to the world, he considered the 
 change in his religion would be a suffi 
 cient reason for declining to connect him- 
 self with the daughter of an heretical
 
 PROTESTANTS OF L.VNO UEDOC. 139 
 
 teacher. While hope remained, she was 
 silent, and for some time brooded over 
 her shame and misery in secret anguish: 
 but when, day after day, she sat at the 
 window, which overlooked tlie road lead- 
 ing from Vallerargues, and listened in 
 vain, with suspended breath and eager 
 ear, to every horse's tread, and bark of 
 village cur, that had formerly announced 
 his approach, her spirit sunk within her, 
 and so deep a melancholy ensued, that 
 life itself became a burden. 
 
 Mons. Brunei, intrusting his child, 
 during his absence, to the care of a 
 woman who possessed too little principle 
 to fulfil her charge conscientiously, had 
 accompanied the Baron de Courcy, his 
 wife, and sister, to Switzerland ; where 
 from his acquaintance with many persons 
 of worth, he hoped to procure them some 
 alleviaiion of their pain. — His return was
 
 140 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 now daily expected, but what a weight of 
 wo awaited him ! The first intelligence 
 he received was, that the Baron*s child 
 had been secretly and mysteriously 
 carried off, and every attempt made for 
 discovering the author of this nefarious 
 deed had proved ineffectual. This seemed 
 an adequate cause for the alteration in 
 Louise's looks, and to account for the 
 dejection of her whole deportment — but it 
 was not all. The blow which appeared 
 to her as coming only from the hand that 
 had already so deeply wounded her peace, 
 completed the overthrow of reason. In 
 the wildness of despair, she rushed one 
 morning into her father's presence, and 
 with frantic incoherence, uttering maledic- 
 tions against the author of her disgrace, 
 poured the last drop of misery into the 
 cup which he was destined to drain to the 
 very dregs.
 
 PU0TESTANT8 OF LANGUEDOC 141 
 
 ^Vhat a confession from a child ! what 
 a hearing for a parent ! But he did not 
 upbraid her ; no, he saw the hand of the 
 Almighty was stretched out against her, 
 and he thanked God, he was not called 
 upon to cast the first stone. He did not 
 seek for vengeance, for he was a Christian ; 
 besides all human vengeance would have 
 been no more than as a drop of water 
 poured upon t[ie fire of his wrongs. But 
 how hard a task remained to be fulfilled. 
 If he was a father, he was a minister also, 
 and the discipline he had sworn to main- 
 tain, was not to be slackened because it 
 was his own right hand that was tol)e 
 cut off: 
 
 It was his duty, as a warning to others, 
 publicly to declare, before the chiefs of 
 his congregation, the offence committed 
 against public morals ; and the following
 
 142 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 Sunday, he ascended the pulpit with this 
 determination. Already were vague whis- 
 pers afloat, and some with sympathy, some 
 with that restless curiosity which feeds 
 itself with pleasure even on the misfor- 
 tunes of others, awaited the confirmation 
 of their suspicions. To all, the wretched 
 father was alike insensible ; he hoped, he 
 feared, nothing more. Who would he 
 have found ready to receive as an excuse, 
 that while he watched over their present 
 and eternal interests, the child of his love, 
 whose heart, like a luxuriant soil, pro- 
 duced weeds and flowers in wild pro- 
 fusion, had been neglected ; that the per- 
 petually recurring duties of a parent were 
 left undone, while his rapt soul seemed 
 almost to have forsaken its mortal taber- 
 nacle in the sublimity of devotional feel- 
 ings. He felt he had erred, but it was
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 143 
 
 before his Creator he humbled himself, 
 for *' He seeth not as man sccth, kind 
 judgetli not as man judgeth." 
 
 Never had his prayers been more fer- 
 vent than on this day of anguish ; never 
 had he more forcibly touched the hearts 
 of his hearers, than when liis own was 
 thus rent with sorrow : even the aged, 
 who seemed to have outlived the relief of 
 tears, felt the unbidden drops trickle down 
 their weatherbeaten cheeks : his voice 
 was firm, his cheek was pale, but his eye 
 glared with unwonted fire ; for he knew 
 that mercy was boundless m its power. 
 But one glance at the bench below was 
 sufficient to convince him that though 
 transgression may be forgiven, it mu^t 
 never go unpunished. Tlie Elders fol- 
 lowed the direction of the father's eye. 
 What a sight they beheld ! His Louise, 
 the pride, the joy of his life, tlie sunshine
 
 144 THE CAMISA.RD; OR, THE 
 
 in which all his hopes had bloomed, the 
 soother of his cares, the comfort of his 
 years of widowhood, sat there, uncon-. 
 scious of what was passing ; her looks 
 w^andering around with unmeaning indif- 
 ference, and at times a vacant smile 
 mocking her own woe. This was the 
 criminal he was to condemn to igno- 
 miny ! this was the fallen one against 
 whom he was to point the finger of scorn ! 
 The last psalm was sung, the last echo 
 died away ; — in that awful silence, he de- 
 scended the pulpit steps, and while his 
 heart bled within him, made the dreadful 
 truth known. But nature spent her 
 strength in the effort, and he was carried 
 out of the church in strong convulsions. 
 The assembly followed sorrowing ; all 
 bitterness died away within them, or was 
 changed into compassion and regret. 
 It was long before the Pastor recovered
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. \A:'> 
 
 the shock his mind had received, and 
 during the time that sickness prevented 
 his personal watchfulness, Louise, alive 
 only to a sense of her misfortunes, with 
 a cunning not uncommon in those whose 
 minds are similarly affected, had left her 
 father's house, and found her way to Val- 
 lerargues, where her betrayer resided in 
 ease and comparative opulence. She 
 reached the village late one stormy even- 
 ing: Vidal sat by his blazing fire, and 
 though guarded by every precaution from 
 the cold, he shuddered as the tempestuous 
 wind swept round his house, or moaned 
 in the wide old-fashioned chimney. 
 Louise softly lifled the latch, and entered, 
 her hair dripping, her clothes drenched 
 with rain, and her face pale with sorrow. 
 The terrified maid, who was preparing 
 supper, ran screaming up stairs, at the 
 sight of what, she doubted not, was tlie 
 
 VOL. 1. II
 
 146 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 perturbed spirit of one who had died in 
 guilt or despair^ while the no less terrified 
 master, too conscious it was a living suf- 
 ferer stood before him, endeavoured to 
 collect courage to address her. 
 
 But why should we stop to relate mi- 
 nutely the arts of villany, or the wrongs 
 of a being too obscure to excite the 
 world's attention? Louise, with the elo- 
 quence of a broken heart, that might have 
 moved a savage to relent, pleaded his 
 promises, and called at least for justice, 
 bitterly complaining of the last cruelty, 
 that had deprived her of her only remain- 
 ing treasure. The rage of Vidal, when at 
 length, through the incoherence of her ex- 
 pressions, he gathered that the Baron's 
 child was lost, was too violent and too 
 sincere, to leave any doubt as to his 
 ignorance of the fact; and when he 
 found no clue could be given, by means 
 
 i
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. 147 
 
 of which he should be enabled to com- 
 mence a search for its recovery, it turned 
 with increased fury on the unhappy 
 Louise, on whom he determined to wreak 
 his vengeance, by taking advantage of 
 the state to which his perfidy had reduced 
 her. 
 
 Under pretence of a strict adherence 
 to the laws for the preservation of mo- 
 rality, she was confined for the night in 
 the common prison, and the next day, 
 publicly whipped from the village, while 
 the hootings of the populace, and clamours 
 of the drums, drowned the voice of com- 
 plaint, and, as he hoped, secured him 
 from the opprobrium due to his cruelty. 
 
 Even in the disordered state of her 
 mind, such a disgrace could not be borne 
 without anguish. No sooner was she 
 released, than Louise fled, but it was not 
 taher father's home. The goading sense
 
 148 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 of shame drove her incessantly onward ; 
 and as it is difficult to trace the paths of 
 misery, it would be hard to say what 
 distant spots witnessed her bodily and 
 mental sufferings. 
 
 After many years had elapsed, there 
 appeared among the mountains nearest 
 her native village a poor maniac, in whose 
 worn and haggard features some imagined 
 they could trace a faint resemblance to 
 the rosy dimpled cheeks and laughing 
 eyes of the once lovely Louise ; but all 
 attempts to reconcile her again to a settled 
 life were vain, and as her unhappy father 
 was generally supposed to be dead, she 
 was left to follow the wild vagaries of her 
 fancy, and to enjoy that liberty which is 
 the only comfort such wretchedness can 
 feel. 
 
 As the name of her seducer had not 
 been made public with her fault, only
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 149 
 
 vague surmises of the truth existed : 
 Vidal's authority silenced open scrutiny 
 and the expression of avowed suspicion. 
 Whether he was equally successful in 
 silencing the voice of conscience, his 
 sleepless nights or terrifying dreams best 
 witnessed. 
 
 After vainly endeavouring, by every 
 means compatible with secrecy, to disco- 
 ver the child, he was compelled to delude 
 the Prior by a feigned account of its 
 death, and till the present moment hugged 
 himself in the success of his deceit. But 
 the command he had just received from 
 the Prior put an end to this satisfaction. 
 The total ignorance he was in respecting 
 the person who could have betrayed this 
 deception now increased his perplexity, 
 and it was impossible that he should con- 
 ceal from himself the difficulties with 
 which he was surrounded. How could 
 
 H 3
 
 150 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 he expect to be more successful in his 
 search, now that the lapse of so many 
 years had, if possible, still more completely 
 obliterated every trace that might have 
 guided his inquiries? How could he 
 hope so quickly to find the unhappy 
 vagrant he had driven from the world? 
 And if found, could he bear the anguish 
 of her looks — could he dare, in his dis- 
 tress, to supplicate one to whom he had 
 refused all pity? Yet this seemed the 
 only course to be pursued ; and recollect- 
 ing the last faint information he had 
 casually received, of the usual places of 
 appearance of the poor mad woman that 
 frequented the mountains, he determined 
 to bend his course thither, and to try both 
 threats and entreaties to induce her to 
 give him all the information respecting the 
 child's disappearance that she might be 
 possessed of. Indeed, he had always
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. Ijl 
 
 found it difficult to efface from his mind 
 the idea, that Louise and her father had 
 themselves concealed him, to avoid the 
 interference of his uncle in his reUgion 
 and future prospects. 
 
 It will not appear strange, that with a 
 mind thus unpleasantly occupied, the 
 Consul abstained from fulfilling his en- 
 gagement that evening with Leah Coste, 
 especially as that lady had always testi- 
 fied a large portion of female curiosity 
 concerning every thing that related to 
 Louise, and that even while writhing 
 under the torture of her questions and re- 
 marks, he dared not own the pain they 
 gave him. 
 
 The sun had not yet appeared above 
 the high range of hills that lay to the east 
 of Vallerargues, when Simon, who had 
 been ordered the preceding evening to be 
 in readiness, apjx^ared at the Consul's
 
 152 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 door, where he fastened the mule, and en- 
 tered the kitchen, to try the hospitality of 
 the kind-hearted Perrette. Already was 
 this notable damsel in the height of her 
 employments. On the raised hearth, 
 where a sprightly fire burned, was placed 
 a large earthen pot, heating in the glowing 
 embers, and containing soup for the break- 
 fast of three or four countrymen who were 
 employed in the Consul's m^tairie. A 
 small lamp, suspended by a hook near 
 the chimney, was expending its last sup- 
 ply, and as it died away occasionally 
 threw its broad light on the smutty ceiling, 
 from whose well-stored rafters one of the 
 men was taking down some dried sausages 
 to store their wallets for the day ; another 
 from a large barrel filled the cased bottles 
 with wine, which he ever and anon put to 
 his lips, with a rueful face, declaring he 
 should have mistaken it for vinegar;
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. 163 
 
 while a third repaired to an oaken chest 
 that stood in the corner, and cut slices of 
 brown bread for the soup, which was now 
 reeking and ready. 
 
 Perrette, meanwhile, bustled about 
 with a smile and a goodnatured word to 
 each, and taking the savoury mess of 
 lentils from the fire, proceeded to fill each 
 expectant's plate. This was a sight and 
 an odour that strongly tempted Simon, 
 whose scanty meals at home usually left 
 him ready to do honour to any feast that 
 might afterwards fall in his way. So, 
 with one of his most persuasive looks, 
 addressing Perrette, he begged a share, 
 protesting her cooking to be so excellent, 
 it gave an appetite but to think of it. 
 
 " Hunger is your sauce, I beheve. 
 Master Simon," replied the damsel to this 
 compliment; " but what will our master 
 say .'" 
 
 H 5
 
 154 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 " Oh, never fear," replied Simon, " I 
 am before my time ; and I warrant him 
 yet fast asleep in his bed," he added, as 
 he held out his plate. 
 
 " Well," said Perrette, " you must bear 
 the blame, if blame fall ; but as to his 
 being asleep, that I'll take upon me to say 
 he has not been all night, and has asked 
 for you three times already." 
 
 *' Nay, then^ my good Perrette," replied 
 Simon, " it becomes me to make the more 
 speed ; and suiting his actions to his 
 words, he poured large spoonfuls of the 
 pottage down his throat, with a rapidity 
 that astonished those who saw the small 
 capacity of his meagre jaws. He had 
 scarcely time lo wipe the tell-tale remains 
 from his mouth when Vidal appeared, 
 wrapped in his roquelaire, a well-loaded 
 whip in his hand, his pistols hanging 
 from a broad leathern belt, and a capa-
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. IJO 
 
 cious pair of saddle bags across his arm. 
 While these were fixing on the mule, the 
 Consul gave his last orders to his domes- 
 tics, and then seating himself in his high- 
 peaked saddle, he ambled out of the vil- 
 lage, followed by Simon, who, however, 
 lingered long enough to hear many fervent 
 wishes for their master's long absence, 
 and to receive from the hand of the 
 obliging Perrette a remnant of black 
 pudding, which he stutFed into the pocket 
 of his doublet. 
 
 The Consul was much too perturbed 
 for conversation, and Simon much too 
 delighted to be set free, for an indetinite 
 period, from the tuition of his spouse, to 
 desire any other pleasure. As the morn- 
 ing was cold, he had tied a large hand- 
 kerchief entirely over his head and face, 
 leaving only one eye uncovered to pick 
 his steps. In this state of happy, thought - 
 
 H G
 
 156 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 less enjoyment, he might have travelled 
 the livelong day, if the thundering voice 
 of his master, exclaiming " Who goes 
 there?" had not reached his ears; when, 
 pulling down his shade, he heard the 
 sounds of a hautboy, and perceived a 
 young man, who was playing a plaintive 
 air, as he advanced along the road they 
 were pursuing. 
 
 "Who goes there?" repeated Vidal; 
 but the musician appeared to pay no at- 
 tention to the summons. 
 
 It was Isidore returning from accom- 
 panying the Pilgrim, and who was too 
 much engrossed with the remembrances 
 his own music called forth to break the 
 charm abruptly. Vidal quickly recognised 
 him, and his evil tempers, which had 
 sprung from many various subjects of dis- 
 quietude, now centred on this unexpected 
 cause of provocation. <
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 1.07 
 
 " Young man, stop your vile piping," 
 he cried, *' my mule cannot stand it ;" 
 and he gave her a sharp prick with his 
 spur, to induce her to make good his 
 words. His passion rendered this sharper 
 than he intended, and the mule, whose 
 accustomed sobriety gave little expecta- 
 tion of such friskiness, began to kick and 
 plunge, while Vidal, who was not much 
 celebrated as an equestrian, found his 
 anger increase in proportion with his fears. 
 
 " Young man," he exclaimed again, 
 with fury, *' stop that cursed piping, or by 
 St. Francis, I'll make you sing to it ;" and 
 lie raised his whip over his head in a 
 threatening attitude. 
 
 Isidore paused. *' Have a care, M. 
 Vidal,' he said, ** lest while you threaten 
 I should act. I am not inclined to stand 
 tamely and be struck by any man, much 
 less by one "
 
 158 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 " What do you mean, sirrah!" cried 
 Vidal ; "do you know who I am, and 
 who you are ?" 
 
 *' Yes," replied Isidore, " I know you 
 well, and therefore I am the less inclined 
 to fear you. But I advise you," he 
 added, *' to suffer me to pass without 
 opposition," perceiving the Consul had 
 placed his mule in such a manner across 
 the narrow road as to effectually prevent 
 his further progress. 
 
 . " I shall let you pass when I please, 
 and not till then," retorted the Consul, 
 '' and that will not be until you have sa- 
 tisfied me how it happens, that you are 
 at a place so distant from Vallerargues 
 at such an unsuitable hour. I have an 
 eye on you, young man, and I am not 
 without my suspicions, I can assure 
 you." 
 
 Isidore made a strong effort to answer
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGL'LDOC. 159 
 
 him with composure, and briefly explained 
 tlie cause of his nocturnal ramble. 
 
 "Ay, ay," replied Vidal, "one may 
 judge of a man by his company ; that old 
 beggar should have been in the galleys 
 long since, and I doubt not but he would 
 only have returned to his old lodgings. 
 I never could endure his crazy flights and 
 hypocritical cantings. Where is his 
 hiding-place now ?" 
 
 Isidore declared himself ignorant of it, 
 as they had parted on the road. 
 
 " A likely story that you have trumped 
 up for me," said Vidal; " but I am not 
 to be blinded by a spider's web. Tell 
 nie this moment where he is, or you shall 
 answer in a place where you may be 
 forced to speak the truth." 
 
 " Do you doubt my word ?" exclaimed 
 Isidore, indignantly. 
 
 *' Yes," cried the Consul, " and twenty
 
 160 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 such words and oaths as yours, which 
 can be bought for a livre." 
 
 *' Retract that base aspersion," ex- 
 claimed Isidore, " or- *' 
 
 " Or what?" said Vidal, with contempt, 
 and again brandishing his whip. " I say 
 you were a sect of liars from the begin- 
 ning, and never will I cease my efforts 
 till your presence no longer pollutes the 
 country." 
 
 He had barely time to utter the last 
 words; for Isidore, springing forward 
 with an impetuosity he did not expect, 
 considering the inequality of their posi- 
 tions, seized his uplifted whip with one 
 hand, and with the other the bridle of the 
 affrighted mule, who, rising on her hind 
 legs, flung the infuriated Consul to the 
 ground. Rage almost choked him, but 
 instantly drawing a pistol from his beh, 
 he fired it at his antagonist. Happily his
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 101 
 
 aim was unsteady ; the ball grazed Isi- 
 dore's cloak, but the report sobered him. 
 He had been led by momentary passion 
 to commit an action which his calmer 
 reason condemned ; and the whole affair 
 had passed so rapidly, that no time was 
 left for retlection. But he now perceived 
 what serious consequences might have 
 followed, and he heartily repented his 
 having been led so soon to disregard the 
 advice of his aged friend. Without stop- 
 ping to demand or offer any apology, he 
 passed quickly on, and in his haste nar- 
 rowly escaped stumbling over the terrified 
 Simon, whom the report of the pistol had 
 stretched along the road. 
 
 It was not long before Vidal rose, and 
 vented his impotent and inhuman rage by 
 severe blows on the head and sides of the 
 unhappy mule. Nor did the luckless 
 Simon escape some portion of his wrath ;
 
 162 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 while the sound lashes bestowed on his 
 back drew forth pretty loud symptoms of 
 life from the inanimate 'Squire. 
 
 " You sneaking, trembling coward," 
 cried Vidal, " is this the way you stand 
 by, and see your master murdered by 
 a ruffian?'* 
 
 " You cannot accuse me of standing, 
 master, I think," replied Simon, piteously, 
 " for my legs seemed to fail me all at 
 once ; and, to tell you the truth, I judged 
 it best to keep quiet and see fair play, 
 and be ready to come to your help when 
 the mischief was over. I cannot think 
 voud have fared the better, if I had come 
 in for my share; and," he added, rub- 
 bing his shoulder, '' share before and 
 share after is too much for any man. But 
 I'll run after the villain, if your honour's 
 willing." 
 
 ** No, no," replied Vidal, '' you*d ask
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOURDOC. 103 
 
 no better; and when should I see you 
 again, I wonder? No, — I can catch him 
 when I please; and may I never cross 
 my threshold again if my revenge do not 
 follow him." 
 
 *' He'll have a sweet time of it then," 
 muttered Simon to himself *' You're a 
 hard man to your friends, methinks ; 
 what must you be to your foes ?" 
 
 " What are you saying there, scoun- 
 drel ?' exclaimed Vidal. 
 
 '* Nothing, Sir," replied Simon ; " 1 
 was only thinking I would not be in his 
 skin for something. But I see the girth 
 is broken in your fall — your quick way, I 
 mean, of getting off the mule's back." 
 
 The Consul was vexed to discover this 
 addition to his misfortune ; but as, luckily, 
 Simon produced a cord from his pocket, 
 the mischief was soon remedied, and they 
 proceeded on their journey, though some- 
 what discomposed by the a(lv('ntur(\
 
 164 THE CAMISA.RD; OR, THB 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 He preferred me 
 
 Above the maidens of my age and rank, 
 
 Still shunned their company, and still sought mine ; 
 
 I was not won by gifts, yet still he gave, 
 
 And all his gifts, though small, yet spoke his love. 
 
 He picked the earliest strawberries in the woods. 
 
 The cluster'd filberts, and the purple grapes. 
 
 He taught a prating stare to speak my name, 
 
 And when he found a nest of nightingales 
 
 Or callow lionets, he would show 'em me. 
 
 And let me take 'em out. 
 
 Drydbn. 
 
 Isidore pursued the road which led to 
 the village, with quick steps, to prevent, 
 if possible, the uneasy reflections that 
 obtruded themselves from resting in his 
 mind, and he reached his home, just as 
 the inhabitants were about to commence
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGURDOC. 165 
 
 the various labours of the day. Made- 
 line seemed on this morning actuated by 
 unusual curiosity; she was standing at 
 her door, apparendy listening to the gos- 
 sip of an old crony, but with her eye 
 turned towards the way she expected her 
 son, and on his first appeamnro, broke 
 away with the acrnstonned apology '' ex- 
 cusas aumen," though her friend loudly 
 vociferated that the best part of the story 
 was to come. 
 
 Her questions were numerous, and of 
 various in their nature, that it was diffi- 
 cult to arrange suitable replies with ade- 
 (|uate celerity. They chiefly turned on 
 what had passed between him and Father 
 Bernardine, which he found himself in- 
 clined to relate with some degree of 
 reserve and circumspection ; and perhaps 
 this caution, which he was sometimes 
 forced to adopt, was the severest trial the
 
 166 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 good woman had to meet with from a son 
 who studied her comfort and happiness in 
 every particular ; but Isidore was too 
 clear-sighted not to perceive that his 
 mother, amidst her many excellent qua- 
 lities, was fond of having secrets trusted 
 to her, and, at the same time, was too 
 anxious to keep them safe, not to be occa- 
 sionally, though unintentionally, indis- 
 creet. It was always with the greatest 
 delicacy he eluded her questions, but still 
 he did elude them, and Madeline was too 
 much piqued to notice his manner. On 
 the present occasion, she could not refrain 
 from some lamentations at her hard fate, 
 in having but one child, and he so re- 
 served, that he might as well be deaf and 
 dumb, for all the information she could 
 gather from him, and she turned away to 
 hide her vexation. Isidore saw her brow 
 overclouding, and Her looks saddening,
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOIIBDOC. 107 
 
 and though he could not but consider the 
 effect as a little disproportioned to the 
 cause, yet he remembered it was the same 
 face, now wrinkled and worn with care 
 and toil, whose smiles had been, in his 
 childhood, the sweetest sight his eye 
 beheld ; and putting his arm round her 
 neck, with a kiss of the warmest affec- 
 tion, he reminded her, that he had left 
 the village the preceding evening, and 
 had neither tasted food nor repose since 
 then. 
 
