is, yet itmust be a symptom of good. For my own part, to see these towers makesthe air lighter. Let us think of the Church as we may, no one can denythat the towers of Semur are dear to our hearts.'
'M. le Maire,' said M. de Bois-Sombre, interrupting, 'I speak I am surethe sentiments of my fellow-citizens when I say that there is no longerany question among us concerning the Church; it is an admirableinstitution, a universal advantage----'
'Yes, yes,' said the crowd, 'yes, certainly!' and some added, 'It is theonly safeguard, it is our protection,' and some signed themselves. Inthe crowd I saw Riou, who had done this at the _octroi_. But the signdid not surprise me now.
M. le Cure stood by my side, but he did not smile. His countenance wasdark, almost angry. He stood quite silent, with his eyes on the ground.It gave him no pleasure, this profession of faith.
'It is well, my friends,' said I, 'we are all in accord; and the goodGod has permitted us again to see these towers. I have called youtogether to collect your ideas. This change must have a meaning. It hasbeen suggested to me that we might send an ambassador--a messenger, ifthat is possible, into the city--'
Here I stopped short; and a shiver ran through me--a shiver which wentover the whole company. We were all pale as we looked in each other'sfaces; and for a moment no one ventured to speak. After this pause itwas perhaps natural that he who first found his voice should be the lastwho had any right to give an opinion. Who should it be but JacquesRichard? 'M. le Maire,' cried the fellow, 'speaks at his ease--but whowill thus risk himself?' Probably he did not mean that his grumblingshould be heard, but in the silence every sound was audible; there was agasp, a catching of the breath, and all turned their eyes again upon me.I did not pause to think what answer I should give. 'I!' I cried. 'Herestands one who will risk himself, who will perish if need be--'
Something stirred behind me. It was Agnes who had risen to her feet, whostood with her lips parted and quivering, with her hands clasped, as ifabout to speak. But she did not speak. Well! she had proposed to do it.Then why not I?
'Let me make the observation,' said another of our fellow-citizens,Bordereau the banker, 'that this would not be just. Without M. le Mairewe should be a mob without a head. If a messenger is to be sent, let itbe some one not so indispensable----'
'Why send a messenger?' said another, Philip Leclerc. 'Do we know thatthese Messieurs will admit any one? and how can you speak, how can youparley with those--' and he too, was seized with a shiver--'whom youcannot see?'
Then there came another voice out of the crowd. It was one who would notshow himself, who was conscious of the mockery in his tone. 'If there isany one sent, let it be M. le Cure,' it said.
M. le Cure stepped forward. His pale countenance flushed red. 'Here amI