 " Not ate nor slept since, my poor boy," 
 cried the mother, forgetting every subject 
 of displeasure in her anxiety, " what a 
 barbarous creature you must take me for, 
 to stand gossipping here, and forget your 
 breakfast ; come quickly, the fire shall be 
 made up and every thing ready in a few 
 minutes. Poor boy! to stand so pa- 
 tiently — what could I be thinking of? we'll
 
 168 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 talk of all this another time, for I am sure 
 the old father had something very import- 
 ant to say to you.'* 
 
 Isidore protested he had made him no 
 communication whatever, but the good 
 woman shook her head, and looked at him 
 with an incredulous air yet ; absorbed in 
 the task of providing for his wants, she 
 soon forgot the object of her inquiries, in 
 the necessary preparation for their frugal 
 morning^s meal. What Isidore chiefly 
 desired to conceal from his mother, was 
 the caution given him by the Pilgrim, to 
 be on his guard against Vidal, as well as 
 his subsequent meeting with the Consul, 
 who, feared and disliked by all the village, 
 seemed always to impose a particular 
 dread on old Madeline ; and the enmity 
 known to exist between him and her son 
 had given rise to so many remonstrances, 
 on her part, that he was always careful to 
 
 J
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC 169 
 
 avoid even the mention of Vidal's name 
 in her presence. 
 
 The causes of difference between the 
 Consul and Isidore, were by no means a 
 secret in the Httle circle in which they 
 moved. The admiration of the former 
 lor Rose la Porte, the Pastor's daughter, 
 had long been as much talked of in Valle- 
 rargues, as he desired it should be, and 
 accustomed to overcome difficulties in his 
 progress against the stream, which seemed 
 to oppose his rise from insignificance, he 
 was little disposed to doubt of success, or 
 to remember that petty cabals, the arts of 
 intrigue, effrontery and impudence, tliough 
 they may fill a man's purse, are not al- 
 ways the best means of subduing a fair 
 lady's heart. The feelings of Isidore 
 were perhaps less known, but secrecy is 
 not long in the power of a lover, since his 
 looks and actions arc continually ready 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE camisard; or, thb 
 
 to betray him. Indeed it was scarcely 
 possible for a young man of his turn of 
 character to be indifferent to Rose. It 
 was not her beauty alone that distin- 
 guished her, but the perpetual sunshine 
 of her smiles, which subdued even the 
 most morose ; it was not the useful even 
 tenor of her life, which is usually more 
 esteemed than admired, but the feminine 
 grace that displayed itself in her most 
 trifling actions, and the perfect acquies- 
 cence of her will, at the call of every 
 duty, so far superior to the forced com- 
 pliance, that gives pain while it appears 
 to endeavour to please; — there was a 
 harmony in her character, which while it 
 prevented any one quality from predomi- 
 nating too much, proved the existence of 
 a powerful principle within, that guided 
 and regulated all ; and she who enlivened 
 the gaiety of the cheerful, could share
 
 PBOTESTANTS OF LANOUBDOO. 171 
 
 equally without appearance of affectation 
 or constraint the tears and complaints of 
 the mourner. Though distant, and even 
 timid, in the common intercourse of 
 society, she could calmly support her own 
 •Jignity, and maintain her independence, 
 whenever the exertion was necessary. 
 Religion had not rendered her perfect, 
 but its effect was everywhere visible, and 
 m nothing more, than in the cro^sTiing 
 grace of humility, which softened every 
 attraction. La Porte, who loved his child 
 with the affection of a father towards an 
 only daughter, felt an indescribable mix- 
 ture of tenderness and anxiety, as he 
 fondly gazed upon her, and reflected that, 
 according to the ordinary laws of human 
 life, he could not hope for many years to 
 watch over his treasure ; tears of appre- 
 hension would roll down his aged cheeks, 
 ana his busy imagination imbitter the 
 
 I t
 
 1'5'2 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 present with painful foresight into the 
 future. 
 
 His wife, whose affection was perhaps 
 equally warm, though less anxious, looked 
 upon this as a weakness, and notwith- 
 standing her respect for her husband, 
 sometimes hinted, that such divings into 
 futurity implied a distrust of the care or 
 the power of Providence ; and was par- 
 ticularly eloquent on the subject, when 
 Mons. la Porte, from a timidity he could 
 not master, and which argument only 
 served to increase, from day to day, put 
 off taking such notice of Vidal's preten- 
 sions as must be followed by their final 
 rejection ; still hoping that circumstances 
 would give him the resolution, he should 
 have sought in the sense of doing what 
 was right. Not that he was less averse 
 than herself to any connexion with a 
 man so devoid of principle, but he was
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANQUEDOC. 173 
 
 more aware of the lengths to which his 
 villany could carry him, and of the many 
 points in which, as a minister and a 
 father, he was vulnerable. These fears 
 also deterred him from giving much en- 
 couragement to young Isidore, for whom 
 his regard was sincere, and in this cir- 
 cumspection his wife perfectly agreed 
 with him, though her motive was different. 
 Even the best of women have some 
 share of a mother's pride ; and Madame 
 la Porte, who daily witnessed the supe- 
 riority of her daughter to the other young 
 females around, would have warmly re- 
 monstrated against a union, which would 
 degrade her daughter to the level of a 
 peasant, when she aimed at raising her 
 even above her rank and fortune, and had 
 planned, as far as a wife can plan, whose 
 utmost liberty is circumscribed by this 
 proviso — " if my husband gives me leave/ 
 
 1 8
 
 174 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THB 
 
 to take her on a visit to her relations at 
 Geneva, ** and we shall see," thought 
 the good lady, ** if Monsieur Vidal or 
 Monsieur Isidore will think of following 
 us there." 
 
 Such ideas as these occupied this 
 worthy couple one evening, as they sat 
 over the fire in that mood of listlessness 
 which allows every fancy to occupy the 
 mind in its turn. " I was thinking, my 
 dear," at length began Monsieur la Porte, 
 " of a proposal that good lady made me 
 to-day." 
 
 " What good lady, my dear T'* replied 
 his wife, — knowing very well all the time 
 who was meant. 
 
 " Madame Durand, I should say, who 
 wishes us to allow Rose to pass a short 
 time with her this summer, when she pur- 
 poses making a little tour in the Moun- 
 tains."
 
 PmOTKSTANTS OF LANODEDOC. 175 
 
 " I see nothing very good in that," 
 said Madame la Porte ; '' Rose is a plea- 
 sant companion, and I know many who 
 would be glad of her company." 
 
 "Indeed!" replied the Pastor, " 1 
 wonder you never told me so ; but it wa^ 
 not for that reason I called her good. I 
 am not in general liberal of compliments, 
 and you may therefore give me credit 
 when I say a civil thing." 
 
 ** I don't question your discernment, 
 my dear," replied Madame la Porte ; 
 " but I don't exactly see that is a reason 
 for my being deprived of my daughter.'' 
 
 " Remember for how short a time is the 
 deprivation," he replied. 
 
 " Besides," said his wife, " I might 
 have been spoken to on the subject before 
 It had gone so far." 
 
 " And am not I Rose's father," said 
 M. la Porte, a little surprised at the air 
 
 I 4
 
 176 THE CAMISARD f OR, THE 
 
 of pique visible in her countenance, and 
 which so rarely appeared there. 
 
 " To be sure," she replied : *' but the 
 world is apt to imagine that mothers 
 should also be consulted." 
 
 " Indeed, my dear," said M. la Porte, 
 smiling, ** if it were a proposal of marriage, 
 more form might have been requisite, 
 but such a simple request did not appear 
 to me to demand it." 
 
 " Men never can see impropriety in 
 trifles," replied Madame la Porte ; " but 
 Leah Coste has already said to me, that 
 I am looked upon as a mere nobody by 
 this stranger, and as I am your wife, that 
 should never be." 
 
 " And never will, my dear," replied 
 her husband, affectionately, ** as long as 
 your virtues and many excellent qualities 
 are known and properly estimated ; but 
 I should have thought a woman of your
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUBDOC. 177 
 
 good sense would be above listening to 
 such frivolous remarks. Have you any 
 other objection to start to my proposal?" 
 
 ** Why, to tell you the truth," said 
 Madame la Porte, " I could have got over 
 Madame Durand's not asking me, but I 
 have written to my cousin Dumont, that 
 I have some hopes of seeing her this 
 summer ; Rose is old enough to be intro- 
 duced into the world, and to judge of 
 things for herself" 
 
 ** And did you also tell your cousin 
 you had my consent ?" inquired the 
 husband. 
 
 " No, indeed," said the lady — ** How 
 could I, when I had not even asked it; 
 but I told her there were such good rea- 
 sons for wishing the journey to take place, 
 that I had not the least doubt you would 
 be as anxious for it as myself" 
 
 '* I am sorry," replied La Porte, cahnly, 
 
 I s
 
 178 THE CAMISARD; or, THfi 
 
 ** you have done so, because it lets your 
 cousin see we sometimes differ as to what 
 are good reasons." 
 
 ** But surely, my dear," said the lady, 
 ** when I have gone so far, you will not, 
 for the sake of a stranger, oblige me to 
 unsay every thing, and let my own family 
 think me only a cipher in the house." 
 
 " My dear," he replied, " I would do a 
 great deal to preserve your credit, but, 
 unfortunately, in the present case I have 
 gone farther than you ; your promise was 
 only conditional, I have promised uncon- 
 ditionally, as they say the law of a hus- 
 band is like that of the Modes and 
 Persians. Mention this to your cousin, 
 Dumont; — if, as I doubt not, she is a 
 dutiful wife, she will instantly see the 
 reasonableness and force of the excuse ; 
 if she does not, it is a bad sign, and you 
 and Rose are far better at home."
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUBDOC. 
 
 179 
 
 Madame la Porte knew opposition to 
 be vain, but she always took the liberty 
 of remonstrating, lest the privilege should 
 become obsolete from disuse. She there- 
 fore continued — " All you say is very 
 true ; but sometimes your mind is so much 
 occupied with matters of importance, that 
 you overlook what is passing around you, 
 and while Rose remains in this village, 
 that young Isidore will still have free 
 access to her, and Leah Coste almost told 
 me, in plain terms, that the world begins 
 to talk." 
 
 " And who can prevent it," said M. la 
 Porte, " as long as there are any listeners 
 left? If you, my dear, would give no en- 
 couragement to such as Mademoiselle 
 Coste, we should not be teazed with its 
 remarks: the repeaters of scandal are 
 about as disagreeable as the inventors. 
 It is not my intention to lock up my 
 
 I tt
 
 180 THE CAMISARI); OR, THE 
 
 daughter: if people are so good as to 
 interpret the young man's looks, I am not 
 obliged to receive their interpretation, 
 unless he authorises me ; and I don't 
 think you can say he has at any time be- 
 haved in a manner that could call for the 
 slightest rebuke." 
 
 " No, indeed," said his wife ; " he is 
 a very modest, discreet youth, — wonder- 
 fully so, considering where he was brought 
 up." 
 
 *' In a cottage as well as in a palace, 
 my dear," replied M. la Porte, " we may 
 sometimes find refinement of mind and 
 manner; but, in the present case, you 
 forget the instruction he has received from 
 me, and that in classical literature, also, 
 he is as well versed as many who have 
 passed some years at the university." 
 
 " Yes," continued the lady, " I grant 
 all he owes to you ; though, by the way
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 181 
 
 I have often thought it a waste of learning, 
 and that he could handle the plough as 
 well as if he had never heard of Horace 
 and Virgil, and a hundred more of their 
 companions. But I never can believe," 
 she continued, drawing herself up with 
 much dignity, '' that you design our child, 
 the grandaughter of an elder of respecta- 
 bility, great-grand aughter of a rector of 
 the college, and so well connected both 
 on the father's and mother's side, to throw 
 herself away upon a peasant-boy." 
 
 " Madame la Porte," he replied, with 
 some impatience, "it is extremely un- 
 pleasant to me to be asked what I mean 
 to do, before I have made up my own 
 mind; but you forget this peasant, as 
 you call him, is not a day-labourer, and 
 that when a man has house, food, and 
 raiment, without depending on any one, 
 he is not to be despised by a poor pastor's
 
 182 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 daughter. However, I beg the subject 
 may be dropt, and that you will take care 
 Rose, who is much too young to think of 
 such things, may be so well employed, 
 that ideas of marriage and courtship shall 
 not enter her head." 
 
 " I would most willingly obey you," 
 she replied, ** but I fear the mischief is 
 already done ; for Leah Coste " 
 
 *' Always that woman's name," cried 
 her husband : " it is a sound of ill omen 
 to me, and I never hear it but I expect 
 some disaster to follow. Well! what 
 has she done now ?" 
 
 •' Oh, nothing," replied Madame la 
 Porte, wishing she could retract her 
 words, " only, in a joking way, she gave 
 some little hints. I believe she had tried 
 to sound Rose before on the subject, but 
 poor Rose could not understand her. 
 About a month back, Isidore was here
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGOBDOC. 183 
 
 one evening, waiting for you. and Rose 
 came in with Leah, from a visit to a sick 
 neighbour, looking very confused, and, I 
 must say, very beautiful. I did not know 
 what was going on, for I sat in a rather 
 dark corner reading, but whenever 1 
 looked up I perceived Isidore stammer- 
 ing and colouring like a fool, whenever 
 he spoke. Rose hanging down her head, 
 and Leah now and then giving one of her 
 significant hems, looking very knowing, 
 and turning her little black eyes, first on 
 one and then on the other yet ; I should 
 never have suspected what it meant, if 
 it had not struck me how like the young 
 people were to you and I, my dear, when 
 we used to sit a little behind my poor 
 father's own chair, and he thought we were 
 listening to what he was reading out of 
 some huge black book, that set every one 
 L-lse in the room asleep. The moment I
 
 ]84 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 guessed anything, I sent Rose into the 
 garden, where, after the others went away, 
 I found the poor thing crying as if her 
 heart would break, but she tried to hide it 
 from me. However, she at last owned 
 that her distress arose from Leah Coste's 
 endeavouring to persuade her, that she 
 knew she was in love with Isidore ; and 
 this vexed her so much, she could with 
 difficulty be comforted. You know you 
 remarked her eyes were red at supper, 
 for she had never ceased crying, though 
 I endeavoured to convince her, that Isi- 
 dore would never be so presuming as to 
 think of what must be so displeasing to 
 her parents.'* 
 
 " And this," said Mons. la Porte, '* you 
 women call joking! Among the lesser 
 pests of society, the first rank should be 
 assigned to those female tattlers, who, 
 after the age of coquetry is passed with
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANQUKDOC 185 
 
 themselves, go about to raise the expec- 
 tations and disturb the imaginations of 
 those, who, without their aid, might re- 
 main some years longer in unaffected 
 simplicity. I need not have said, those 
 who are too old to be coquettes, for that 
 is an indetinite period ; and I have been 
 disgusted with the same practice in a 
 bevy of young women, who get together 
 to whisper of their admirers, and disclaim, 
 and deny, and hint, and suspect, pretend- 
 ing shame and anger, yet never suffering 
 the delightful topic to flag. It is such 
 companions that give the first tarnish to 
 female bashfulness, and the blushing con- 
 sciousness that often mantles on the cheek, 
 is not always the livery of innocence. I 
 would give something if such kindlers of 
 mischief under pretence of amusement, 
 were marked by public contempt, and 
 that no young woman could hear of love, 
 but as an honourable passion, which.
 
 186 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 under proper regulations, it was no dis- 
 grace either to inspire or return. How- 
 ever the evil is done, and poor Rose must 
 pay the penalty, for the indiscretion of 
 thismeddling busybody. This still fur- 
 ther confirms me in the pleasure with 
 which I agreed to Madame Durand's 
 proposal: under her care, at least, she 
 will be removed from vulgar arts and 
 insinuations, and as to the rest, it is not 
 necessary to come to any determination. 
 So, my dear, good night, and remember 
 what I have said." 
 
 Madame la Porte felt the truth of his 
 remarks, and was silent ; — an example of 
 discretion, that deserves to be generally 
 followed. 
 
 According to the Pastor's promise. 
 Rose became Madame Durand's guest 
 and when more acquainted with that lady, 
 enjoyed all the pleasures and advantages 
 her society was formed to bestow, and to
 
 PROTBSTA.NTS OP LANGUEDOC. 187 
 
 which Rose was peculiarly alive. Some 
 minds have an instinctive preference for 
 refinement, and cannot even be at ease 
 with vulgarity ; this she had frequently 
 felt, among such companions of her own 
 age as could be selected for her in Valle- 
 rargues ; and the difference between their 
 manners and those of Madame Durand, 
 was of itself no trifling recommendation. 
 She felt, also, that purest of all delights, 
 the consciousness of giving pleasure ; and 
 found no etlbrt she could make to gratify 
 her new friend, however trifling, pass 
 unnoticed. In consequence of the Pil- 
 grim's discourse, and the effect of his 
 engaging appearance, Madame Durand 
 had questioned Mons. la Porte respecting 
 Isidore, and the accounts she received 
 from him, were so favourable that he 
 became immediately a welcome visiter, 
 nor did the involuntary smile that played 
 on her favourite's countenance, when he
 
 188 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 appeared, contribute a little to dispose 
 her towards him. So much was she 
 struck with his acquirements, as well as 
 the fine openness of his character, that 
 she secretly resolved that every endea- 
 vour in her power should be used, to com- 
 plete what seemed so happily begun, and 
 if her parents consented, to forward what 
 appeared so likely to ensure the happi- 
 ness of Rose. These determinations, 
 however, were the result of longer ac- 
 quaintance, and it is necessary to premise, 
 that the conversation we have related 
 above, should not, in the strict order of 
 chronology, have been mentioned so soon. 
 We took the liberty of introducing it 
 here, in order to leave the worthy Consul 
 time to advance on his way. We must 
 now, therefore, return to him, and endea- 
 vour to account for the time of his absence 
 from Vallerargues, being longer than was 
 appointed him by the Prior. 
 
 J
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 189 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Oh, open the door, some pity tx) shov*', 
 Keen blows the northern wind, 
 
 The glen is white with the drifted snow. 
 And the path is hard to find. 
 
 The Palmer, 
 
 Travelling slowly, both to spare his 
 mule, and to allow of Simon s keeping 
 pace with him, the Consul arrived at the 
 tirst village, where his inquiry was to be 
 made, but in vain, no tidings of the un- 
 fortunate maniac were to be obtained, and 
 many a weary day was spent in pursuing 
 contradictory directions, which were ren- 
 dered still more obscure by the blunders 
 of Simon, who was occasionally employed 
 in gleaning intelligence. In this manner
 
 190 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THB 
 
 the Consul traversed the romantic scenes 
 that adorn the base of the Lower Ceven- 
 nes, wandered among their wide-spreading 
 woods of chesnut, now leafless and una- 
 dorned, and crossed those streams which 
 carry fertility along with them to the plains 
 below. Led by a faint gleam of hope, 
 he ascended the wild regions of the Upper 
 Cevennes, and the mountains of Lozere, 
 whose summits are lost in the clouds, and 
 where stern winter, who is scarcely per- 
 mitted to visit the fertile and glowing 
 plains of the low country, finds an asylum 
 suited to his gloomy horrors. In the 
 midst of these heights, chiefly covered 
 with pine, fir, and beech, extend in dif- 
 ferent parts, some spaces of level ground, 
 but so skreened from the sun's rays, so 
 barren, with rocks and masses of stone, 
 that, excepting chesnuts and a species of 
 coarse rye, nature bestows no gifts on the
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. 191 
 
 cultivators, and leaves them to procure a 
 scanty subsistence, by their invincible 
 f(irtitude and unwearied industry. In 
 these regions, during whole months, en- 
 closed in their cottages by the depth of 
 the snow, the poor inhabitants feed oa 
 black bread, hardened by time, roots, 
 truffles, cheese made of sheep's milk, and 
 chesnuts, prepared for their winter store, 
 by being dried on large iron plates, over 
 the hot embers. This last article of food, 
 calling for neither care nor culture, may 
 be looked upon as a peculiar blessing of 
 Providence, and without which, the sturdy 
 mountaineers could never, during the long 
 war that was carried on against them, 
 have expelled famine from an immense 
 district, when deprived of all other re- 
 sources, and pursued, night and day, by 
 the troops of their enemies. Yet, with 
 anxious looks, they watch the decreasing
 
 192 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 provisions, and gaze wistfully for the first 
 beams of a late-returning Spring. Nor 
 are the people less rude than their climate ; 
 coarse in their dress, appearance, man- 
 ners, and dialect, they frequently, about 
 Easter, descend their rugged and almost 
 impracticable roads, to follow the trades of 
 tinkers, bellows-menders, and knife-grind- 
 ers, or to perform the more laborious tasks 
 in the harvest and vintage, which would 
 overpower the strength of their more de- 
 generate lowland neighbours ; and often is 
 the uncouth, though athletic mountaineer, 
 pointed at with a look and expression of 
 derision. Yet these mountains were for- 
 merly the abode of manly freedom and 
 ardent zeal for religion ; in their wild 
 regions, was kindled a flame, which au- 
 thority and force united, could not extin- 
 guish, even by a barbarity that savages 
 could scarcely have exceeded, and which
 
 rROTFSTANTS OF T.ANGUEDOC. 193 
 
 carried by those who felt its influence into 
 a wider sphere, has left an undying spark 
 as a light for happier days. 
 
 At the period of VidaFs journey, the 
 eye could nowhere turn, without perceiv- 
 ing the ruin caused by man's pride and 
 bigotry, added to the natural horrors of 
 the scene ; nor is that to be wondered at, 
 when we consider what had taken place 
 there. 
 
 * In the year 1703, while the resistance 
 of the Protestants of Languedoc, in tl:e 
 defence of their lives and families, and 
 with the fond hope of obtaining religious 
 liberty, was at its height, the Marshal 
 Montrevel conceived a plan, which, one 
 would have thought, human nature, de- 
 graded as it is, would shudder at. He 
 found the opposition to his arms was not 
 to be overcome, tliat the natural fast- 
 
 ♦ Historical. 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE camisard; or, THB 
 
 nesses, in which the insurgents concealed 
 themselves, could not be forced by troops 
 unacquainted with the country, and he 
 therefore proposed to destroy all the 
 towns and villages, scattered over an 
 immense surface of the Upper Cevennes, 
 which might afford them harbour and 
 protection, and transport their wretched 
 inhabitants to the nearest Catholic towns. 
 The execution of this order was committed 
 to Field-Marshal Julian. Four hundred 
 and sixty-six hamlets or villages, contain- 
 ing upwards of twenty thousand inhabit- 
 ants, were doomed to destruction. The 
 king forbad the massacre of this multi- 
 tude of innocent sufferers; — admirable 
 instance of humanity ! as if death itself 
 were not preferable to the anguish, the 
 bodily suffering, poverty, and certain ruin 
 attendant on such an expulsion, from all 
 the heart of man holds sacred, and in
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 19o 
 
 which tender females, enfeebled age, 
 and helpless childhood, as well as 
 more enduring manhood, were to par- 
 ticipate. 
 
 The soldiers at first marched to their 
 labour of extermination with alacrity, and 
 the miserable people they came to drive 
 from their homes, fled at their approach, 
 many being forced into rebellion by their 
 fears. On every side, the destruction 
 proceeded, the rocks re-echoed to the 
 sound of axes and levers, and the burst- 
 ing of trains of gunpowder, proclaimed 
 the progress of the work of iniquity afar 
 through the desert. But these means 
 were too slow for Julian's impetuous zeal. 
 The distance of the habitations, placed 
 sometimes in almost inaccessible situ- 
 ations, on the craggy points of rocks, in 
 hollow abyssess, or amid impenetrable 
 woods, wearied the patience and ex- 
 
 K 2
 
 196 THE CAMISAHD ; OR, THE 
 
 hausted the time and strength of the 
 destroyers ; food also was wanting, and 
 famine and sickness began to avenge the 
 innocent victims of their brutal rage. An 
 order from Court seconded his wishes, and 
 the whole country was doomed to form 
 one vast funeral pile, on which they vainly 
 trusted to immolate the never-dying spirit 
 of freedom. A blast from hell itself 
 could scarcely have been more dreadful 
 in its effects ; all fell before the activity 
 of the fire, as the trees of the forest, when 
 the lightning from Heaven strikes them, 
 and they kindle at its touch, reddening 
 the sky with the glare. Nor was slaugh- 
 ter wanting to complete the scene of de- 
 solation ; the miserable inhabitants, who, 
 in the wildness of their despair, remained 
 to witness the loss of their homes, were 
 murdered without mercy ; some even who 
 were guilty of no other offence than
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 197 
 
 choosing a retreat not prescribed to them 
 by their oppressors. 
 
 Nothing remained to mark that the hand 
 of man had ever made this wilderness 
 to smile, but here and there the massy 
 arched vaults, which form the foundation 
 of the houses in that country, blackened 
 with smoke and flame ; they long stood 
 as so many memorials of the fatal act. 
 Hither some poor wretches, after a lapse 
 of years, dragged their feeble limbs, to 
 weep over the ruin of their native soil, 
 and with the fond piety that lingers round 
 the abodes of our forefathers. By degrees 
 new hamlets were raised around tlicir 
 ruins, and a thinly scattered population 
 returned to people the waste. — Can any 
 thing but Christian principle teach them 
 to forget their fathers' wrongs, or obli- 
 terate from their minds the memory of 
 so much suffering .' 
 
 K 3
 
 198 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 It was in the midst of regions so well 
 suited to her sorrows, that Vidal now 
 sought the wretched Louise, guided by a 
 report of a person answering to her de- 
 scription, having been seen, in the depth 
 of winter, ascending the road which 
 branches off either to the Mont Causse 
 or the Alte Fage, one of the highest 
 of that chain of the Lozere mountains, 
 and so called from a mass of beech- wood, 
 with which it is crowned. The way was 
 dreadful, and rendered more difficult to 
 the traveller, from the shade of the 
 forests through which it was cut, and 
 which, though still leafless, made the 
 dusky evening appear yet more gloomy. 
 A heavy snow was falling, the cold was 
 so intense, that the Consul was forced to 
 alight, and Simon, unused to exposure in 
 such a climate, felt with surprise and 
 apprehension, that it became congealed in
 
 PROTESTANTS OF I.ANOUKDOC. 199 
 
 liis long straggling locks. There were 
 added to the horrors of the scene, the dis- 
 mal roar of winter torrents, which form 
 the sources of many well-known streams, 
 that ailenvards bear their tribute to tlic 
 ocean or the Mediterranean. 
 
 Several hours had yet to pass, before 
 the rising of the moon, and in this dreary 
 state, ignorant of their exact situation, it 
 was no cheerful prospect to look forward 
 to passing the night without food or fire. 
 Simon was the first to break silence, in 
 bitter lamentations and regrets of the 
 comforts of home, of which, lie was in 
 general pretty regardless, while the hot 
 tears poure<-l down his frozen cheeks, and 
 he mingled with his complaints loud pro- 
 testations that nothing, if he had the hap- 
 piness of returning to Vallerargues, should 
 ever tempt him so far from it again. The 
 Consul, whose courage increased by com- 
 
 K 4
 
 200 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 parison, severely reprimanded his faint- 
 hearted companion. 
 
 " Why, man, pluck up a little spirit, I 
 say ; what a pretty soldier you'd make, if 
 a dark night terrifies you so much/^ 
 
 " Please your honour," said Simon, 
 *' I never had any relish for that profes- 
 sion ; and, besides, in all the marchings 
 and counter-marchings I ever heard of, 
 they never seemed to suffer more than I 
 do now. Why the teeth make a noise 
 against each other, like shrivelled nuts in 
 their shells. They must have had a warm 
 Christmas here, if our proverb holds 
 good ; for, you know, it says, ' Quam per 
 nada on soureyo per Pasque brulo ta 
 legno.' Besides, I have not tasted a 
 morsel since the morning, and I shiver so, 
 that I cannot hold the bottle, straight to 
 my mouth, but spill it right and left, as if 
 good brandy was as plenty as water in 
 this outlandish place."
 
 PROTBSTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 201 
 
 " Can't you indeed ?" cried the Consul, 
 — " I wish I had known before that you 
 were so provident : let me have a try, — 
 my hand is steadier, and I shall see 
 clearer with a little of it to thaw me." 
 
 '* When I have taken my share, and 
 welcome,^' said Simon, *' but T must first 
 reward myself for my care. Hist ! master ! 
 what's that noise I hear ? Can it be a 
 wolf? St. Joseph protect us !" he added, 
 crossing himself. " But now I begin to 
 think of wolves, what a number of stories 
 about them come into my head ! — and this 
 is the very place and time of year to meet 
 them." 
 
 *' And if we should, you blockhead," 
 cried the Consul, " I hope they would 
 make a meal of you, — a far easier death 
 than dying of fear, as you seem inclined 
 to do. But, wolves or not, I am deter- 
 mined to find a shehcr for the night ; so 
 
 K 5
 
 202 THE CaMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 do you hold my mule while I fire a pistol, 
 and the report may perhaps bring some 
 one to our relief." 
 
 ** And then," said Simon, trembling 
 with still greater alarm, *' they'll take us 
 for banditti, and murder us without a 
 question. Pray, master, wait a little, 
 for I do think I see a smoke !" 
 
 " See a smoke, you fool," replied the 
 Consul, " in such a snow as this ! See a 
 light, and I will say something to you." 
 
 " And what will you give me," cried 
 Simon," if I do?" 
 
 " Why," returned his master, " what 
 you deserve, for not seeing it before ; for 
 ' there it is !' " exclaimed both at once, as 
 faint glimmer appeared at some distance 
 through the thick atmosphere. 
 
 They proceeded, as speedily as the 
 slipperiness of the ground would permit, 
 to approach it, and happily discovered
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 203 
 
 that it issued through the ill-closed shut- 
 ters of a cottage, which stood the first of 
 a small scattered village, the outline of 
 several houses of the same description 
 appearing not far off. Vidal was for de- 
 manding immediate admittance, with the 
 authority of one accustomed to command ; 
 but Simon withheld his arm, with his 
 usual caution, as he was about to thunder 
 on the door, and begged permission first 
 to peep in at the window, and judge if the 
 people within were more or less to be 
 dreaded than the wolves without. 
 
 He did so, and perceived, seated round 
 a large fire, which burned in the middle 
 of the apartment, a family of mountaineers, 
 finishing their frugal meal, and conversing 
 a jargon that sounded harsh to lowland 
 ears. The patriarch of the group, his 
 countenance worn by age and evident 
 suftering, was relating what appeared 
 
 K
 
 204 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 peculiarly to interest his auditors, as their 
 tears and uplifted hands bore evidence to 
 their sympathy. One young girl, whose 
 mean apparel did not obscure her extreme 
 beauty, seemed more especially affected. 
 Her mother shook her head in mild sad- 
 ness. The father looked at his daughter, 
 and pressed more closely to his bosom a 
 pair of lovely children, who gazed with 
 astonishment at the sorrow they witnessed. 
 The only one of the party who appeared 
 insensible to what was passing, was an 
 old deaf grandame, spinning in one cor- 
 ner, and humming a low and monotonous 
 ditty to cheer herself at work. What was 
 the furniture of the place it was difficult 
 to distinguish, as thick volumes of smoke 
 eddied round and round, in search of other 
 apertures besides an open chimney over 
 the fire ; but, after attentive observation, 
 Simon discerned, at the other end, a 
 
 I
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. 205 
 
 couple of cows and a few sheep lying tran 
 quilly on their seldom-disturbed litter, 
 and at least contributing their share to 
 the warmth of the common apartment. 
 
 Having sufficiently reconnoitred the 
 premises, he next proceeded to follow his 
 master's orders, and knock lustily at the 
 door. His summons was answered by 
 the barking of two immense dogs, that 
 had been undiscovered in the straw, and 
 now made their presence known by a 
 vociferation, which the screams of the 
 women, the threats of the men, and en- 
 treaties of the children, could with diffi- 
 culty silence. 
 
 Simon, who, at the sound of the com- 
 motion he had unwittingly occasioned, 
 had slunk close to the wall, in order not 
 to be the first to appear as the door 
 opened, wished himself far away from the 
 confusion, and could not be prevailed uiK>n
 
 206 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 to enter the cottage till he saw one mastiff 
 withheld by the sturdy strength of the 
 mountaineer, who seized him by his iron- 
 spiked collar, and his companion, awed 
 by a few well-applied strokes of a cudgel, 
 slink again to his hiding-place, to snarl 
 undisturbed, and display his sharp white 
 teeth at the strangers. 
 
 It was some time before this cessation 
 of hostilities was obtained ; but no sooner 
 had the good people understood that two 
 benighted travellers requested their hos- 
 pitality, than they proceeded, with friendly 
 alacrity, to make the best provision in 
 their power to receive them. One drew 
 the weary mule to bear company with the 
 other four-footed inhabitants of the apart- 
 ment, and shook down before her a fresh 
 bundle of hay ; another took off the Con- 
 sults dripping roqu^laure and hat, and 
 supplied their place with a coarse shep-
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LA NGUEDOC. 207 
 
 herd's cloak ; a third proceeded to collect 
 such provisions as the place afforded ; in 
 short, all were anxious, without inquiring 
 whom they served, to employ themselves 
 for the strangers, desirous of no other re- 
 compense than the conspiousness of having 
 relieved their fellow-creatures. 
 
 Simon was not displeased to sit down 
 and be waited upon, and found his spirits 
 rise at the sight of food and fire. 
 
 As the beds were few in number, and 
 not very inviting in appearance, Vidcd 
 preferred sitting up during the night round 
 the blazing hearth, which the master of 
 the cottage undertook to keep well sup- 
 plied with fuel. By degrees, the females 
 of the family and the children retired to 
 rest, the latter repeating a short prayer, 
 and imploring their parents' blessing. 
 The (loii:s had growled tliemselves to 
 sleep and the rest of the party, being pro*
 
 208 
 
 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 vided with pipes, sat for some time silent, 
 as the Consul had already exhausted his 
 thanks, and the recital of his adventures. 
 After many fruitless attempts, which 
 honest Simon made, to renew the conver- 
 sation, and which only drew forth short 
 answers in reply, he happily thought of 
 inquiring, what had so earnestly engaged 
 their attention, as to prevent their hearing 
 the footsteps of the mule on their arrival. 
 " As to that, friend," replied the younger 
 host, '' the snow is as good as a down 
 cushion for treading softly upon; but if 
 you had made a clattering like the wolves 
 in December, I doubt if we should have 
 heard it, for what my father was telling 
 took up all our thoughts." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Simon. — '' Some mur- 
 der, or ghost story, I suppose ; such a 
 one as makes me creep into bed, as if the 
 shaking fit of an ague was upon me."
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDGC. 209 
 
 " No," replied his host, *' it was nothing 
 so wonderful. We were only talking 
 about a poor mad woman, whom my 
 father used to see in her happier days, 
 when he w^as in the habit of going down 
 to the Lowlands ; and as I was telling 
 him I met her a few days ago, one word 
 drew on another, and my Janette must 
 needs hear something of her history. 
 We were in the middle of it when you 
 knocked, and our dogs, who are good 
 guards, and not much used to strangers 
 at this season, set up their howling." 
 
 Vidal was struck by what he said, and 
 ietermined, however unpleasant the sub- 
 lect might be to his feehngs, to gather 
 ill the information possible, that could 
 enable him to discover if this was the 
 object of his search. He, therefore, after 
 ogging and winking to Simon, to ensure 
 lis silence, ventured to ask if they were 
 icquainted with her name and family.
 
 210 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 " I believe we are," said the old man, 
 '* but I see no reason why a stranger 
 should be so too ; you'll forgive my bold- 
 ness, I hope ; her history is but too com- 
 mon, and shame be to the gentlemen, as 
 they call themselves, that it should be so ; 
 but they feel no more than stocks and 
 stones, till they've daughters of their own, 
 and then sometimes it comes home ta 
 them." He proceeded to relate, with sim- 
 pie eloquence, what common report had 
 spread of Louise's wrongs, adding that 
 she frequently travelled round to their vil- 
 lage, where she was always sure of a 
 welcome. " I cannot, at this moment,'* 
 continued the old mountaineer, " remem- 
 ber the name of her seducer, but perhaps 
 it is better I should not, for I would not 
 wish to curse him, villain as he is." 
 
 '' Pray," said Simon, with eager and 
 indiscreet curiosity, " might it happen to 
 be Vidal?"
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 211 
 
 *' Ah, Vidal, that is it,** replied the 
 mountaineer, ''but may I ask, young man, 
 how you came to know it so well ? is he 
 unfortunately one of your friends ?" 
 
 Vidal, who sat on thorns during this 
 dialogue, gave the unfortunate Simon 
 such a well applied prick with his spur, 
 a hint he felt sure would not be un- 
 attended to, that he screamed out with the 
 pain. 
 
 '' What's the matter ?" inquired Vidal, 
 with a look of counterfeit surprise. 
 
 '' Oh, my leg, master !" cried Simon, 
 grasping the afflicted part. 
 
 "Well, fellow ! and what of your leg; 
 you've got the cramp, I suppose, with the 
 cold, but there's no need of screaming 
 so loud ; can't you answer the question 
 put to you?" 
 
 ** Yes, yes," said Simon, " I think I 
 know the man you mean ; is he not short,
 
 212 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 ill-favoured, with hanging brows, and 
 grey eyes, and ?" 
 
 Another prick, more violent than the 
 first, made him jump almost a foot from 
 his seat, and, turning his eyes on his 
 master, he saw in his countenance, a 
 momentary glance of so diabolical a cast, 
 as instantly checked his volubility. 
 
 *'You are sadly troubled with the 
 cramp, friend," said the younger moun- 
 taineer; *' I think I must waken up our 
 mother, she has all sorts of cures for such 
 complaints." 
 
 Simon, who, even when really ill, 
 had a great abhorrence of pharmacy 
 in all its branches, thought it no joke to 
 be cured when nothing was the matter 
 with him, and he begged he would not 
 give himself the trouble, as it would go 
 off without, by the aid of another bumper. 
 
 " But this Vidal," continued the old 
 
 J
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 213 
 
 man, — *' is he, or is he not, a friend of 
 yours ?" 
 
 " Friend !" exclaimed Simon, draining 
 his glass as he spoke; '*no, indeed, I 
 can assure you, I wouldn't own him as 
 such. I have seen him, I own, at fairs 
 and markets, in the way of my calling, 
 
 riding about on his old dappled " 
 
 prudence checked the rest. 
 
 '^ And what is generally thought of 
 him ?" said his host. 
 
 *' Why," repHed Simon, " he has the 
 character of being a great rascal, a cheat- 
 ing, lying, mean-spirited scoundrel.'^ 
 Here he stole a look at the Consul, whose 
 face exhibited an odd mixture of offended 
 pride, and amusement at the method he 
 had taken for concealment. 
 
 *' Tiiat's right," exclaimed the old man, 
 who appeared the most earnest against 
 him: ''and what do they think he deserves 
 for his pains ?"
 
 214 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 ''They think," said Simon, pleased 
 with the opportunity of revenging himself, 
 ''that he should be dragged through a 
 horsepond, whipped round the market- 
 cross, and hung up at the lantern, as a 
 warning to others ; — and, if they once 
 begin, I think I could not, for the life of 
 me, refuse to lend a helping hand." 
 
 *' You're a brave fellow for that," cried 
 the elder mountaineer, '' and shall have 
 another glass for your honesty. Nay, 
 we'll all fill, and drink confusion to all 
 betrayers of innocence and grinders of 
 the poor." 
 
 Vidal could not excuse himself from 
 joining in the toast, though his voice fal- 
 tered a little, as he repeated the words. 
 
 Simon, who considered that he had now 
 sufficiently secured himself from any dan- 
 ger to his bones, should his connexion 
 with the Consul be discovered, proceeded 
 to make all possible inquiries respecting
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 215 
 
 the route taken by the poor maniac, on 
 her last leaving the village. 
 
 *' It is difficult to say," replied the 
 younger host, *' as she follows no guide 
 but her own fancy and inclination. There 
 is a young man, sometimes goes with 
 her, and brings her back ; he's at my 
 house very often, oftener, indeed, than I 
 could wish ; but just now he's gone with a 
 few sheep belonging to a neighbour of 
 mine, to pick up a little grass lower down 
 in the mountains, for they say it's begin- 
 ning to spring there. Whatever is to be 
 known about her, he can best tell you, 
 provided he's in the humour for talking, 
 which is not always the case." 
 
 " Who did you say the lad was V said 
 the Consul. 
 
 *' I was going to tell you,'* replied the 
 mountaineer, " that I never knew, nor 
 ever could hear of any one that did ; he's
 
 216 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 as great a rover as Louise herself, and 
 cannot be brought to fix himself to any 
 employment. They came to this country 
 together ; but where she picked him up I 
 pretend not to say. They seem, some- 
 times, fond of each other, but it's in a 
 way unlike other people, and he's so stern 
 in his manner, that one would think it 
 was his right to play the part of master. 
 Stern as he is, the young girls, I believe, 
 are bewitched about him, though he seems 
 to care only for one, and that one I'd as 
 soon he'd let alone.'* 
 
 " Has the young man no name ?" said 
 Vidal. 
 
 *' We call him Pierre," replied the 
 other, " I believe, because he first came 
 on St. Peter's Day. Whether he has any 
 other christening, I cannot say. The 
 poor woman sometimes calls him Charles, 
 but there's no judging from that. There
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. -1 ' 
 
 arc gossips here who think that in one of 
 her wild freaks, she stole him from some 
 great people; for though he's poor, he's as 
 proud as a duke, and seems not born to 
 toil and serve as we are; but I am loath to 
 suspect her of making so much misery. 
 If you wish to see him, Sir, I can iind a 
 man to conduct you to the hermitage 
 where his flock is feeding." 
 
 ** Not without it's on my way home," 
 answered the Consul, carelessly ; " 1 have 
 no great curiosity on the subject." 
 
 '* Just as you please," said his host; 
 and finding it was growing late, he soon 
 followed the gocd example of Simon, who 
 already gave notice of his being in a 
 state of profound repose. 
 
 Not so the Consul ; if drowsiness for a 
 moment surprised him, it did nut inter- 
 rupt theeflfect of the mountaineer's words, 
 wliich was heightened by the wild vagarie> 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE camisard; or, thb 
 
 that accompany short and broken slum- 
 bers. At one time, he fancied himself 
 still reclining by the expiring embers, 
 Louise herself bending over him, and 
 rousing his hosts to fulfil their threats ; 
 at another, the young shepherd, Pierre, 
 seemed to seize him with resistless force, 
 and he already felt his breath shortening, 
 and the light flash from his eyes, as in the 
 agonies of suffocation. Then again, the 
 scene shifted to the splendour of the 
 Castle of Vallerargues : his injured pa- 
 tron, haggard and pale with sickness, and 
 his lady, clothed in the mournful garments 
 of the tomb, stood before him, and in 
 appalling accents, called upon him to 
 account for the state in which they found 
 their child. That the young man he had 
 just heard of, was the Baron's son, Vidal 
 was strongly incHned to suspect. He 
 had never thoroughly believed the account
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 219 
 
 of his sudden disappearance, but perti- 
 naciously imagined that Louise had se- 
 creted him, and feigned an accusation 
 against himself, in order to lull his sus- 
 picions. This idea was confirmed by his 
 finding the most minute search ineffectual; 
 and the absence, if not death, of Mons. 
 Brunei from that period, had prevented 
 his examining him on the subject. Thus 
 he flattered himself, at least one part of 
 his labour was accomplished, and the 
 only difficulty that remained, was to en- 
 gage the youth to follow him ; of the ex- 
 tent of this he could form no idea till he 
 had seen him, and notwithstanding his 
 pretended unconcern, he determined that 
 this should be his first object on the 
 succeeding day. As his thoughts as- 
 sumed a more certain purpose, his sleep 
 became sounder ; and the chilliness of 
 the morning air, together with the 
 
 L 2
 
 220 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 bleating of the sheep, awakened the 
 Consul to those strange sensations of 
 astonishment and uncertainty, which suc- 
 ceed a night spent in a place and man- 
 ner so unusual.
 
 PROTESTANTS OK I.ANGUEDOC. .i21 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Beneath a inoiuitain's l)ro\v, the most remote 
 
 And inaccessible, by shepherds trod, 
 
 In a deep cave, dug- by no mortal hand, 
 
 A hermit lived, a melancholy man, 
 
 Who was the wonder of our wand' ring swains. 
 
 Douglax. 
 
 AhTER rubbing his eyes ibr some time, 
 and allowing the first burst of recollection 
 to pass off, Vidal perceived that the in- 
 habitants had left the cottage to pursue 
 their usual occupations, and that none 
 remained behind but a little girl who was 
 foddering the tiock. With some difficulty 
 he aroused the still sleeping Simon, and 
 dragged him, yawning and shivering, into 
 the open air. " And now. Sirrah," de- 
 manded the Consul, as soon as they were 
 
 L 3
 
 222 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 sufficiently withdrawn from observation, 
 " tell me if you do not deserve this whip 
 on your shoulders, for your impudence 
 last night?" 
 
 " Well," cried Simon, chuckling with 
 pleasure at the recollection, " if I didn't 
 think you meant to thank me for keeping 
 your secret so well ; but that's what a 
 man gains for speaking the truth for his 
 friend." 
 
 " Do you call that the truth, you villain," 
 said the Consul, " and to my face, too." 
 
 " I'll call it what you please," said 
 Simon, '' but, next time, you may shift for 
 yourself." 
 
 '' And pray,'* said the Consul, " what 
 good did I derive from your services ; 
 wouldn't it have done as well, if you had 
 put in a good word for me?" 
 
 My conscience .wouldn't let me," re- 
 plied Simon ; " besides, no one would have
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. 223 
 
 believed me, for I'd venture to swear you 
 won't go to purgatory for the sin of hypo- 
 crisy ; you're well known for what you 
 are, and I should only have got myself 
 into a scrape, as one of your sort." 
 
 *' You shall pay for your insolence, you 
 scoundrel, if I live to see home agian," 
 cried the Consul, " but now I have other 
 things to attend to. You heard what the 
 old man said last night of the shepherd - 
 boy, Pierre, I think he called him?" 
 
 *' Yes," replied Simon, " I did hear a 
 sort of something, between sleeping and 
 waking ; I thought it was a dream : now 
 you speak of it, I was thinking " 
 
 '* Who gave you leave to think ?" said 
 the Consul. 
 
 *' Gently, master," replied Simon, '* I al- 
 ways thought a man had liberty to think, 
 at least, without leave of the King. If 
 you had not been so ready to stop me, I 
 
 L 4
 
 224 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 should have told you, that it struck me, 
 this might be the young Baron there has 
 been some talk about lately ; and as some 
 folks are good enough to say you made 
 away with him, if he is found to be alive, 
 it may save your conscience many a 
 twinge, and your character a stain, which 
 is no small matter." 
 
 The Consul scarcely knew how to 
 answer his Squire ; he found he had one 
 of a most ungovernable species to deal 
 with — too weak to be trusted, and to cun- 
 ning to be blindfolded ; he contented him- 
 self, therefore, with treating Simon's sug- 
 gestion as a mere fancy, protesting he had 
 merely asked the question to learn if he 
 remembered where their host had men- 
 tioned the boy was to be found, as he had 
 reasons for becoming acquainted with 
 him, which he had not time that morning 
 to explain, and must be kept secret for
 
 PRorESTANTS OF I.ANGIEDOC. S^i) 
 
 the present ; he desired him, therefore, 
 to abstain from all further remarks, and 
 simply obey his orders, without endea- 
 vouring to discover their motives, pro- 
 mising him, as a recompense of his dis- 
 cretion, full pardon for the transgressions 
 he had been guilty of since they left home. 
 
 Whether Simon's bow spoke that he 
 was convinced, or that he was submissive, 
 it is difficult to determine, but he followed 
 his master in silence to the cottage, 
 where the party of the preceding even- 
 ing were seated ready for breakfast, witli 
 the addition of a young man, who had a 
 basket of tools beside him, and appeared 
 equipped for a journey. 
 
 " Good morrow, friends," said the 
 younger host, " you are stirring early 
 this fine morning ; but a man is not long 
 getting about, when he lias not a bed to 
 turn out of. Come, take something before 
 
 L 5
 
 226 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 you start; and as you are for the low 
 country, there's the person I was speak- 
 ing of last night, who can be your guide, 
 for he's going there himself, and they say 
 good company shortens a lover's league." 
 
 " I thank you," said Vidal, " and shall 
 be glad of his directions, for I have never 
 travelled this road before, and if he is 
 incHned to pass near the hermitage you 
 mentioned, it will the better please me ; 
 for I love to say an Ave in the company 
 of such holy men." 
 
 The traveller assured him it was on 
 their way, as the summer road was still 
 impracticable. 
 
 After a hearty meal, which Simon, as 
 usual, took care to prolong far on the 
 road, the Consul repeated his thanks for 
 the hospitality they had received, and 
 nowise sorry to find all other remunera- 
 tion was refused, mounted his mule, and
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 227 
 
 proceeded along the path which led in 
 the opposite direction to that which they 
 had traversed the night before. 
 
 The morning was sharp, but beautiful 
 to the eye ; at distant intervals appeared 
 cottages perched like the eagle's nest on 
 the lofty summits of the heights, or se- 
 cured in the deep ravines beneath. The 
 snow had not as yet felt the influence of 
 the sun, and hung in light wreaths upon 
 the branches of the beech and firs. Here 
 and there a woodman employed in cutting 
 the dead boughs, a shepherd seeking moss 
 and dry leaves for his iiock, or a travelling 
 pedlar carrying his glittering stores to 
 tempt the damsels of the mountains, en- 
 Hvened the scene, furnishing Simon, also, 
 with subjects of conversation, which he 
 seldom failed to improve ; and they had 
 not proceeded many miles from Fraissi- 
 net de Fourques, the village which had 
 
 L 6
 
 228 THE camisard; or, thh 
 
 afforded them shelter, before he had 
 talked himself into an intimacy with 
 Gaspard, their new guide. He told him 
 what were considered the best fairs, 
 where his employment as a tinker was 
 most in requisition, what employers he 
 might trust, and who should be dealt w^ith 
 warily, if he did not wish to labour with- 
 out reward. In short, whether from an 
 ambition of patronising, or a wish to 
 oblige, his information was so kindly 
 given, that Gaspard could not refuse being 
 on his part equally communicative in 
 satisfying the valet's curiosity, which was 
 principally excited by the Hermit, whom 
 his master, notwithstanding his usual pro- 
 fane raillery, was seized with an unac- 
 countable desire to visit. 
 
 *' Of his history," said Gaspard, *' little 
 is known; his name is Brother Francis 
 Gabriel, and men judge by his mortifi^a-
 
 PROTESTAKTS OF I.ANGUEDOC 229 
 
 tions that he must have led a very bad 
 life ; no very charitable conclusion, I must 
 say. All I know is, that he lives much 
 to himself, and never suffers a woman to 
 come near his cell." 
 
 " A wise resolution," said Simon, *' if 
 he has anything to keep secret. But 
 pray what connexion is there between 
 this reverend father and the young shep- 
 herd, who, it seems, seeks out his com- 
 pany ?" 
 
 ** None that I know of,*^ said Gaspard, 
 with a look of much surprise, *' except 
 the good herbage near the hermitage ; 
 besides, how should there be, when they 
 say that Pierre is not a Christian, not 
 even a Protestant, as the most of us are 
 in these mountains. Mark me, I don't 
 speak from my own knowledge, but so 
 says common report ; and that if he wor- 
 ships anything it must be the sun. I
 
 230 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 have heard my grandfather say, when he 
 was a young man, he had a herd, who 
 never was known to enter a church or go 
 to confession ; and as he was uneasy 
 about the lad, he asked him one day, 
 what religion he was of, and whether he 
 ever said his prayers. The lad bluntly 
 told him, he did when the sun shone ; and 
 I have heard his prayer too, but I forget 
 it ; it was all to the bright planet. My 
 grandfather, out of care for his soul, pre- 
 vailed on him to go the Cure. The first 
 fine day he went, and found the Cure 
 sitting with his books before him, ready 
 to begin catechising. — He was not a whit 
 daunted, but, seeing a sunbeam peeping 
 in through a hole in the shutter, took off 
 his shepherd's cloak, and threw it on it, 
 and it hung as if on a peg. Never was 
 there a man so surprised as the Cure, so 
 he bid him go about his business, for that
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC 231 
 
 he could not do so much with all his 
 learning." 
 
 **If he'd had to deal with our Cur6," 
 said Simon, ** he might not have come off 
 so well ; for he doesn't find a greater 
 fault in a man than being wiser than 
 himself" 
 
 Simon was not to be put off his in- 
 quiries by this story, especially as he saw 
 that the Consul was listening to their con- 
 versation, and begged for some further 
 information respecting Pierre. 
 
 " It's now ten years," said Gaspard, 
 " since he was first seen at Fraissinet ; 
 the winter was colder even than it is now, 
 and we were so short run of provisions 
 that the old ones began to watch every 
 mouthful we ate, and preach against waste 
 from morning to night. — One evening, 
 when we were close shut up in our houses, 
 this boy came down the street, wasted
 
 232 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 like a skeleton, without hat or shoes, and 
 treading on the snow as if he had hoofs 
 like a horse. No one cared to open their 
 doors, till little Jeanette, Andore's daugh- 
 ter, whom you saw last night, cried so 
 bitterly, that her mother, to please her, 
 let him in to warm himself, and gave him 
 some bread and cheese to eat. They 
 could get little out of him, and he soon 
 ran away with it. So it went on for a 
 week ; at last, they determined on follow- 
 ing him, and traced him to a cave at 
 some distance, almost blocked up with 
 snow ; and, on looking in, there was, in 
 one corner, a poor creature covered up 
 with all the clothes he could spare from 
 himself, and appearing ready to perish. 
 The boy threw his arms round her neck 
 when he came in, and tried to make her 
 eat the supper he had saved; he then 
 laid down close to her, as if to preserve
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC 233 
 
 her life by the warmth of his body. When 
 Andore told us this, the whole village felt 
 that it was a shame to them to suffer such 
 a thing ; and as she was too ill to be re- 
 moved, they sent covering and food, and 
 wood to the cave ; and though our pro- 
 visions were before so scanty, they lasted 
 us out till spring." 
 
 *' Did the woman die ?" said Simon. 
 
 '* No," replied Gaspard, " she got well 
 as the weather grew warm ; but she was 
 very bad in her head then, and she is so 
 still. We took very much to the boy, 
 and a fine hardy fellow he has grown up ; 
 why he makes nothing of bringing a 
 litter of young wolves in his cloak, without 
 caring whether he meets the dam or not," 
 
 That's a strange taste," said Simon, 
 " but I care not how long he pursues the 
 >:port, so as he does not ask me to assist 
 him."
 
 234 THE CAMISAIll>; OR, THE 
 
 In such discourse they proceeded till 
 towards evening, when fatigue and hunger 
 induced them to stop for the night at a 
 poor-looking dwelling, where a large juni- 
 per-bush suspended over the door, invited 
 travellers to seek rest and refreshment. 
 The former might have been enjoyed, 
 had not Vidal, who was extremely par- 
 ticular about his entertainment, when he 
 had to pay for it, kept up such a bustle as 
 prevented any in the house from sleeping 
 till a late hour. It was not, therefore, so 
 early as he intended that they set forward 
 again on their journey ; and as the heat 
 of the noonday sun began, in these lower 
 regions, to dissolve the snow, the road 
 was rendered almost impassable, and 
 the evening was again drawing in, when 
 Gaspard announced that they approached 
 the hermitage of Brother Gabriel. 
 
 For some time, the thickness of the
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LAXGUBDOC. 23.0 
 
 trees, and the numerous windings in the 
 road, had prevented their seeing far in 
 advance, and the large stones imbedded 
 in slimy mud, that lay on the way, re- 
 quired all their attention to keep their 
 footing in such a rapid descent. At length, 
 on turning an abrupt angle of the rock, 
 round which they had to pass, a scene of 
 wild magnificence appeared, such as the 
 hand of nature alone can create, and 
 man may admire without presuming to 
 imitate. 
 
 The narrow valley which presented 
 itself was bounded by frowning cliflfe, 
 clothed towards their summits with woods, 
 chiefly of chestnut, whose beautiful light 
 green foliage was in the more sheltered 
 spots just beginning to appear. Down 
 the sides of these cliffs, numerous small 
 streams, like lines of silver, found their 
 way ; several of them uniting at the upper
 
 236 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 end of the valley, had worn a passage 
 of some width over an immense mass of 
 rock that raised a frowning barrier there, 
 and, after flowing uninterruptedly for the 
 space of a few hundred yards, they fell 
 in sheets of foam and clouds of vapour, 
 a depth that the eye could scarcely fathom, 
 and rolled their clear tide along the 
 valley, chafing against every obstacle 
 that opposed its passage. Across this 
 rock, in ancient days, a wooden bridge 
 had been thrown, and a steep and narrow 
 pathway led to the hermitage on the oppo- 
 site side, whose entrance was only distin- 
 guished from other yawning chasms near 
 it, by a rude cross placed over it by the 
 devotion of its possessor. Before it, lay a 
 level space of some extent, which pre- 
 sented the appearance of an under cliff, 
 rent from the mountain by some violent 
 convulsion of nature, and exhibiting the
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 237 
 
 scanty marks of renewed vegetation. In 
 the valley, a few sheep and goats were 
 seen feeding, but so distant, that they 
 appeared like specks upon the green 
 herbage, and the shepherd seemed to 
 dwindle to an infant's stature. The whole 
 of the lovely scene was illuminated by 
 the rays of the setting sun, and little as 
 the minds of our travellers were accus- 
 tomed to dwell on the charms of nature, 
 it was a scene that for some minutes 
 rivetted their attention. Simon was the 
 first to speak: "this is very beautiful, I 
 must confess, but it's like the ups and 
 downs of life ; give me a little plain 
 ground, where a man may walk peaceably 
 on, without being afraid of breaking his 
 neck every step he takes. There is one 
 gentleman in a hollow so deep, that if 
 one were to slide down to him, there 
 seems little chance of being able to leave
 
 238 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 his company should it prove disagreeable ; 
 and as for the other, who I take it, is 
 perched in some snug hole on the oppo- 
 site side, he can have no visiters but the 
 eagles, for, without wings, I don't see it 
 is possible to get at him. — Do you see, 
 master, that the bridge we ought to cross 
 is broken?" 
 
 They turned their eyes immediately 
 in the direction he pointed, and perceived, 
 not without some dismay, that his remark 
 was just, and that one of the arches had 
 given way during a late flood ; but while 
 they were consulting on what were the 
 best means to pursue, the shepherd and 
 his flock were seen slowly ascending the 
 height, by a pathway invisible to unac- 
 customed eyes. His voice soon became 
 audible, as, in rough accents, he called 
 his sheep by their names, and threatened 
 or encouraged them by turns. *' Ay a!
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUKDOC 239 
 
 Ay a! se, venes la! Migrette ! gour- 
 mande ; gallavarda ! Hessida ! broute, 
 broute Roussillette ; ah ! Marquissas ! la 
 Fitte, Jaques, la!" and similar exclama- 
 tions, were heard ; and after disappearing 
 for some time among the underwood, he 
 leaped from a rising bank, which bounded 
 the road, followed by his sheep, for whose 
 convenience he carefully removed every 
 obstruction. They stood round him with 
 the patience and docility common to their 
 race, and the attentive submission they 
 display in those countries, where the 
 shepherds, passing their days and nights 
 in the field, are familiarized with each 
 individual of their flock. 
 
 For some time, the party thus assembled 
 mutually surveyed each other ; and if the 
 shepherd, whom the Consul immediately 
 guessed to be Pierre, wondered at their 
 appearance there, thoy were no less
 
 240 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 Struck with his firm athletic form, his 
 strongly-turned limbs, and the daring 
 look that appeared in his sunburnt fea- 
 tures. Contrary to the custom of the 
 country, he wore no covering on his head 
 and his dark hair, rather matted thar 
 curled, gave an air of savage wildness tc 
 his countenance. His dress was shabby 
 and a large coarse grey cloak hung froff 
 his shoulders. At his side was i 
 wallet, covered with goat-skin, a driec 
 gourd serving the purpose of a bottle 
 and in his hand a stout staff instead of i 
 crook. 
 
 In the mean time, Gaspard, who hac 
 been sent to examine the state of the 
 bridge, returned with intelligence, that 
 with great care, it was passable ; and or 
 seeing Pierre, saluted him as an old ac 
 quaintance, relating the circumstances 
 which led to their being at that hour ir
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC 241 
 
 SO wild a place, and their intention of 
 seeking a shelter in the hermitage. 
 
 Pierre took little notice of what he said, 
 but, turning to the Consul, inquired if he 
 had reason to suppose Father Gabriel 
 would wave in his favour the resolution 
 he had taken to receive no strangers. 
 The Consul could urge no claim on his 
 hospitality, and proposed his accompa- 
 nying him forward to see what reception 
 they were likely to meet with, leaving 
 Simon and Gaspard to accomplish the diffi- 
 cult task of leading the mule over the 
 broken arch. To this he agreed, after 
 securing his flock in a hovel of loose 
 stones ; and desiring the Consul to follow, 
 walked on with a step that seemed to 
 shake the very earth on which he trod. 
 
 Vidal, desirous of engaging his new 
 acquaintance in conversation, began some 
 tritling questions, but his replies were 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE camisard; or, thb 
 
 short and impatient, like the expressions 
 of a man who, having no curiosity himself, 
 cannot tolerate it in others ; and he ap- 
 peared more anxious to display his Her- 
 culean strength, as he removed the masses 
 of stones which the rush of the torrent 
 had thrown on the road. 
 
 The Consul augured ill, from his man- 
 ner, for the success of his expedition: 
 it did not seem likely, when his chief ex- 
 cellency lay in bones and sinews, that 
 repose and ease would have any charms 
 for him, or that, accustomed like the wild 
 ass to snufF the wind of the desert, he 
 should easily be brought to submit his 
 will to the control of another. 
 
 It was with great difficulty they reached 
 the other side of the bridge, just as the 
 bell of the hermitage tinkled the hour of 
 the Angelus, and at the same moment the 
 sun's broad disk, sinking behind the
 
 PR0TB8TANTS OF LANOHEDOC 243 
 
 western cliff, left the whole sky one deep 
 red. The Consul, crossing himself with 
 much apparent devotion, repeated an Ave 
 Maria, and Pierre remained motionless 
 till he had ended. 
 
 In order to lead to the subject of his 
 wishes, Vidal inquired if the hermitage 
 did not, as Gaspard had informed him, 
 depend on the priory of St. Roc. 
 
 *' It is very possible,'* said Pierre, 
 •* but it imposes on the brother who occu- 
 pies it no submission. During the life 
 of his predecessor, indeed, such a claim 
 was established ; but Brother Gabriel is 
 not a man to acknowledge a superior, not 
 even if the Prior himself were to come in 
 person and assert his claim.'* 
 
 '* There could be no disgrace, how- 
 ever," said Vidal, ** in such a submission ; 
 and as I know the Prior of St. Roc ex- 
 tremely well, I can venture to say, that a 
 
 M 2
 
 244 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 dependence on him is perhaps more ho- 
 nourable than independence. I may 
 boast of being as well acquainted with 
 him as most persons are ; nor was I, to 
 say the truth, less in the confidence of his 
 brother-in-law, the Baron de Courcy. 
 
 Pierre, who had walked on a few steps , 
 turned quickly round as he pronounced 
 the name, and coming up to him with a 
 look of evident astonishment, said — " And 
 who are you, Sir, who pretend yourself 
 the friend of such a man?*' 
 
 *' You shall be easily satisfied," said 
 Vidal, " if you will but first inform me 
 what interest it can excite in your 
 mind." 
 
 " I will have no bargaining," said 
 Pierre, sternly. " A name almost for- 
 gotten by the world cannot have been 
 uttered by chance." , 
 
 Vidal was hesitating what reply to
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 245 
 
 make, when they were struck by sounds 
 ot distress and alarm proceeding from the 
 bridge ; and Pierre, seeming to forget his 
 purpose, sprung quickly from him, and 
 ran to discover the cause. Vidal followed 
 more slowly, and on arriving at the broken 
 arch, found Simon tearing his hair, and 
 distorting himself with every violence of 
 gesticulation, while Gaspard endeavoured 
 to comfort him, and, wdth eager eyes, 
 looked on the torrent below, and on the 
 undaunted shepherd, who was already, 
 by means of the hanging brushwood, 
 swinging himself down the most abrupt 
 side of the rock. 
 
 " What's the matter, you blubbering 
 fool ?" exclaimed Vidal, alarmed and sur- 
 prised at the scene. 
 
 " Matter enough," said Gaspard. 
 
 " Oh!" cried Simon, ** the perversity 
 of that mule!" 
 
 M 3
 
 246 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 *' What of my mule — I hope she is 
 safe ?" eagerly inquired the Consul. 
 
 '* That's more than I can tell," said 
 Simon, '* till yonder stripling brings up 
 the news. But it's all your own fault, 
 master, I must say; you should have 
 taught the beast to be less stubborn, or you 
 should have taken her over with you, since 
 you are more used to her ways, and left 
 me to take care of myself, which is the 
 utmost I was ever good for, as my wife 
 tells me." 
 
 " And when am I to know what has 
 happened?" demanded the angry Consul. 
 
 *' You'll know it but too soon," said 
 Gaspard, coolly : " your mule made a 
 false step, in coming over this awkward 
 place, and she has fallen down the water- 
 fall, which is sure death to man and 
 beast." 
 
 A volley of oaths, and some sound
 
 PROTESTAXTS OP LANGLKDOC. 247 
 
 lashes from his riding- whip applied to 
 the shoulders of the luckless valet, was 
 the Consul's reply. 
 
 Simon vociferated lustily as he crouched 
 under the discipline, entreating his mas- 
 ter not to be so inhuman, but to listen to 
 the rights of the story. 
 
 *' And what more can I hear," cried 
 the Consul, after hearing that your care- 
 lessness has lost me a mule, that cost me 
 thirty double crowns ?" 
 
 " And it was thirty years ago, I be- 
 lieve," said Simon ; " but if she cost a 
 liundred, I can prove that the fault was 
 not in me, but in your own maxims. Ask 
 Gaspard if I did not coax and argue with 
 her, and stroke her in vain, — not a step 
 would she move : so, finding fair words of 
 no avail, I thought, as I have often heard 
 you say yourself, Sir, that hard blows 
 would answer better, and I struck her 
 
 M 4
 
 248 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 smartly. To be sure she did begin to 
 move fast enough, for she was down in 
 the valley before I could cry pecaireT 
 
 "I wish, with all my heart, you had 
 been on her back," cried the Consul. 
 
 They leant, as far as safety would per- 
 mit, over the railing, but the foam of the 
 water prevented their seeing any object 
 distinctly ; and the appearance of the 
 young shepherd climbing the steep with 
 the same agility he had descended, put 
 an end to whatever faint hope might yet 
 remain. He bore the mule's accoutre- 
 ments in his hand, and assured the Consul 
 that a couple of eagles already hovered 
 over their prey. 
 
 *' Farewell, poor Grizzy!" ejaculated 
 Simon, in a dolorous tone of voice ; *' we 
 have served and suffered long together, 
 and you have left me a hard legacy, if I 
 may judge by the specimen I have just 
 received.'*
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. 249 
 
 As there was no remedy, the Consul 
 put the saddle and bridle on Simon's 
 shoulders, and they proceeded towards 
 the hermitage; for in his heart he was 
 not, in the midst of his anger, insensible 
 to the benefit of having so good an excuse 
 to allege for claiming a night's hospitality. 
 
 The whole party arrived as Brother 
 Gabriel was rising from his evening's 
 devotions. His salutation was humble, 
 but he looked at the strangers with a cau- 
 tious glance of suspicion, that gave an 
 unpleasant appearance to his venerable 
 countenance ; then, turning to Pierre, he 
 inquired the cause of this visit. 
 
 Vidal hastened to reply, and, stating 
 their adventure, begged permission to 
 pass the night under his roof 
 
 The hermit shook his head, saying, 
 *' I am sorry it so occurs, for Christian 
 charity will scarcely allow my turning 
 
 M 5
 
 250 thecamisard; or, tub 
 
 away the weary traveller, and yet you can 
 hardly better your fate by remaining. A 
 damp cold vault is the only shelter I can 
 offer, and my fare is not only poor, but 
 scanty." 
 
 Vidal protested such considerations 
 were berieath his notice. 
 
 " Besides," added the Hermit, '* this 
 night is one of vigil with me, — I must not 
 indulge in your society." 
 
 Still Vidal persevered in his request, 
 and the Hermit, with a vexation he could 
 ill conceal, found himself forced to receive 
 them as his guests, whether he were in- 
 chned or no to play the part of an host. 
 Muttering something of his being taken 
 by surprise, and his mind engaged on 
 more important matters, he led the way 
 to his cell. 
 
 It was rude, as he represented it to be, 
 and the damp streaming down the walls
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 251 
 
 made Simon's teeth chatter in his head. 
 A broken table, on which lay a crucifix, 
 together with a few musty, worm-eaten 
 books, and some rough blocks of wood, 
 formed the only furniture ; and on one 
 side, where the rock was blackened by 
 the smoke, lay some dying embers, which 
 the hermit almost extinguished, by throw- 
 ing on them a heap of half-dried roots of 
 trees. 
 
 " Good Father," said the Consul, look- 
 ing round in some dismay, and drawing 
 his roquelaure closer about him, " I cannot 
 but admire your mortifications, though I 
 should be sorry to imitate them; for a 
 man might as well take possession of his 
 tomb at once, as shut himself up during 
 his life in such a place as this." 
 
 " Ah, my son," replied the Hermit, " it 
 is thus you worldlings always talk: I 
 warned you, before you entered, that it 
 
 M G
 
 262 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 would not suit your taste ; but I should 
 sooner have enticed you in, that here you 
 may meditate on the deceitfulness of all 
 that you most desire, and learn its worth- 
 lessness." 
 
 *' Thanks for your kindness," said 
 Vidal. " When I wish to make the dis- 
 coveries you mention, I shall certainly 
 come to you for counsel ; but at present, 
 in the vigour of life, with health, wealth, 
 and a tolerable share of authority to boot, 
 I should make but a curious contrast if I 
 sat myself down beside your pale visage 
 and spare mortified limbs.'* 
 
 '* Health, wealth, and authority!" re- 
 peated the Hermit, who seemed fond of an 
 opportunity to sermonise. " Is that all you 
 can boast of? and a clear conscience, and 
 peace of mind, — why are they not men- 
 tioned ? Are they treasures too mean to 
 be worth the counting : or are you like
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANQUKDOC. 253 
 
 the poor idiot, who gives his purse of 
 gold for a few counters, contented without 
 them." 
 
 The Consul looked as if he knew not 
 whether to answer in jest or seriously, 
 and at last said, *' Come, Father, you are 
 a little too hard upon me ; — you could not 
 press me more closely if I were already 
 kneeling at your confessional ; — you would 
 not have me display these treasures, as 
 you call them, like a vaunting spend- 
 thrift." 
 
 " My son," said the Hermit, if you 
 possess them, I give you joy : you are 
 safe without the austerities I practise ; 
 you can smile, even in the midst of peril ; 
 you can rejoice, though evil tidings come 
 thick upon you, for you fear not the sting 
 of remorse: it is that from which alone 
 we cannot flee, for it fixes itself in our 
 very heart's core, and its pangs no forget-
 
 254 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 fulness can dissipate, no reflections charm 
 away.'* 
 
 The Hermit paused, whether because 
 the subject was exhausted, or that he 
 had remarked the effect of his words on 
 the Consul, seemed uncertain ; but the 
 latter inwardly rejoiced that the rapid 
 approach of twilight made it difficult for 
 his host to scrutinize his countenance. 
 
 Simon, however, though great part of 
 the Hermit's discourse was unintelligible 
 to him, not only perceived that it was 
 displeasing to his master, but wearisome 
 to himself; and, willing to change the 
 subject to one more agreeable, took this 
 opportunity of interfering. " Most Reve- 
 rend Father Gabriel," he began, " since 
 that is your style, it would not become 
 me to interrupt you in the midst of a dis- 
 course, which is as fine as those v/e hear 
 on festivals and saints* days; therefore.
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LaNGUEDOC. 2j5 
 
 if you have more to add, I will be silent, 
 but if you have not, T must beg leave to 
 remark, that though it is growing late» 
 and hunger puts in her claim to attention, 
 I perceive no symptoms of supper — no 
 savoury smell assails my nose ; and not- 
 withstanding that I have been blowing 
 this fire till my breath fails, I cannot pro- 
 duce even a spark. I would, therefore, 
 fain know, if your night of vigil is a night 
 of fast also, and if I, who have no inten- 
 tions to watch, may not be permitted to 
 eat?" 
 
 '* Friend," replied the Hermit, " I have 
 already told you your appetite was not in 
 danger of being pampered here; — my 
 simple fare does not require much assist- 
 ance from cookery." So saying, he went 
 to a small cupboard made in the rock, 
 and took out a wooden bowl filled with 
 cold boiled chestnuts, and the remains of
 
 256 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 a brown loaf, together with an earthen 
 jar, which he desired Pierre to fill from 
 the fountain. These he placed on the 
 table, and signifying that it was against 
 his rule to eat with strangers, withdrew 
 from the cell. 
 
 Though Simon had lowered his ex- 
 pectations as much as possible, he was 
 not a little disappointed at this meagre 
 fare; and no sooner was the Hermit's 
 back turned, than he began to peep into 
 every corner and crevice, in hopes of find- 
 ing something more pleasing to his palate, 
 but the search was vain : the cell opened, 
 indeed, into others of larger dimensions 
 and greater gloom, but they appeared 
 entirely empty, and Simon was not suffi- 
 ciently courageous to explore them alone. 
 With many a wry face he sat down to 
 the chestnuts, joined by Gaspard, who 
 was too well used to mountain fare to
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC 257 
 
 complain ; and whenever he thought the 
 latter sufficiently engaged not to notice 
 what was passing, he drew from his 
 pocket the black pudding which Perrette 
 had so kindly bestowed upon him, and 
 gave it a hearty bite.
 
 258 THE CAHISA-RD ; OK, TUB 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 T dream'd the spectre Death appeard ! 
 I dream'd his hollow voice i heard ! 
 I gaz'd, when straight arose to sight 
 The most detested fiend of night. 
 From hell this frightful monster came, 
 Sin was his sire, and Guilt his name. 
 This Fury, with officious care, 
 Waited around his sovereign's chair, 
 In robes of terror dress'd the king. 
 And armd him with a baneful sting. 
 
 Cotton. 
 
 Meanwhile Pierre, who was watching 
 for an opportunity to speak to the Consul 
 without being observed, whispered him, 
 ** Can you attend to nie for a few minutes ?" 
 " WilUngly," replied the other, and 
 followed him along a narrow path, that 
 ascended to a smaller level of the rock, 
 above the hermitage, from whence a still
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANQUEDOC. 259 
 
 more sublime and extensive view pre- 
 sented itself, now faintly visible by the 
 light of myriads of sparkling stars. Here 
 they stood, for a short time, silent : the 
 nearer Vidal approached to the desired 
 moment, the more numerous were the 
 difficulties that offered themselves to his 
 imagination. It was necessary to suit 
 his proposition to the character and temper 
 of the young man, which to his versatile 
 genius might not be difficult, had he pos- 
 sessed any previous knowledge of what 
 these were, to guide him ; but Pierre's 
 countenance chiefly marked unbending 
 honesty, with a firmness somewhat allied 
 to obstinacy, — qualities which Vidal had 
 always found most difficult to deal with, 
 as they required a straightforwardness he 
 was averse to pursue. 
 
 Finding, however, that Pierre still con- 
 tinued silent, he ventured to inquire what
 
 260 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 he had to ask or to communicate, that 
 required such caution and privacy. 
 
 ** First, then," said Pierre, *' swear to 
 answer me faithfully." 
 
 An oath never impeded the Consul's 
 progress, nor was he troubled with the 
 delicacy that might have led him to be 
 offended at this implied doubt of his 
 honour and veracity. 
 
 " Tell me," said Pierre, " why, as we 
 ascended the height, you boasted, in s^o 
 significant a manner, of having been the 
 friend of the Baron de Courcy, whom I 
 should have thought almost without a 
 friend." 
 
 " I will answer you," said Vidal, '* as 
 briefly as possible. I wished to gain 
 your attention to a circumstance that may 
 concern you nearly. You may judge of 
 his regard for me, when I tell you he 
 confided to my superintendence his only
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. :^ I 
 
 son, who, notwithstanding my utmost vi- 
 gilance, was wrested from my protection. 
 After a fruitless search, I was forced to 
 mourn him as dead ; but circumstances 
 have not only of late convinced me this 
 opinion was erroneous, but lead me to the 
 certain conclusion, that you are the long 
 lost heir of that noble family." 
 
 "Is it possible?" exclaimed Pierre. 
 *' Beware how you trifle with me ! — 
 remember your oath !'* 
 
 " You might equally depend on rne 
 without it," said Vidal. '* Do you think 
 a bare surmise would have led me such a 
 ^eary w^ay as I have already travelled, in 
 search of you? Besides, had I any he- 
 sitation, your noble appearance—the dig 
 nity of your manners — your superiority 
 to the vulgar herd, would convince mc 
 that I am right." 
 
 " Peace with such vain babbhng." said
 
 262 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 Pierre, interrupting him, with a look of 
 indignation, *' or I shall disbelieve every 
 word you utter. I know I am rough and 
 untutored, blunt in speech, and unfit for 
 polished life : if, as you say, and if, as at 
 times it has been whispered to me, for- 
 tune has placed my path so high, I can 
 see but too well that nature has not se- 
 conded her design. I am not yet pre- 
 pared for high achievements, or a superior 
 destiny ; but the time may come, when 
 glory shall be more familiar to my mind, 
 and when I shall assert my birthright, if 
 I have a birthright, by such a signal ven- 
 geance on my enemies, as shall compel 
 all men to say I am not unworthy of the 
 name you give me. Yet, before I indulge 
 in these ideas, tell me what reason you 
 have for encouraging me in such a belief." 
 Vidal, thus challienged, artfully related 
 what was necessary to confirm his opinion,
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 263 
 
 not omitting the previous misfortunes of 
 the Baron, and the probable suspicion 
 that the unhappy Louise had carried off 
 the child, in a fit of apprehension respect- 
 ing his future destiny. In the whole ac- 
 count, truth was so artfully mingled with 
 falsehood, that it would have been difficult 
 for Pierre, even had he been better ac- 
 quainted with the circumstances, to dis- 
 entangle them. 
 
 The young shepherd listened with 
 eagerness : his bosom appeared to swell, 
 and his countenance to expand with in- 
 telligence, as the proofs brought forward 
 by Vidal agreed more and more with 
 what he had previously heard ; and when 
 the Consul ceased speaking, he stood for 
 some time, with his hands clasped on his 
 forehead, as if sunk in deep reflection. He 
 then said, " What you have now told me 
 answers, I must confess, to what I have
 
 264 THK camisard; or, ths 
 
 already gathered from the vague, though 
 often contradictory hints, of one, too good 
 wilfully to mislead me, yet too sorely 
 afflicted to be implicitly relied on. I 
 know not what to think, and still less do 
 I know how to act." 
 
 '' Then be guided by me," said Vidal. 
 *' Have you any reason to suspect me?" 
 
 " Certainly not," said Pierre, '* nor as 
 
 yet any cause for thinking you my friend." 
 
 '' What!" exclaimed Vidal,—" Would 
 
 any but a friend have used such pains and 
 
 diligence in tracing you out?" 
 
 /' Possibly not," replied Pierre ; " but 
 suspicion is one of the few lessons I have 
 learned during my short life. Do not, 
 however, be offended : you may be mis- 
 taken, but can hardly wilfully deceive, 
 because nothing is to be gained by the 
 deception, and human depravity is hardly 
 so great, as to induce you to disgrace a
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUBDOC. 265 
 
 noble house, by forcing a stranger on its 
 honours." 
 
 *' Well, then," said Vidal, ^' if all you 
 want is confirmation of my words, I can 
 put you in a way to obtain it. The testi- 
 mony of the Prior of St. Roc cannot be 
 doubtful, since, in finding you, he finds 
 an heir to the property he has so ably 
 administered ; yet he is not only willing, 
 but desirous, of surrendering his rights to 
 their lawful owner. All I ask is, that 
 you should accompany me to him, — his 
 heart yearns to acknowledge you. Sus- 
 pend every investigation — check every 
 anxious feeling, till you are in his pre- 
 sence ; and if (which is, in fact, allowing 
 an impossibihty) he fail in convincing 
 you that you were bom to wealth and 
 i^randcur, I pledge myself to conduct you 
 back to this desert, from whence I would 
 =^0 willingly draw you." 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 266 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 Here, he stopped, but finding Pierre 
 raised no objection to his scheme, pressed 
 upon his attention the necessity of strict 
 SQcrecy for the present, since a matter of 
 so much moment ought not to become the 
 subject of men's busy doubts and conjec- 
 tures. The secrecy was soon promised ; 
 and Pierre, ignorant of the Prior s cha- 
 racter, and simply supposing him guided 
 by such rules of justice as all men profess 
 to obey, was throwing himself bhndly 
 into the snare laid for him, when Vidal, 
 with the innate meanness of a sycophant, 
 willing to give the young Baron, as he 
 termed him, a short taste of the pleasures 
 of power, expressed a hope, that, when 
 raised to the height of prosperity, he 
 would not be unmindful of one who had 
 not neglected him in adversity. 
 
 " I am little used to bestow favours," 
 replied Pierre, " but surely my heart
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGfUEDOC. 267 
 
 must be ungrateful indeed, if I suffer the 
 messenger of such good news to go un- 
 rewarded. Tell me, however, to whom I 
 am so much indebted ?" 
 
 ** My name," replied the Consul, " is 
 Dominic Vidal ; I am Consul of Valle- 
 rargues, and Receiver to the Lord Prior 
 of St. Roc, at your service." 
 
 Scarcely were the words uttered, when 
 the countenance of the youth assumed a 
 look of horror it is impossible to express, 
 and he started back, as if a viper had 
 suddenly turned under his foot. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" said Vidal, 
 rather alarmed. '' Is there any thing in 
 my name that terrifies you thus V* 
 
 '* There is nothing about you can terrify 
 me," said Pierre, contemptuously ; " but 
 there is that in your words,— nay, in your 
 very look, that poisons the air in which 
 you breathe. And could you dare address 
 
 N 2
 
 268 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 yourself to me, false, deceitful, cold- 
 hearted villain ? Could you dare to stand 
 the chance of my being ignorant of your 
 crimes, or the still weaker chance, that 
 with their history Louise did not infuse 
 into my soul the thirst of unextinguishable 
 revenge? Fool that I was, to be so 
 blinded by ambition, as for a moment to 
 give credit to your artful tale. Did you 
 think I could be led to suppose one gene- 
 rous movement prompted your actions, 
 or that you would do good if it were pos- 
 sible to do evil ? No ; now I see through 
 the flimsy web, and I despise it. You 
 thought that while I lived, there lived a 
 revenger, who, sooner or later, would 
 overtake you; and you hoped thus to 
 lure me to destruction. Whether a high 
 destiny awaits me. Heaven alone can de- 
 termine ; yet I would rather lead the life 
 of a slave, than be conducted to freedom
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 269 
 
 and independence by your hand. But 
 why do I waste my moments in vain re- 
 proaches, with such an object to stir my 
 indignation before me ? It is Providence 
 that throws you into my power at the 
 moment you hoped to have mastered me, 
 and I must obey its voice." 
 
 So saying, with a sudden spring, he 
 threw himself upon the astonished Consul, 
 who, thus taken unawares, was unable 
 to defend himself Already had he lifted 
 him from the ground and borne him to the 
 edge of the rock, at the foot of which the 
 loud rolling torrent seemed hoarsely call- 
 ing for its prey. In vain the unhappy 
 wretch, recollecting his last night's dream, 
 struggled against a force that seemed to 
 have paralyzed all his limbs, and with 
 loud shrieks entreated for mercy. All 
 was now over with him ; and in that 
 awful moment the horrors of an undone 
 
 N 3
 
 270 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 eternity rushed upon his soul, and with 
 unutterable anguish augmented the pre- 
 sent agony. 
 
 One foot placed on the stump of an old 
 tree that overhung the rock, Pierre stood 
 with his victim suspended over empty 
 space, and there wanted but the loosening 
 of his grasp to precipitate him into the 
 abyss, when he suddenly exclaimed, — 
 " Has she not said, let him repent before 
 he die ?" The recollection saved the Con- 
 sul's life. With the feelings of a man 
 who flings a venomous reptile far from 
 him, he threw him back again on the 
 ground, and, as if afraid of trusting him- 
 self with another view of so hateful an 
 object, rushed down the path, and in a 
 moment had traversed the bridge. So 
 rapid was his flight, that Gaspard and 
 Simon, who ran from the Hermit's cell oil 
 he?iring the screams, declared themselves
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. 271 
 
 uncertain whether a spirit or a man had 
 passed them, and on finding the Consul 
 stretched on the ground, and half dead 
 with terror, were ready to give credit to 
 any story he was pleased to frame, in 
 order to account for the state in which 
 they saw him. He w^as led back to the 
 cell, whither the Hermit had also returned, 
 alarmed by his cries, and begged per- 
 mission to retire immediately to repose, 
 which was granted ; and he was conducted, 
 with his two companions, into an inrter 
 cave, where some dried leaves and musty 
 straw were spread for couches. 
 
 Gaspard and Simon, stretching them- 
 selves in one corner, soon fell into a state 
 of happy forgetfulness, but the Consul 
 felt in his mind the perturbation of scarcely 
 secure existence, and a sense of recent 
 danger and present safety, too keen to 
 afford unmixed pleasure. Even when his 
 
 N 4
 
 272 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 ideas became more calm, and he could 
 reflect on the circumstances which had 
 just occurred, his feelings were those of 
 despondency. A much longer space of 
 time, than had been granted by the Prior, 
 was now elapsed, and he seemed farther 
 than ever from the success of his search. 
 Yet he could form no plausible pretext to 
 soften his patron's disappointment, and 
 no plan occurred to him that promised to 
 overcome his difficulties. 
 
 In the midst of the feverish restless- 
 ness that accompanied these musings, the 
 hours of darkness rolled slowly by, and 
 sleep seemed farther than ever from his 
 eyes. It was not, therefore, without 
 much surprise, that, in the middle of the 
 night, when the Consul imagined even his 
 host's vigil must be ended, he perceived a 
 light in the outer cell, glimmering through 
 a crevice in the rock, which, till then, he
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANQUEDOC. 273 
 
 had not perceived. Desirous of giving 
 a new direction to his thoughts, and cu- 
 rious to observe the conduct of the Her- 
 mit, he softly placed himself so as to be 
 able to look through the chink, and saw 
 that Brother Gabriel had placed a lamp 
 on the rude window of his cell, and was 
 employed in rousing the mouldering em- 
 bers, near which he had set the table, 
 spread with much more inviting cheer 
 than that which he had offered to the tra- 
 vellers. " Ah," thought the Consul, " the 
 cunning old man keeps a joyous vigil in 
 good sooth. I wonder not that he was . 
 unwilling to damp his appetite before- 
 hand. I doubt not but the life of a re- 
 cluse is agreeable enough in private, how- 
 ever rude the exterior may be." — The 
 Hermit, having arranged all to his wish, 
 lighted another lamp, and drew near the 
 inner cell on tiptoe ; nor was it without 
 
 N 5
 
 ^^3^4 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 some alarm that the Consul saw him 
 enter, and approaching the two men, wave 
 his lamp to ^nd fro before their eyes, to 
 be assured their slumber was sound ; he 
 next visited the Consul, who, half dead 
 with fear, thought it most prudent to feign 
 a profound sleep, and happily succeeded. 
 After this inspection, he closed after him 
 a heavy wooden door, v/hich be bolted on 
 the putside. 
 
 With his curiosity quickened by his 
 apprehensions, the Consul again applied 
 himself to the chink ; but he was obliged 
 to rub his eyes, and satisfy himself he 
 was really awake, before he could give 
 credit to what he saw. Three men soon 
 after entered, in dress and air resembling 
 the smugglers, who he well knew carried 
 on a lucrative trade amongst the recesses 
 of the mountains, and were received by 
 the Hermit with a fraternal embrace, and
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANQUEDOC. 275 
 
 a significant sign to keep silence. The 
 men looked surprised ; but the Hermit, as 
 appeared to the Consul, made them sensi- 
 ble they were not alone, and that the least 
 noise might betray them. One of the 
 men, thrusting his hand into his bosom, 
 and stepping forward, seemed willing to 
 adopt a summary mode of preventing mis- 
 chief, but the others held him back, and 
 on their host's invitation, they sat down 
 to supper, where the indulgence of their 
 voracious appetite made some amends 
 for the restraint on their discourse, carried 
 on only in whispers. Supper ended, 
 they left the cell, and soon returned laden 
 with some small barrels, tin cases, and 
 bags, apparently containing shot, and to 
 the Consul's extreme amazement, ap- 
 peared to deposit them in the very heart 
 of the rock ; and, again going out, re- 
 turned with several brace of pistols, old- 
 
 N 6
 
 276 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 fashioned guns, daggers, and swords, 
 which they concealed in the same manner. 
 When all was finished, each tossed off a 
 cup of what, from its effluvia, seemed a far 
 different liquor from that which the foun- 
 tain afforded, and again embracing the 
 Hermit, and receiving his fresh instruc- 
 tions, they withdrew, jingling the money 
 with which he had satisfied them. He 
 stood at the door, till it was probable his 
 ear no longer caught the faint echo of 
 their steps ; then, extinguishing the light 
 in the window, busied himself with effa- 
 cing every trace that might be left of his 
 nocturnal guests, and when his caution 
 was satisfied, lay down to rest till the 
 morning's dawn should rouse him to a 
 life of mortification and constraint. 
 
 Surprise and fear yielded, in the Con- 
 sul's bosom, to the pleasure he felt at 
 having so important a communication to
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC 277 
 
 make to his patron. He found it difficult 
 to conceive, whether these strange in- 
 truders were, as their appearance bespoke 
 them, smugglers, who frequently travelled 
 through the country to supply the moun- 
 taineers with spirits, unencumbered with 
 the heavy duties of excise, or miscreants 
 who assumed their disguise for still more 
 iniquitous purposes. There was another 
 supposition, still more suited to his usual 
 suspicious temper, and which, if satisfac- 
 tory, would go far to prove, that he had 
 not spoken at random, when he had, with 
 the air of a man possessing important 
 secret information, frequently declared to 
 the Prior, that, in a short time, men would 
 liear of what would astonish them, and 
 filled his ear with endless conjectures of 
 schemes and plots, which he was ready, 
 by every petty act of tyranny in his 
 power, to provoke. Though the pro-
 
 278 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 vince of Languedoc was gradually sub- 
 siding into a state of tranquillity after the 
 violent agitations by which it had been 
 so long rent, during the struggles of the 
 Protestants to obtain those privileges, of 
 which even slaves are rarely deprived; 
 yet, here and there, a few active spirits 
 were still dispersed, whose zeal prevailed 
 over their prudence, and whose wish to 
 wrest justice from the hand of power, 
 made them insensible to the inadequacy 
 of the means they could employ. Nor 
 was the state of the Protestants, though 
 they still laboured under many disadvan- 
 tages, such as authorized a recourse to 
 violence. They were despised, though 
 seldom persecuted; but this contempt, 
 while it was perhaps harder to bear than 
 open oppression, was not a sufficient 
 motive to nerve the patriot's arm, or 
 kindle the martyr's courage. According
 
 PROTIESTANTS OF LANOUBDOC 
 
 279 
 
 to the temper of the magistrates, the per- 
 sons of whom I am speaking, were either 
 soothed into patience, or irritated into acts 
 of violence, the effects of which always 
 fell heavily on themselves ; and the Con- 
 sul of Vallerargues was so well aware 
 which course he had pursued, that it was 
 natural for him to foresee disturbances and 
 insurrection. It was also well known, 
 that smugglers had often been employed 
 in former times to procure provisions and 
 ammunition for the disaffected, and of late 
 their number had been remarked to in- 
 crease, which, added to the probability 
 of his conjecture. At all events, what- 
 ever was the aim of these midnight vota- 
 ries at the Hermit's cell, Vidal felt that the 
 intelligence would be a powerful counter- 
 balance in his favour, and amidst the float- 
 ing projects that crowded into his imagi- 
 nation, he fell asleep with more agreeable
 
 2§0 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 sensations than he had dared to hope 
 would for some time visit him. 
 
 On awaking the next morning, the door 
 was open. Simon and Gaspard had 
 strolled out to enjoy the early freshness of 
 a lovely day, and the hermitage presented 
 so completely the appearance of the dwell- 
 ing of a holy anchorite, while the Hermit 
 met him with such a saintly and mortified 
 demeanour, that the Consul was half 
 inclined to think the smugglers, guns, and 
 swords, but the phantoms of a disturbed 
 imagination, and the effect of his last 
 evening's alarm. However, he had too 
 much reason for wishing the contrary, to 
 indulge long in this fancy ; and, after 
 breakfast, without appearing to watch the 
 Hermit's countenance too closely, he la- 
 mented the necessity he was under of 
 still intruding on his hospitality, but pro- 
 fessed, he found himself unable to pur-
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUBDOC. 281 
 
 sue his journey on foot, and therefore 
 must beg permission to remain his guest 
 until Simon should repair to Vallerargues 
 for a mule, to replace that which his care- 
 lessness had lost. 
 
 Whether Brother Gabriel possessed 
 great command of countenance, or that 
 he was now indifferent if he remained or 
 no, he received the declaration without 
 discomposure, simply regretting that his 
 vow of retirement would prevent his 
 being a very sociable host. 
 
 The Consul next drew Simon aside, to 
 tutor him for his expedition, which was 
 no easy task. After recommending great 
 despatch, he gave him a few lines, which 
 he was to deliver to the Prior of St. Roc, 
 and charging him not even to pass through 
 Vallerargues, concluded with assurances 
 of reward, if he was diligent, and of 
 fearful punishment, should he delay his
 
 282 
 
 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 return. At one moment, the Consul had 
 some thoughts of being his own messen- 
 ger ; but, added to his fear of finding 
 himself in the Prior's hands, without ful- 
 filling his engagement, he thought it best 
 to remain at the hermitage, as a spy on 
 the proceedings that might be carried on. 
 
 Simon promised fair, and as he started 
 no difficulties, and asked no questions, it 
 was to be hoped he perfectly understood, 
 and would correctly fulfil his charge. 
 Sorely was his vanity tried by the nume- 
 rous repetitions with which the Consul 
 tutored him, lest his memory should 
 prove treacherous ; at length, he declared 
 he had nothing more to add, and Simon 
 took him at his word, remarking to his 
 companion Gaspard, " My master is a 
 wearisome man, it must be owned. You 
 see he sends me home on business of the 
 greatest consequence, and yet goes on
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 283 
 
 directing me as if I had not sense enough 
 to carry me there. I wonder he does 
 not come after to see if it is well done at 
 last." 
 
 The Consul returned slowly to the cell, 
 and comforted himself with recollecting 
 instances of acuteness in poor Simon, 
 which seemed to prove his stupidity was 
 not impenetrable. The remainder of that 
 day he took up, and pretended to read, 
 some tattered volumes of the Legends of 
 the Saints, which time and damp had 
 spared, or watched the varying forms of 
 the swift-flying clouds, as their shadows 
 passed over the mountains. On the fol- 
 lowing, he was more pleasingly occupied 
 by the expectation of his messenger's 
 return. The third was spent in alternate 
 fears and hopes ; and on the next, his 
 alarm and impatience were so much in- 
 creased, that he took a hasty leave of his
 
 284 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 unsociable host, and pursued the way to 
 Vallerargues on foot ; an achievement 
 which no other consideration would have 
 induced him to undertake, and Avhich, but 
 for occasional assistance, and lifts he met 
 with on the way, he might never have been 
 able to perform.
 
 PR0T8STANT3 0? LKSQUEDOC 28.> 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Ciascuno apra ben g-li orecchi 
 Di doman nessun si paschi, 
 Og^g-i sian, giovani e vecchi 
 
 Lieti ognun, femmine e maschi, 
 Og"ni tristo pcnsicr caschi 
 
 Facciam festa tuttavia ; 
 Chi vuol esser lieto sia, 
 Di doraan non ci e certezza. 
 
 Doiiue e g"iovinetti aiuanti, 
 Viva Bacco, e viva Atnore, 
 Ciasciiii suoni, balii, e canti, 
 Anla di dt)lcezza il tore : 
 Non fatica, non dulore, 
 Quel oh' ha esser, convien sia; 
 Chi vuol esser lieto sia, 
 Di domau, non n c cerCezzn. 
 
 Loren:io d» Mfiiri. 
 
 Bl't while the Consul was thus wcaryinj> 
 himself at the hermitage, Simon and his 
 'ompiimon proceeded gaily along, with
 
 286 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 that jocund freedom and familiarity which 
 form the charm of life amongst the less 
 polished orders of society. Sometimes 
 relating strange wonders and fearful ad- 
 ventures, sometimes making the echoes 
 ring to scraps of old romances, most 
 grievously devoid of harmony and mea- 
 sure. The way was not tedious, and 
 after quitting the mountainous district, 
 they traversed the country surrounding 
 the little town of Sauve, which presents 
 many singularities of scenery rarely met 
 with elsewhere. It is almost entirely 
 covered with rocks, which have been split 
 into the most fantastic forms. Amongst 
 these, there appears scarcely sufficient 
 soil to nourish the smallest moss or plant ; 
 and yet in their crevices, the inexhaustible 
 fertility of nature has deposited the seeds 
 or kernels of almost every fruit that the 
 climate favours, and which flourish with
 
 PRQTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 287 
 
 a luxuriance unknown in spots apparently 
 more propitious to their growth. Some 
 of these rocks are shaded by the broad- 
 leafed fig, bearing twice in the year its 
 store of green and purple fruit ; on 
 others, the greatest profusion of cherry, 
 peach, apricot, cornel, and plumb-trees 
 are found ; and in the months of April and 
 May the richness and luxuriance of their 
 blossoms can scarcely be imagined, 
 strongly contrasting with the barrenness 
 of the scene they adorn, and as if lavished 
 by the bounty of some beneficent fairy. 
 Scarcely have these thrown off their 
 bloom, than the rocks are anew adorned 
 with clusters of double roses, which, in 
 colour and smell, rival those of the par- 
 terre ; and the caper, with its dark shining 
 leaves and milk-white flowers, enlivened 
 by a light purple tuft, creeps round their 
 base.
 
 288 THE CA.MISARD; OR, THE 
 
 The town of Sauve, though now a place 
 of small consequence, was the theatre of 
 many of the achievements of the hardy 
 Camisards, and the scene of the ludicrous 
 transformation of one of their chiefs into 
 a royalist commander, by means of which 
 he not only surprised the garrison, but 
 was received and feasted by the high and 
 haughty De Vibrac, then lord of the place, 
 who unwillingly subjected himself to such 
 a degradation. At present, little of stra- 
 tagem, and not much of war, is carried 
 on there ; for it would be ungenerous to 
 give credit to the calumnies raised against 
 the peaceful females of the place, and the 
 feudal power of the seigneurs, cut down 
 by the Revolution, is scarcely remem- 
 bered in the insignificance of a petty 
 country town. 
 
 It was noon when our travellers, after 
 passing a bridge over the Vidourle, which
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 289 
 
 rolls its clear and rapid current through 
 Sauve, reached the market-place, and, 
 had such an important circumstance 
 escaped their memory, the sounds, of mer- 
 riment that were heard would quickly 
 have reminded them that this was one of 
 the last days of Carnival. 
 
 ** Ah!*' exclaimed Simon, '* it's an ill 
 wind that blows no one good ; if it had 
 not been for the death of poor Grizzy, I 
 should now be trudging after my master, 
 who is a complete spoil-sport, and have 
 given a side-look at the boys and girls, 
 while my feet could scarcely be kept from 
 joining them ; but Fm of another sort, as 
 you shall see.'* 
 
 So saying, he ran forward to where a 
 motley band, dressed in the most grotesque 
 manner, and with loud laughter and shouts 
 of mirth, were dancing with a degree of 
 enjoyment peculiar to their nation, and 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 290 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 hardly to be understood by strangers. 
 Simon broke the ring without ceremony, 
 by seizing the hands of two stout vine- 
 dressers, disguised in the holiday suits 
 that had adorned their grandmothers ; 
 and making signs to Gaspard to follow 
 his example, was soon lost to every idea 
 but the frenzied delight of the present 
 moment. When the dance was ended, 
 the party, pleased with the gaiety of the 
 Strangers, insisted on drinking to the 
 prosperity of their journey; and they 
 accordingly repaired to the cabaret, where 
 the young men of the dance were accus- 
 tomed to end the day in feast and revelry. 
 Mine host of the cabaret was a man 
 who loved news almost as well as he 
 loved customers, and now stood in the 
 full enjoyment of both these inclinations, 
 in the midst of a noisy group, all eager 
 io talk, and inclined by the hilarity of the 
 moment to talk without reserve.
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC 291 
 
 " And where may you be from, gentle- 
 men?" he inquired, as soon as he gathered 
 from the strangers' countenances that his 
 freedom would not be displeasing. *' You 
 are going on business, I suppose, to the 
 low country, or perhaps returning from a 
 visit in the mountains .' You must have 
 had a cold journey, for they tell me Spring 
 never travels up so high ; and you won't 
 object to a cheerful glass, and a mouthful 
 to stay your hunger." 
 
 Simon, not to be wanting in politeness, 
 and pretty communicative by nature, sa- 
 tisfied his curiosity; at the same time 
 adding, ** a man must be a born fool to 
 refuse such an offer ; but it is of great 
 consequence that I should not be kept 
 long, for I have a letter of importance to 
 deliver into the hands of the Prior of St. 
 Roc, which my master would trust to no 
 one else." 
 
 o 2
 
 292 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 ** And who is your master ?*' cried a 
 voice from among the crowd. 
 
 Simon turned round, and perceived, 
 with some astonishment, seated on a stone 
 bench at the front of the house, the pil- 
 grim Father Bernardino, who was well 
 known to him, from his visits at Valle- 
 rargues. 
 
 " Who is my master, do you ask. Fa- 
 ther," said Simon. " If you knew me, you 
 would him; but as age has, perhaps, 
 dimmed your eye-sight, I tell you that I 
 am Simon Chas, valet de ville, at your 
 service, and my master is Dominic Vidal, 
 consul, at no man's service, I can promise 
 you, unless he is well paid for it." 
 
 *' Then you are on your way to your 
 village," replied the Pilgrim, " and I 
 would gladly bear you company on the 
 Toad, for I do not care to pass alone 
 through the midst of so many, drunk, as
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC 293 
 
 it were, with the vain pleasures of the 
 time." 
 
 Simon's countenance fell at these words. 
 He had always found it very difficult to 
 give a plain, direct refusal ; and yet the 
 society of the Reverend Father would, he 
 feared, prove a check on the gaiety he 
 felt peculiarly inclined to indulge. This 
 comes, thought he, of turning out of my 
 way, when I ought to have been thinking 
 of my errand. ** But, Sir," he continued 
 aloud, ** much as I should value your 
 society, I must now forego it, as my bu- 
 siness leads me to St. Roc, and I am 
 even forbidden to enter Vallerargues, ou 
 pain of a penance on my shoulders." 
 
 ** That need be no hinderance," replied 
 the Pilgrim : '' I am well known at St. 
 R(.)c, and to a wanderer every point of 
 the compass points home." 
 
 Simon had no olhcs excuse to oftcr, 
 
 O 3
 
 294 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 but determined, under pretence of haste, 
 to step on with such agility that the poor 
 old man should be unable to keep up 
 with him. As soon, therefore, as he had 
 partaken of what was offered him, with 
 the additional satisfaction of knowing his 
 new acquaintances were to treat him, he 
 set out to put his device in execution; 
 but, contrary to his expectation, the Pil- 
 grim seemed endued with unusual vigour, 
 and so far from being left behind, fairly 
 exhausted the breath of the panting valet, 
 who was unused to much exertion. 
 
 At the next village Simon again thought 
 it necessary to recruit, for here too plea- 
 sure and mirth were ready to entice him ; 
 and, in short, overcome by the jollity he 
 everywhere met, and the kindness of his 
 acquaintance, who thickened in number 
 as he drew nearer home, and forced him, 
 not unwillingly, to pledge them in re-
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LAVGUEDOC. 295 
 
 peated bumpers, before the evening closed, 
 he was far beyond what is considered 
 the point of pleasurable excitement. His 
 words became, by degrees, more inco- 
 herent — his ideas more clouded ; the past, 
 present, and future, floated before him 
 with the rapidity and broken ness of the 
 visions of slumber, till, at length, he was 
 lost to all consciousness, and on awaking, 
 after some hours* sound sleep, perceived 
 he was extended by tlie side of the road, 
 deserted by his companions, and the 
 bright stars of heaven shining on his folly. 
 It was long before he could be assured it 
 was not a dream, but the chilly night air 
 soon convinced him to the contrary. Ris- 
 ing, therefore, in haste, he staggered along 
 with unsteady steps, and, guided by 
 instinct rather than reflection, found him- 
 self at the entrance of Vallerargues before 
 he had even perceived whither he was 
 
 o 4
 
 296 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THB 
 
 going. With the well-known sight, old 
 ideas and recollections returned. It was 
 midnight, and just as he arrived the an- 
 nual procession was parading the streets, 
 whose approach makes the heart of every 
 rustic belle beat with expectation. It 
 consists of a troop of young men, accom- 
 panied by a hautboy, who stop at the 
 dwellings of their fair ones, and mark the 
 door with a burning taper, while at the 
 same time the music strikes up, and the 
 troop join in the simple air that accom- 
 panies these words in the provincial 
 dialect of the country : 
 
 Accampas d'yio filletta, accampas d'yio, 
 
 Auras d' Haubaide 
 
 Lou divendre, lou dijeano ! 
 
 Heavily passes the night with the young 
 girl who is not the object of this honour, 
 which is not,, however, wholly disinte- 
 rested, since, as the song commands.
 
 PROTESTWTS OF LANGUEDOC. 297 
 
 tliey are expected to be provided with 
 eggs, dried raisins, sweetmeats, and other 
 simple provision?, or even money, which 
 is collected on tlie following morning, by 
 the same troop, leading about a boy 
 clothed in rags, and seated on an ass 
 between two immense panniers, and 
 known by the name of *' the Carnival." 
 This contribution goes to aid the feasting, 
 which closes this season of rejoicing, and 
 ushers in Lent. 
 
 To this merry troop Simon hastened to 
 join himself, nothing loth to give the 
 reins to his fancy, and recal the happy 
 moments of youthful liberty, vvhicii he 
 had exchanged for matrimonial bondage 
 and the cares of olfice. 
 
 In the morning fresh follies ofiered 
 themselves. The " Masquers (luainf* 
 were again abroad, and the scenes of the 
 last day renewed with spirits undepressed 
 
 o 5
 
 298 tHB camisard; or, thb 
 
 and limbs unwearied. Here a party of 
 stout labourers frisked about, in flowing 
 skirts and old-fashioned coefFes ; there 
 another set, in more grotesque apparel, 
 followed a Savoyard, who led by a chain 
 and muzzle a man covered with black 
 sheep-skins, and imitating the awkward 
 motions of a dancing bear ; a little far- 
 ther children and young girls were dis- 
 guised in the picturesque dresses of the 
 neighbouring provinces, or, with coquet- 
 tish airs, exchanged their every-day cos- 
 tume for the garb in which poetry has 
 decked the shepherds and shepherdesses 
 of Arcadia. Here an immense wig half 
 concealed the laughing face of a boy of 
 fifteen ; there, the military hat and feather 
 gave an air of impudence to his lively 
 sister. At one corner, a pretended quack 
 doctor excited peals of laughter by his 
 exquisite imitation ; at another, a recruit-
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUKDOC. 299 
 
 ing Serjeant dealt his blows on a set of 
 raw recruits, whose well- feigned stupidity 
 was equally diverting. Here a cracked 
 drum, and there a squeaking fiddle, set 
 all in motion. Songs resounded from 
 every quarter ; shouts and screams of joy 
 rent the air, and seemed the utterance of 
 spirits too buoyant for control. Nor wa3 
 the dance forgotten by this dance-loving 
 people. Under a long row of mulberry 
 trees, where the aged sat looking on, and 
 lamenting the pleasant days they remem- 
 bered as so superior to the present, the 
 light- footed pairs assembled, dressed in 
 white, their hats and caps ornamented 
 with pink ribands : nothing aukward 
 was to be seen in their movements, and 
 many a court lady might have envied the 
 grace of these village girls. All was 
 bustle— all was mirth ; men, women, and 
 children, seized with one common frcn2:y. 
 
 o
 
 300 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 Subordination forgotten, authority laid 
 aside, were the order of the day. Care 
 was banished — thoughtlessness reigned 
 undisturbed; and there was no uncon- 
 cerned spectator to stand by, as if survey- 
 ing one vast Bedlam, and pity or smile 
 at the annual insanity of his fellow-crea- 
 tures. I speak of the last century, for 
 the extravagance of the custom is fast 
 declining. When men cease to be slaves, 
 they have a sufficient relish for life to 
 dispense with the stimulus of a periodi- 
 cal fit of madness. 
 
 On tlie evening of the same day that 
 the Consul left the hermitage, Simon, 
 having, upon the principle that " the ab- 
 sent and the dead are but as pictures,*' 
 prevailed oo Perrette to lend him a suit 
 of his master's clothes, was personating 
 him hair over the village, and with the 
 freedom which the Carnival allows, even
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 301 
 
 ventured with a band of his fellow- 
 masquers into the precincts of Mademoi- 
 selle Costers apartment, where that lady, 
 with tliree or four of kindred taste, sat 
 lamenting the follies of the time, and 
 longing to be forced into a participation 
 of them. 
 
 The jovial Simon was already at the 
 damsel's feet, and, in his assumed cha- 
 racter, pouring into her ear the declaration 
 of a violent passion. The fair one lis- 
 tened, and smiled, with affected displea- 
 sure, but secret satisfaction ; for such 
 sounds, even in jest, are delightful to 
 female ears unused to their music ; when 
 the door opened, and there rushed in a 
 crowd of women and children, headed by 
 no' less unwelcome a visiter than the 
 Consul himself, who arrived just in time 
 to see how well he could be represented. 
 Poor Simon started up. There was a
 
 302 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 momentary pause, occasioned by the drol- 
 lery of the scene, for, the mask excepted, 
 it seemed difficult to say which was " le 
 vrai Amphytrion ;" only, it w^as remarked, 
 that the real Consul looked as he appeared 
 to his inferiors, and his terrified prototype 
 resembled him when crouching before his 
 superiors. 
 
 But too much anger was bursting forth 
 from every quarter for the silence to be 
 prolonged, and a volley of abuse soon 
 made the unhappy valet regret his short- 
 lived ambition. There was on one side 
 Leah Coste, who began to be ashamed of 
 the liberty taken with her tender senti- 
 ments ; there was on the other, Simon's 
 spouse, who, tearing the mask from his 
 face, now ascertained, what hs:d already 
 been hinted to her, that her husband, in- 
 stead of returning with wonted submission 
 under her conjugal care, was frolicking
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LAN'OaKDDC. 303 
 
 away his time, cash, and credit, in idle 
 fooleries ; there was a crowd always 
 ready to rail against an unsuccessful 
 joker; and, more formidable than all, 
 there was his master, and with his appear- 
 ance returned the recollection of the 
 charge he had not only left unfulfilled, 
 but totally forgotten. Vidal, his face pale, 
 and his under lip trembling with rage, 
 seized him by the collar, exclaiming, 
 *• Do you know me, you villain ?" 
 
 ** Yes, indeed," replied Simon, — " it 
 does not require three eyes to do that; 
 and — and,** endeavouring to loosen the 
 firm grasp that threatened to choke him, 
 ** you're welcome home, Sir." 
 
 Simon spoke this almost unconsciously, 
 so completely had his fears deranged his 
 ideas. 
 
 His master answered with a box on the 
 car, which made the light flash from hia
 
 304 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 eyes, and sent him reeling to the other 
 end of the room. " And you would add 
 jesting to your impudence, would you, 
 Sir? ' said Vidal. 
 
 ** Jesting, indeed!" muttered Simon; 
 " why a man might as well think of it 
 with his head in a bear's mouth. And 
 what great harm have I done, that I am 
 to be treated worse than a dog ?" 
 
 ** That ril soon make you remember, 
 sirrah," said Vidal. ** Was it nothing to 
 disobey my orders, and leave me perched 
 up among the rocks like a wounded kite ? 
 — nothing to make me walk home on foot ? 
 —nothing to take my new coat and 
 breeches, and render yourself a laughing- 
 stock in them for the whole village? — 
 
 nothing to '' 
 
 " Gently, master," said Simon : ** if 
 you run on so fast with my offences, you'll 
 leave me no time to make my defence.
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUBDOC. 305 
 
 ril begin my story from the time we set 
 out, and this company shall judge between 
 us." 
 
 *' Peace, prating fool!" exclaimed the 
 Consul, not wishing all his affairs to be 
 publicly canvassed. 
 
 " Nay,*' said Simon, ** I'll be as brief 
 as possible.'* 
 
 ** Brief or not," replied the Consul, ** I 
 command you to be silent ;" then added, 
 in a whisper, " have you delivered my 
 note?" 
 
 ** No," answered Sim.on. 
 
 *' Then give it me," said Vidal, '* this 
 instant." 
 
 Simon, who till now had forgotten the 
 very existence of the note, began in great 
 haste to feel, first in one pocket, then 
 in the other — turned them inside out — 
 searched his hut, — but all in vain ; while 
 the enraged Consul excited him to dili-
 
 3C6 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 gence, by whispering the most violent 
 threats in his ear. 
 
 " What a blockhead, I am," at length 
 exclaimed Simon, as if struck by some 
 sudden recollection : " sure this was not 
 the coat I had on, — it must be in the 
 pocket of my jacket, with a good piece of 
 bread and cheese I left there : Til 
 bring it in an instant." So saying, he 
 ran out of the room, and had turned the 
 corner of the street before Vidal was 
 aware of his intention. 
 
 To arrive at the friend's house where 
 he had changed his dress — convince him- 
 self the paper was nowhere to be found, 
 and leave the village, was the work of a 
 few moments. The difficulty in which he 
 was placed seemed to sharpen his wits ; 
 and, forced by necessity to decide imme- 
 diately what was to be done, he could 
 think of no place of refuge so proper as
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. 307 
 
 the priory of St. Roc, where he hoped to 
 excuse himself before his master should 
 arrive. He soon reached the priory — the 
 heat drops pouring down his face with 
 the violence of the speed he had made—' 
 his head scarcely cleared of the fumes of 
 his late repeated libations — and his dress 
 still presenting the whimsical appearance 
 of his masquerading frolic. The porter, 
 Stout Francis, as he was called, was, 
 happily, an old friend of Simon's, or he 
 would most probably have turned away 
 such a fantastic figure with abuse. 
 
 ** How now, Simon," he cried, when 
 his loud knocking summoned him to the 
 gate ; ** what makes you, at this late 
 hour, bring your foolery here ? It's well 
 for you the Prior has just retired to his 
 room : if he had been in the court, as he 
 was not long ago, he'd have taught you 
 to play your pranks again on holy ground." 
 
 "Was ever man so unlucky," replied
 
 308 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 Simon, with a look of disappointment, 
 " when I must speak to his reverence, to 
 arrive just too late." 
 
 " You speak with his reverence!" ex- 
 claimed the porter, lifting up his hands 
 with astonishment, " why the very walls 
 would shake if such a figure entered the 
 priory ; the fathers would think nothing 
 less than that some malicious sprite was 
 come to bewitch them, and you would 
 stand a chance of being drowned in a 
 sea of holy water, thrown upon you by 
 way of exorcism." 
 
 "That may be," said Simon, " but I 
 know, my trusty friend, Francis, if you 
 do not procure me an interview with your 
 prior, I stand a greater of being undone 
 for life." 
 
 ** I am sorry, for it," said the Porter, 
 with a compassionate shrug of the shoul- 
 ders, *' but the thing s impossible." 
 
 ** But I tell you I have business with
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANQUEDOC. 309 
 
 him," said Simon impatiently ; '* business 
 of importance relating to my master.'* 
 
 *' Doubtless what relates to your master 
 is very important to himself," replied the 
 Porter, " but if it does not concern mine, 
 hell care little about it, let me tell you.** 
 
 "Suppose it should, though!" said 
 Simon. 
 
 " Why then," replied the Porter, *'give 
 me a hint of wliat it's about ; I can soon 
 judge if he will think it worth listening 
 to.'* 
 
 " Impossible!" said Simon, ** it would 
 take me half an hour by our clock, which 
 goes slower than any other in the country, 
 to open the subject to you ; but gain me 
 a five minutes' audience, and wlien it is 
 over, I'll promise to come back to your 
 lodge, provided you have a good fire, 
 and a cheering bottle, and tell you how 
 my master and I have been travelling on
 
 SM) THE camisard; or, the 
 
 the mountains,— how we lost our mule, — 
 how we were half starved by a skin-tlint 
 X)f a Hermit, with reverence be it spoken; 
 in short, such strange and wondrous ad- 
 ventures as shall serve you to talk of till 
 next Christmas. So try what you can do 
 for me, and meanwhile I will step into 
 your house and make myself look a little 
 less like a merry-andrew, if I can." 
 
 The porter, yielding to his remonstrances, 
 jsent a lay-brother with the request; and, 
 in a short time, much to his surprise, 
 Simon was ushered into the Prior's pre- 
 sence, wondering what was become of 
 the courage which had led him to think 
 he could support such an honour. He 
 had, however, his attention sufficiently 
 awake, to perceive that his reverence was 
 at the farther end of the apartment, in 
 earnest conversation with a person whom, 
 notwithstanding the glcom, he recognised
 
 TKOTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. 311 
 
 to be Father Bernard ine ; but their dis- 
 course was carried on in a low whisper, 
 and before the Prior had advanced towards 
 him, the Pilgrim had retired. 
 
 With much needless circumlocution, 
 and many wearisome repetitions, Simon 
 at length explained to the Prior the cause 
 of his appearance, and related that his 
 master had despatched him with a letter, 
 which he had unfortunately lost on the 
 way ; but he hoped it would be of the less 
 consequence, as he assured him he knew 
 all it contained, and would not keep from 
 him a single article. This offer, indeed, 
 he thought he might safely make, for, 
 knowing nothing of the midnight adven- 
 ture, he only conjectured that it related to 
 the rencontre with the young shepherd, 
 and the suspicions excited by what they 
 had heard respecting him. Simon con- 
 cluded with entreating; his reverence to
 
 312 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 save him from his master s anger, who, 
 he assured him, was desperate when pro- 
 voked, and feared neither man nor devil, 
 only his reverence." 
 
 " And who did you tell me were your 
 companions," said the Prior, " when you 
 were sensible of bsing the letter?** 
 
 *' Please you. Sir," said Simon, " I 
 never was sensible of losing it, till my 
 master frightened my memory back into 
 me, and of my two companions, one of 
 them would not take it, for the best of all 
 reasons, that he cannot read a line even 
 of print hand, and the other 1 should not 
 be willing to suspect, because one should 
 judge of a man by his company, and if 
 my eyes didn't strangely deceive me, I 
 just now saw him in this room," 
 
 "What, Father Bernardine!" said the 
 Prior ; " yes, he sometimes visits me on 
 errands of charity, but that has nothing
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANQUEDOC. 313 
 
 to do with the subject in question, and he 
 is so humble, he likes not our acquaint- 
 ance should be known. — To return to 
 what you were speaking of. You are 
 trustworthy of course," he continued 
 with a look of contempt, " or your master 
 would not have confided such a secret to 
 your discretion." 
 
 Simon bowed low to what he took for a 
 compliment, and was proceeding again to 
 put in his claim for protection, when the 
 brother who had introduced him, entering 
 the room, announced that Mons. Vidal 
 was waiting below. 
 
 The Consul had, indeed, without sus- 
 pecting his valet's contrivance, thought it 
 best to bear the brunt of an interview, 
 before report should inform the Prior of 
 his return, and late as it was, proceeded 
 to the priory, without even changing his 
 travelling suit." 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 314 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 **It is well," said the Prior; "desire 
 him to attend me." 
 
 Poor Simon, trembling with apprehen- 
 sion, crept behind the arm-chair, in which 
 the Prior seated himself, and could scarcely 
 be persuaded by a promise from the lat- 
 ter, that no harm should befal him, from 
 hiding himself under it. He had but 
 time to take this measure of precaution, 
 before Vidal entered, his hat in his hand, 
 and a mixture of effrontery and terror 
 visible on his countenance. 
 
 "You have exceeded. Sir, I think," 
 said the Prior coldly, " the time I fixed 
 for your return, and are doubtless pre- 
 pared to account for the delay." 
 
 " Doubtless, my lord," replied Vidal, 
 bowing almost to the ground, and he then, 
 in his turn, proceeded to relate the cir- 
 cumstances which had occurred during his 
 absence, and the certainty he felt of hav-
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. 815 
 
 ing discovered the object of his search; 
 hoping that the Prior would not long delay 
 furnishing him with the means of inducing 
 the young man to accompany him to the 
 Priory. The private interview he had 
 had, he of course forbore to mention. 
 ** This your lordship should have known, 
 since," continued Vidal, " but for the ill- 
 conduct of the messenger, whom, judging 
 it best to remain on the spot myself, I 
 despatched with a letter, informing you of 
 all particulars, and whose negligence shall 
 be chastised in a manner he little thinks." 
 
 Simon, at tliese words, began again to 
 tremble. 
 
 *' What you have just told me. Sir," 
 replied the Prior, *'I was previously in- 
 formed of, and I also know what it ap- 
 pears you wish to conceal, that you give 
 no more credit to the talc than I do 
 myselt "
 
 316 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 ''Not credit it, my lord," exclaimed 
 Vidal, with a look of great surprise, /' why 
 I'd stake my existence that the young 
 man whom I conversed with three days 
 since is the ^' 
 
 "Is," interrupted the Prior scornfully 
 — *' But it is beneath me, to waste my 
 time upon you. Weave the web thicker. 
 Sir, if you hope to blind my eyes ; be 
 content to own you have been faithless to 
 the trust reposed in you, without endea- 
 vouring to pass the offspring of infamy 
 and guilt for the pure blood of a noble 
 house. Your villany, Monsieur Vidal, is 
 not calculated to prove such a source of 
 profit to you as you are disposed to wish.'* 
 
 The astonished Consul found it vain to 
 explain, and protest his sincerity. His 
 patron was evidently prepossessed with 
 the idea that he came purposely to shield 
 himself from punishment, under the cover
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 317 
 
 of some deception, and nothing he could 
 urge served either to shake this belief, or to 
 lead him to disclose the cause of his sus- 
 picion. Overcome by the Prior's inflexi- 
 bility, Vidal was obliged to be silent, 
 pondering in his own mind, on the im- 
 possibihty of coping with a man who 
 seemed determined not to be convinced 
 by either facts or reasonings, and secretly 
 resolving to depend less in future on the 
 favour of others, than on his own dex- 
 terity for rising in life . 
 
 After some time, the Prior continued ; 
 " You liave other occurrences to relate, I 
 believe. Sir. I wish to do every man jus- 
 tice ; I hear willingly, and only condemn 
 when I am compelled to it. But before 
 we enter on a new subject, I warn you, 
 when you next betray what is intrusted 
 to you alone, to choose your confidants 
 with more judgment. ' ' And so saying, he 
 
 P 3
 
 318 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 rose, and pushing the chair on one side, 
 discovered to the still greater astonish- 
 ment of the Consul, the terrified Simon, 
 who fell forwards, as soon as the support 
 against which he had leant was with- 
 drawn. 
 
 Unmindful of the Prior's presence, 
 Vidal was about to vent on him the rage 
 that boiled in his breast, when the former 
 interfering, stopped his uplifted arm, de- 
 claring he would only increase his dis- 
 pleasure by such ill-timed severity, and 
 dismissing Simon, with permission to 
 remain at the Priory that night, and assu- 
 rances of protection for the future, com- 
 manded Vidal to relate what he had 
 further to say. 
 
 As the Consul was uncertain what in- 
 formation Simon might have been able 
 to give, he was fearful of deviating from 
 the fact of the appearance of the smug-
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 319 
 
 glers, and laying aside the embellish- 
 ments he had prepared, for the first time 
 in his life spoke the truth, and nothing 
 but the truth. The Prior listened atten- 
 tively, and when he had finished speak- 
 ing, bade him be under no uneasiness, 
 as he took upon himself thoroughly to 
 investigate that affair; ** But," he added, 
 ** as I find, Sir, contrary, I own, to my 
 expectation, that you are of such a frank, 
 open, unreserved disposition, I must beg 
 you, also, will take up your residence 
 under my roof, till what you relate respect- 
 ing so extraordinary a circumstance is 
 cleared up. I will have no secret com- 
 munications render your important intel- 
 ligence unavailing to the church and 
 state. In a few days, too, I shall be 
 })ettcr able to determine whether such 
 zeal, without discretion, is most beneficial 
 or hurtful to my interests ; and whether I 
 
 P 4
 
 320 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 can pardon the insult, which a fear of 
 what you richly deserve has prompted 
 you to offer me and my family." 
 
 This was said with a tone of civil con- 
 tempt that forbade all reply ; and the mor- 
 tified Consul was conducted to a distant 
 cell, whose bare walls and ungarnished 
 bedstead, and above all, whose bolts and 
 bars, announced the impossibility of 
 escape, seemed rather to indicate a prison 
 than the chamber prepared for a guest.
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 321 
 
 CHAPTER XI, 
 
 Tlie swallow iindisturbd hath hiinsf 
 Her nest on roofs which erst have run^ 
 With sounds of harp and minstrelsy, 
 Of pageants, p<»nip, and revelry, 
 When at the hig^h born lady's call 
 The feJist and dance in banner'd hall, 
 At winter evening's welcome close 
 To ancient warlike music rose. 
 
 Midnisht Meditations at TixhalL 
 
 While the Consul was thus left in soli- 
 tude and silence, and Simon concluded an 
 evening, fraught with so much alarm, in 
 jollity and good fellowship with the Por- 
 ter, we must return to the village, wliere 
 their sudden appearance and disappear- 
 ance excited an unusual degree of wonder. 
 The Consul's absence was a relief to 
 
 P 5
 
 322 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 many who groaned under his daily vexa- 
 tions, and perhaps to none more than to 
 Rose, who was always intimidated by 
 his pretensions. She was becoming every 
 day better acquainted with the virtues and 
 amiable disposition of Madame Durand, 
 and her affection for this lady rapidly 
 increased. She had also the pleasure of 
 meeting Isidore continually, under the 
 sanction of her presence, and she easily 
 perceived, that Madame Durand distin- 
 guished him far beyond any of the other 
 inhabitants of the village, and though 
 timidity restrained her from expressing 
 her own sentiments even to her mother, 
 she felt that her new friend had penetrated 
 into her heart, and her satisfaction in- 
 creased from the consciousness of her 
 approval. — Rose was young, and the gay 
 visions of hope, which gild but so short a 
 period of life, still floated around her.
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANQUKDOC 323 
 
 She could not doubt of Isidore's affection, 
 though prudence might, for the present, 
 force him to be silent ; and with this per- 
 suasion firmly fixed in her mind, nothing 
 seemed impossible that could render the 
 future delightful. Some persons in her 
 situation might have found a thousand 
 charming difficulties to contend with, and 
 have embittered the present with all tlie 
 luxury of imaginary woe ; but fortunately 
 for Rose, such sickly sensibility was 
 foreign to her nature, and to see every 
 approving eye brighten at her approach, 
 was a happiness not to be thrown aside 
 with ungrateful peevishness, as unworthy 
 of acceptance. Neither was she the vic- 
 tim of that romantic restlessness which 
 renders even some misfortunes preferable 
 to the calm of life, in which none but 
 every-day virtues can be practised, and 
 the more showy qualities, like a holiday 
 
 V G
 
 324 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 suit, must be put by against a fitter time 
 of display. There was a perpetual sun- 
 shine in her bosom, that beamed through 
 her expressive countenance ; and Isidore, 
 while he gazed on her with admiration, 
 wished, in vain, that it were possible for 
 him to enjoy the same tranquillity. 
 
 Man is, by nature and circumstances, 
 rendered more anxious than his feebler 
 helpmate ; he is called upon for exertion 
 to avert evils, as well as patience to sup- 
 port them, and Isidore was conscious that 
 it was not his part to sit indolently down, 
 and murmur that fortune passed him by, 
 to yield her assistance to more active 
 claimants. Before he could hope to obtain 
 Rose from her prudent father, he must be 
 able to prove that love had not quite 
 blinded him, and that he did not intend 
 to plunge the object qf his regard into 
 difficulties, which he might have found it
 
 PROTESTANTS Of LANGUKDOC. 325 
 
 hard to struggle with even alone. He 
 felt that no violence of passion can excuse 
 the man who involves the woman he loves, 
 in scenes of misery she was too thought- 
 less and too confiding to foresee ; and that, 
 hard as it would be, to give up all hope, 
 that must be the alternative, if some plan 
 did not offer to improve his future pros- 
 pects. Friends, such, at least, upon 
 whom the world bestows that title, he had 
 none ; energy and perseverance were not 
 wanting, nor the heart that would endure 
 anything for the sake of her he loved. 
 But while he felt convinced there was 
 nothing ho would not willingly undertake 
 in such a cause, day after day passed on, 
 and still he found it impossible to put in 
 practice a scheme which had been sug- 
 gested by Madame Durand, and of which 
 Mons. la Porte highly approved, that he 
 should repair, for two or three years, to the
 
 326 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 nearest Protestant university, where edu- 
 caation could be obtained without much 
 expense, and where he could qualify him- 
 self for some employment more suited to 
 his talents and disposition than the drud- 
 gery of agriculture. Madame Durand had 
 also insisted on his not speaking more ex- 
 plicitly to Rose than he had hitherto done, 
 at least till his departure was so far deter- 
 mined as to be unalterable ; and on this 
 condition alone, promised him every assist- 
 ance in her power. Isidore acquiesced, but 
 his resolution continually failed him when 
 the moment was to be fixed ; and it was at 
 length agreed, almost without his consent, 
 that it should be delayed no longer than 
 the return of his mother's flock from their 
 annual abode on the mountains, which 
 would be towards the end of summer. 
 
 To the grief of those who watched her 
 with the assiduity of sincere affection.
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. 327 
 
 Madame Durand's health had long been 
 in a dedining state, and the physicians in 
 vain prescribed for the body which was 
 worn out by mental distress. They re- 
 peatedly told her, that perfect calm was 
 absolutely necessary to her recovery. 
 She smiled, and outwardly obeyed their 
 injunctions, for no ear ever heard her 
 complain how impossible it was for such 
 a heart as she possessed to be at ease. 
 But those accustomed to her looks too 
 well knew, that suffering was still work- 
 ing within, and that, with all the 
 patience and resignation of a saint, she 
 felt for those she loved all the sympathy 
 of a woman. 
 
 Notwithstanding tliis, her presence 
 was always an excitement to cheerful- 
 ness. She endeavoured to dissipate from 
 the minds of her friends even the pain of 
 knowing she was not happy ; and in the
 
 32i8 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 midst of bodily suffering, or mental dis- 
 tress, possessed so much self-command, 
 that neither impatience nor murmur were 
 ever known to escape her lips. Rose was 
 not, how^ever, to be deceived, and without 
 perpetually obtruding her commiseration^ 
 sadly marked every change of counte- 
 nance, and counted every secret sigh of 
 one so justly dear to her. This was the 
 only damp to her enjoyment ; yet it was 
 also accompanied by the satisfaction of 
 knov/ing, that her society brought relief 
 with it ; and though a sense of propriety 
 had prevented her from endeavouring to 
 discover the source of Madame Durand's 
 uneasiness, yet she perceived the remem- 
 brance of it seemed to weigh lighter when 
 she was by, and that her gentle endea- 
 vours to excite other thoughts in the mind 
 of her kind benefactress were not wholly 
 without effect.
 
 PROTP.STAN TS OR L A NH TTF.nOf!. 329 
 
 One evening, after the receipt of a letter 
 from her brother, which seemed to have 
 unusually affected her, jNIadame Durand 
 had consented to accompany her young 
 friend in an evenin2:'s ramble. The wea- 
 ther was still variable, but the day had 
 been remarkably fine, and the beams 
 of a southern sun gave the glow of sum- 
 mer to the young verdure of spring. 
 There was a freshness in the rising corn, 
 and the first shoots of the vines and mul- 
 berry-trees, that formed a lively contrast 
 with the bright azure of the cloudless sky. 
 The fields were gay with snowdrops, wild 
 hyacinths, jonquils, tulips, and and irises ; 
 and in a neighbouring swamp, myriads of 
 frogs disturbed the stillness of the air, 
 with their incessant and varied croak ings. 
 Here and there a labourer in his vineyard 
 or olive-ground cheered his toil with a 
 song ; and from the village fountain, the
 
 330 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 merry voices of women, employed in 
 the same cares as the daughter of King 
 Alcinous in ancient days, came softened 
 by the distance. 
 
 They passed along the outer wall of 
 the village, where, according to the cus- 
 tom common in France, the females sat 
 at their work, while enjoying the full 
 blaze of the sun. Here a row of large 
 wheels employed a party of girls in spin- 
 ning a coarse wool into stutf for their 
 jackets and petticoats ; there the mothers, 
 assembled in coteries, pursued the labours 
 of the needle or distaff; while others, 
 like the light troops of an army, without 
 ceasing an instant from their knitting, 
 kept moving from group to group, as the 
 gossip and the scandal increased or les- 
 sened in interest. Swarms of children, 
 with swarthy, unwashed hands and faces, 
 enjoved their idle sports and their sly
 
 FKOTCSTAim OF ULNGITEDOC. 331 
 
 tricks on the passers-by ; wiifle the cries 
 of the young, with the incessant Yohibilitj 
 of thecM — the whiihng of wheds, laugh- 
 ter of the hearers, and doqoenoe of tie 
 speakers, formed a conceit, doobdess xerf 
 pleasing to those who pafiarmed in it. 
 
 As Madame Durand advanced, many 
 by degrees left their places to enjoy the 
 delight of gratified cariosity; but in all 
 there was a look of deference and caTihty 
 that rather amused than ofiboded her, 
 especially as she partly understood the 
 remarks of astonishment and admiratioa 
 which were made in their mtfive patois, 
 on her dress and appearance. After 
 leaving the Tillage, a ste^, though wind- 
 ing ascent, in many places cut out of the 
 solid Tock.led to the Casde, wh«>e the fc- 
 mily of De Courcy had fbnneriy di^>layed 
 its magnificence. It was built in an abn^ 
 an£rle of the road, that wound round the
 
 332 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 base of its firm bastions, and to the rear 
 it looked upon the park, which was once 
 considered as the principal ornament of 
 the country, and could still exhibit some 
 fine old trees. Nor was the view pre- 
 sented from this height less worthy of 
 notice. Even at this early period of the 
 year it could boast of a thousand beauties, 
 which the lovely month of May was soon 
 to bring into full luxuriance. Far as the 
 eye could distinguish, lay one immense 
 plain, so richly cultivated as to resemble 
 a garden, diversified with vineyards, 
 olivets, rows of mulberry, and peach, 
 apricot, and cherry-trees, mixed with the 
 early-flowering almond, the rich scarlet of 
 the pomegranate, and the pale bloom of the 
 quince. These formed the hedge-rows to 
 the neat farms and cottages that were dis- 
 persed about. 
 
 On one side a small river pursued its
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 333 
 
 way, meandering like a silver snake be- 
 neath a rising ground covered with the 
 dwarf evergreen oak, while tufts of larger 
 growth shaded the different mills that 
 were built on its banks, where the water 
 foamed and sparkled over the opposing 
 dam. To back this lovely picture, lay 
 several ranges of mountains, increasing 
 in height, and softening in colour, as they 
 approached the horizon, where their lofty 
 summits, covered with snow, seemed to 
 repose against the deep unclouded azure 
 of the heavens. 
 
 Madame Durand bent her steps to the 
 castle. It was now uninhabited, and an 
 old woman, with her half-witted son, who 
 had formed a comfortless abode in one of 
 the outer buildings, was intrusted with 
 the keys of the neglected apartments. After 
 wandering about slowly and carelessly 
 for some time, Rose, who perceived tliat
 
 334 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 her friend looked fatigued, begged she 
 would permit her to ask for the keys, that 
 she might rest for a short time. Madame 
 Durand consented, and while Rose was 
 absent, busied herself in endeavouring to 
 clear from the weeds a few scattered 
 flowers, which still sprung up, in dwindled 
 growth, where the garden had formerly 
 been. Alas ! it was now a scene of me- 
 lancholy desolation, in which time and 
 neglect had each done his part. Long 
 waving grass choked up the once nicely- 
 gravelled walks. The basins, from which, 
 in former times, the well-taught streams 
 rose in every variety of form, falling 
 again, in sheets of liquid silver, over 
 laughing cupids and bearded river gods, 
 to the surprise of the vulgar, and the ad- 
 miration of the great, were now either 
 dried up, or presented pools of stagnant 
 water covered with weeds and decayed
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUBDOC. 335 
 
 leaves. The arbours, which used to sus- 
 tain the rich burden of the luxuriant vine, 
 were entangled in its branches, which 
 trailed neglected on the ground. The 
 useless dial had fallen from its carved pe- 
 destal. On die broken steps, which led 
 from terrace to terrace, and in the massy- 
 balustrades, small gray lizards appeared 
 and vanished with the speed and silence 
 of fairies. But how far different from the 
 feelings excited by the wild confusion of 
 nature, are those we experience on sur- 
 veying the ruins of art ! These speak in 
 strong language how powerless is man, 
 since, if he slacken his care but for a 
 season, the dominion escapes from his 
 hand, and that which was once his pride 
 offers only images of decay and deso- 
 lation. 
 
 AV hen Rose returned, a heavy shower 
 rendered the shelter of the castle extremely
 
 336 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 acceptable. With some difficulty they 
 turned the rusty lock^ and passing through 
 an empty hall, ascended a spacious pil- 
 lared staircase, which no longer led to 
 comfort and domestic happiness. Room 
 opened into room with melancholy gran- 
 deur, and as the doors swung idly on 
 their hinges, their sound seemed to say, 
 it was long since mortal foot had passed 
 there. 
 
 Rose, who had often wished to examine 
 the castle, gazed with silent admiration on 
 the immense mirrors, the faded tapestry, 
 and tarnished gildings, everywhere la- 
 vished ; and fancied that the ideas of per- 
 sons accustomed to such splendour must 
 be as different from hers, as the airy 
 visions of ethereal beings from the every- 
 day thoughts of mere mortals. So intent 
 was she in her contemplations, as not for 
 some time to notice Madame Durand,
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. 337 
 
 who had seated herself on a couch, which 
 stood opposite to a picture of more modern 
 date than the greater part of those which 
 hung on the walls. Rose no sooner, how- 
 ever, perceived that she looked ill, than 
 she flew towards her, and taking the hand 
 w^hich hung almost lifeless by her side, 
 pressed it to her lips, looking eagerly, 
 by turns, from the pallid cheek of her 
 friend, to the blooming beauty on the 
 canvass. 
 
 The picture was that of a young lady, 
 in the prime of youth, but her loveliness 
 was shaded by a look of sorrow ; and the 
 dress of a nun, with the black gauze cur- 
 tain represented as drawn before her, gave 
 an additional sadness to the figure. She 
 was bending over a child, whose laugh- 
 ing blue eyes, curling locks, and dimpled 
 rosy cheeks, were the emblems of health 
 and joy. The little girl held a young 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 338 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 wood- pigeon by its wings, to prevent its 
 escape, and the lady appeared to be inter- 
 ceding for its release, with a look that for- 
 cibly spoke her own abhorrence of slavery. 
 In the childish graces before her. Rose 
 was surprised to perceive an indescriba- 
 ble resemblance to a face she was well 
 acquainted with, and without presuming 
 to ask any questions, her looks betrayed 
 what was passing in her mind. 
 
 Madame Durand, making a strong 
 effort to recover herself, and wiping the 
 tears from her eyes, said, " I do not won- 
 der, my dear, that you can scarcely catch 
 the likeness ; thirty years must make a 
 great change, and what must it be when 
 many of them were years of sorrow?" 
 
 '' And is it possible that this is your 
 picture, and that you once lived in this 
 castle ?" said Rose with a look of inno- 
 cent surprise.
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 339 
 
 Madame Durand smiled at her asto- 
 nishment, and replied, *' This was my 
 home till I married." 
 
 " And the young lady ?" said Rose. 
 
 " Was my sister " 
 
 After a pause of some moments, she 
 continued — '' My dear Rose, I believe 
 you love me?" Rose pressed her hand 
 more closely, with a look of gratitude 
 and pleasure. *' And I am desirous, 
 perhaps selfishly so, of making you a 
 sharer in all my feelings. Their bitter- 
 ness, I am thankful to say, is past, so you 
 will have no occasion to suffer for me. I 
 know I have not shed a needless, I would 
 hope not a useless tear, and that what I 
 have gone through has weaned me from a 
 world we all love too well, and fixed my 
 faith on that better inheritance which has 
 been purchased for us. Every trial is a 
 mercy that brings us nearer to Him who 
 
 Q 2
 
 340 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 alone can give us rest ." Madame 
 
 Durand again paused, for she felt the 
 tears of her young friend fall upon her 
 hand, and then added, '' I do not boast of 
 being a stoic, and there are moments 
 when the recollection of the past over- 
 powers every resolution I had formed. 
 It is now many years since I was in this 
 room, and yet the scene that picture repre- 
 sents is as fresh to my mind, as on the 
 day in which it passed. — Sit by me, and 
 as I still hear the rain beating against the 
 casements, I will give you a short sketch 
 of my life : you will then, my love, easily 
 understand why I wish to remain at pre- 
 sent unknown, except to your excellent 
 father, who has long been aware of my 
 intentions. As the sister of the Baron 
 de Courcy, I should be exposed to 
 much idle curiosity on the one hand, and 
 perhaps to an opposition on the other.
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUEDOC. 341 
 
 which might be prejudicial to the great 
 cause which I have in hand. 
 
 ** My mother, who has now been many 
 years dead, was a woman of strong pas- 
 sions, and a determined character, con- 
 sidering all opposition to her will as 
 rebellion, and every attempt at freedom 
 in those about her, as a contempt of her 
 authority. The submission she expected 
 from all beneath her, she was, I own, 
 willing to pay where she considered it 
 due, especially to her husband and to her 
 confessor; but the former, I grieve to 
 say, was a libertine in principle and 
 practice, and too careless and too fashion- 
 able to act the part of master in his fa- 
 mily ; and the latter had art sulhcient 
 to discern the defects of my poor mother's 
 character, and to yield to her even when 
 appearing to be her guide. — The failings 
 of a parent are, however, a sacred sub- 
 
 g 3
 
 342 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 ject, and I should not have said even 
 this, if it had not been necessary to ex- 
 plain the events that followed. My 
 mother had been many years married 
 without having any children ; at length 
 she gave birth to a daughter, who grew 
 up in person such as you see faintly re- 
 presented in that painting, and with a 
 disposition so sweet, that I feel it difficult 
 to do her justice. It seemed impossible 
 for a mother to hate such a being, or that 
 her disappointment in not having an heir, 
 could account for the coldness with which 
 she was always regarded. Many persons 
 hinted that my mother, in one of her fre- 
 quent devotions and pilgrimages, had 
 made a solemn vow to dedicate her eldest 
 child to the cloister, should she ever 
 be blessed with a son. This might be 
 true, but she seldom gave reasons for her 
 actions. I only know with certainty, that.
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANGUKDOC 343 
 
 on the birth of my brother, who is but a 
 year older than myself, such a project 
 became generally talked of, and the 
 angelic docility and mildness of my be- 
 loved Laura, were considered as the signs 
 of an extraordinary vocation in one so 
 young. Accustomed, therefore, from her 
 earliest years to look upon this as the 
 destiny assigned her by Providence, she 
 submitted without consulting her own 
 feelings ; and my father, to whom the 
 design was mentioned, answered with in- 
 difference, that as to the girls, he cared 
 not how soon they were disposed of, pro- 
 vided his son was not to be adorned with 
 a shaven crown, and tlien forgot the cir- 
 cumstance entirely; indeed, so entirely, 
 that when Laura was sixteen, he formed 
 the design of marrying her to the orphan 
 son of a nobleman, wlio had resided in 
 the neighbourhood, and without thinking 
 
 Q 4
 
 344 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 it necessary to consult my mother, ar- 
 ranged ail tlie preliminaries. In conse- 
 quence of this, the young Count Darcy 
 was a frequent visiter at the castle. He 
 was formed to please a delicate mind, and 
 Laura, unaccustomed to pleasure, but too 
 readily opened her heart to receive its 
 influence. — My mother would not offer 
 direct opposition to her husband's will; 
 but by every means in her power sought 
 to delay, if she could not break off, the 
 match. I was then very young, too young 
 to understand the secret motives by which 
 those around me were actuated, and like 
 a child, I often gave pain, which has since 
 made me shed many bitter tears. Hav- 
 ing been told by my maid, that Count 
 Darcy was my sister's lover, and been 
 made to understand young ladies did not 
 like such things to be talked of, though 
 why they did not I could not learn, it
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 34-0 
 
 was my great dcliglit, when my dear 
 Laura chid me for any childish mischief, 
 to revenge myself by telling where I had 
 met her with the Count, and how she 
 blushed wlien he offered her a rose ; and 
 the look of pain with which, in my mo- 
 ther's presence, she seemed to entreat my 
 silence, only amused mc, as I mistook it 
 for the confusion I had been taught to ex- 
 pect. Alas ! I little knew that every such 
 idle tale, exaggerated by my loquacity, 
 drew upon her bitter reproaches. 
 
 " It was my mother's aim to induce her 
 to refuse the Count, upon the plea of a 
 scruple of conscience, as being already 
 called to the service of the sanctuary; 
 and so great was the struggle excited in 
 my sister's mind, between a virtuous 
 affection, sanctioned by tlic^will of a fa- 
 ther, on the one hand, and rehgious ter- 
 rors on the other, that I have oftcMi won- 
 
 Q 5
 
 346 thecamisard; or, the 
 
 dered her life did not even then prove the 
 sacrifice of the secret conflict. As the 
 winter drew on, my father, as usual, set 
 out for Paris, and the Count to join his 
 regiment in a distant province, fondly 
 hoping the ensuing spring would see him 
 the happiest of men. — Laura's heart sunk 
 as she listened to the gay visions his 
 fancy pictured, and yet she dared not 
 bid him doubt their accomplishment. 
 
 " What passed between her and my 
 mother, I cannot say, but she became 
 daily paler and more dejected, and in 
 less than a month after their departure, 
 was removed to the convent of La Conso- 
 lation, of which the abbess was our aunt. 
 My brother and I lamented her absence, 
 as children always do those who contri- 
 bute to their happiness; and to whose 
 happiness did she not contribute? and 
 our joy was unbounded, when, after some
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC 347 
 
 time, we saw her unexpectedly return. — 
 Enraged by the letters of her sister, who 
 represented Laura as utterly averse to the 
 holy profession, my mother had recalled 
 her ; not indeed to yield to her wishes, 
 but still more determined on opposing 
 them. It was necessary to overcome her 
 reluctance before my father's return, and 
 my blood thrills when I relate to what 
 extremities a parent could resort, in 
 order to effect this. Animated by her 
 confessor, who artfully persuaded my 
 mother her duty called upon her to pre- 
 vent such a scandal to the church, as the 
 breach of vows, already registered in 
 Heaven, though not pronounced on earth ; 
 she forbade her unhappy child her pre- 
 sence, — degraded her to tlie society of 
 the lowest menials, — would not suifer her, 
 though weak and sinking under the 
 weight of her trials, to receive the small- 
 
 Q
 
 348 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 est attendance, — clothed her in such gar- 
 ments as the very peasants scorn, and 
 forced her to severe and unremitting work. 
 Often have I stolen from my^bed, and 
 creeping on tiptoe along the cold galleries 
 which led to her miserable apartment, 
 have endeavoured to stop her tears, which 
 seemed to me never to cease flowing, 
 and by my caresses, and offers of cakes 
 and sugar plumbs, to excite a momen- 
 tary smile. But the blow had struck too 
 deep! 
 
 " My father had been written to, on my 
 sister's retiring to the convent, and took 
 no other notice of the affair, than remark- 
 ing, at the end of a few hurried lines, con- 
 taining orders respecting the decorations 
 of a theatre he had erected, that there 
 was no accounting for a young lady's 
 taste; and he did not think the Count 
 would long wear the willow.
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 349 
 
 " By her mother's command, Laura had 
 written to the Count, stating this change 
 in her views ; but it was impossible for 
 her to deceive, and the tone of constraint 
 which escaped my mother's observation, 
 could not elude the quick apprehension of 
 a lover. As soon as he could obtain leave 
 to quit his regiment, he flew to the castle, 
 but was refused admittance; entreaty 
 and remonstrance were equally vain. In 
 the anguish of doubt and despair, he 
 hovered round a spot where all his happi- 
 ness seemed shut up from him, and, by 
 dint of bribes, at length prevailed on a 
 man, who had constant access to our 
 house, to deliver a letter to my sister, 
 and at least bring him a verbal answer. 
 
 *' This man, who, it seems, had no prin- 
 ciple to restrain him, and who wished to 
 double his gains, betrayed him ; it is most 
 probable, at least, that it was by his 
 means the letter reached my mother's
 
 350 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 hands. Never shall I forget that day ! 
 It was in the depth of winter, and a tre- 
 mendous storm of wind and rain added 
 to the desolate appearance of the country. 
 For the first time, since her return from 
 the convent, my mother went herself to 
 Laura's room. She passed me in the 
 corridore, and her look was so stern, that 
 I ran away from her in terror, without 
 attempting my usual caresses. It is im- 
 possible to say with certainty what oc- 
 curred in that interview, as no one else 
 was present ; but if any reliance can be 
 placed on the incoherent expressions, 
 uttered in the delirium which preceded 
 my mother's death; finding all other 
 means fail, she then revealed to her inno- 
 cent victim the vow by which she had 
 bound herself to consecrate her to Hea- 
 ven, and called down curses on her head, 
 if she suffered any worldly affection to 
 hinder her from fulfilling it. It must.
 
 PROTESTANTS OP LANQUEDOC. 351 
 
 therefore, have been by her command 
 that my sister acceded to the Count's 
 wish to speak with her even for the last 
 time, at a little chapel in the entrance of 
 that wood, where she had formerly solaced 
 herself by her devotional exercises, and 
 had consecrated every object by her care 
 and regard: he had fixed the time for 
 late that evening. The storm had not yet 
 entirely abated, but her bosom was still 
 more agitated, and she heeded it not. I 
 was in her room when the hour struck, 
 that warned her of her engagement, and, 
 starting up with a look of agony, she 
 seized me by the hand, and flew with me 
 to the chapel, where the unhappy Count 
 was waiting to receive her. Without 
 giving him time to utter a word, and 
 scarcely to remark the ravages which 
 grief had made in tliat lovely face and 
 form, she threw herself on her knees 
 before an image of the virgin, and by the
 
 352 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 most solemn vow, bound herself never to 
 be his. 
 
 *' Who could paint the agony of the 
 Count ! But it was useless to question 
 her^ she fell lifeless to the ground at his 
 feet, as if the heart she could no longer 
 offer to him, had ceased from that 
 moment to beat. It was not till our cries 
 had drawn to us some persons who had 
 been set to watch her movements, and 
 that my sister had been for many hours in 
 her chamber, that consciousness returned. 
 My mother, by one glance at the Count, 
 perceived that her threats had succeeded, 
 and bore unmoved the extravagance with 
 which he upbraided her cruelty. As no 
 hope remained, and even Laura refused 
 to see him again, he returned to the army, 
 and by his desperate courage soon pro- 
 cured the termination of his life and sor- 
 rows. — Laura slowly recovered, but that 
 last effort had exhausted the powers of her
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LAN'GUEDOC. 353 
 
 mind, and she seemed afterwards guided 
 only by starts of fancy, or to sink into a 
 state of listless insensibility. With the 
 tacit compliance of deep despair, she 
 consented to return to the convent, and 
 finished her noviciate without a struggle, 
 declaring, however, that she should not 
 survive the awful ceremony that was to 
 follow in three days, Alas ! whether she 
 felt that nature would hold out no longer, 
 or that as reason failed her, anguish 
 assumed a force religion could not control, 
 must for ever remain concealed within the 
 walls of her prison-house : within three 
 days we were informed of her death, 
 and her wretched parent survived but a 
 month. My dear sister's remains were 
 brought to the castle, and interred in the 
 chapel I mentioned before. I will point 
 out the spot to you, for you will not refuse 
 a t(\ir to the memory of so much excel- 
 lence and so much sorrow."
 
 354 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 They accordingly left the castle, and 
 Rose returning the keys to the old woman, 
 obtained permission to traverse the park. 
 Madame Durand taking Rose's arm, fol- 
 lowed the tangled path leading to the 
 chapel, and could not forbear remarking, 
 as she looked around upon the well-known 
 scene, how slowly the face of nature 
 changes, when compared with the changes 
 in the destiny of man. *' It seems to me 
 as if the trees I sported under when a 
 child, present the same branches to shade 
 me in my age. There is not a spot in 
 these grounds with w^hich I cannot connect 
 some interesting remembrance. Those 
 two chestnuts, which you see so flourish* 
 ing, were planted by my brother and me, 
 and were the objects of our greatest care. 
 We even looked at them with a sort of 
 superstitious reverence, and foreboded 
 some disaster whenever the wind or rain 
 had injured their blossoms. They have
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 355 
 
 proved false omens, since a few weeks 
 will restore them to their richest splen- 
 dour, and those who planted them can 
 only look forward to disappointment. But 
 I must conclude my narrative. After my 
 mother's death, which drew my father for 
 a short time from Paris, he quitted the 
 castle entirely, for he made a point of 
 driving every painful recollection far from 
 him. As he had no female relation to 
 entrust us to, and would not suffer his 
 ease to be interrupted by the trouble of 
 children, we were left behind, under the 
 care of trusty servants; and from his in- 
 difference or liberality on the subject of 
 religion, were particularly recommended to 
 the charge of the worthy Monsieur Brunei 
 and his wife, then residing in the village, 
 who had not only imbibed the Protestant 
 opinions, but was himself a most de- 
 voted and able Pastor in that church. 
 Yet it was his condition and abilities,
 
 356 THE CAMISARD ; OR, THE 
 
 rather than these more important qualities, 
 which drew on him my father's attention ; 
 and his regard for us led him afterwards 
 to reside almost entirely at the castle. 
 We loved him with the affection due to a 
 parent, and it is not wonderful that the 
 doctrines which fell from his lips had 
 their due effect on our minds ; though he 
 was far from the spirit of proselyting, if 
 that word expresses the endeavour to 
 bring over partisans to a sect, rather than 
 converts to the truth. The death of my 
 father, when I was about fifteen, and my 
 subsequent marriage, drew me for some 
 years far away. These were years 
 of much happiness, though I followed my 
 husband and two sweet children to the 
 grave, and, considering the rank in which 
 I moved, was left in a state of compara- 
 tive poverty, which I chiefly regret from 
 its abridging me of the means of assist- 
 ing my dear brother. Before I returned
 
 TROTESTANTS OF LANGUEDOC. 3.37 
 
 to Vallerargues, he was also married, and 
 a father, and I had soon to share his trials 
 also. The rest of my history is well 
 known to you ; I accompanied him in his 
 flight, and would never have left him ; but 
 the faint hope of being more useful by 
 my absence has induced me, under a 
 borrowed name, to revisit my native land, 
 and the good people here have so long 
 lost sight of me, that, with a very little 
 precaution, I hope to remain unknown 
 But it grows late, and the evening air is 
 cold ; let us visit the grave, and on our 
 return home, I will mention some further 
 particulars to you." 
 
 They now entered the chapel, and Ma- 
 dame Durand began to search for Laura's 
 grave, by the uncertain light that was 
 admitted through the ivy-mantled win- 
 dows. 
 
 Rose, who followed her trembling, 
 fancied several times, that she heard a
 
 358 THE camisard; or, thb 
 
 faint rustling, and at length could not 
 refrain from mentioning her fears. 
 
 Madame Durand listened, but though 
 all was still, the very idea of danger was 
 unpleasant, and she was about to defer 
 her search till another time, when, on 
 looking steadily into the interior of the 
 building, they perceived the old Pilgrim 
 leaning on his staff, and half concealed 
 by a massy pillar that supported the roof, 
 gazing steadfastly upon them. Rose 
 involuntarily screamed. 
 
 •' Fear not, ladies," cried the old man, 
 " but why do I say so ? the good have no 
 cause for fear. You come here on a pious 
 errand — — — '* 
 
 " Who," said Madame Durand, much 
 astonished " gave you. Father, this in- 
 sight into our intentions?" 
 
 ** Lady," replied the Pilgrim, shaking 
 his gray locks, " sorrow is sacred with me. 
 You need not, therefore, fear my discre-
 
 PROTESTANTS OF LANOUEDOC. 359 
 
 lion. When the silver cord is well nigh 
 loosed, it is not the time for vain bab- 
 blings. I am a stranger, it seems to you, 
 but I remembered you at the first glance, 
 though I tell it not to the world. You 
 may rely on him whose flesh has been 
 torn from his body, sooner than his secret 
 from his heart. — I knew your steps 
 would turn hither, therefore I have waited 
 and watched to see you ; and now that 
 we are met," continued the old man, while 
 tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks, 
 *' even here, where the wolf should sooner 
 lie down with the lamb, than you and I 
 hold conference together, what can I say ? 
 Alas ! the very words die away upon my 
 lips, and you will hear nothing but my 
 sighs. There is the spot you seek ; pray 
 for me." 
 
 He left the chapel, and Madame Du- 
 rand remained lost in astonishment at his 
 incomprehensible words. The grave to
 
 360 THE camisard; or, the 
 
 which he pointed, bore no appearance of 
 neglect, but seemed to have been lately 
 strewn with fresh flowers ; yet, whether 
 the Pilgrim was the guardian of the place, 
 and if so, what could excite his interest 
 there, were points it was impossible to 
 discover. After some time they retired, 
 and perceived him still hovering at a dis- 
 tance, as if undecided whether again to 
 engage in conversation ; but seeing some 
 one approach to meet them, he withdrew, 
 and as they looked back to survey the 
 darkly-frowning towers of the castle, be- 
 hind which the moon was at that moment 
 rising, like a globe of pale fire, they still 
 could see his venerable figure under the 
 broad shade of the avenue which led to 
 the more retired parts of the park . 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 London : Printed by W. Clowes, Northumberland-court, Strand.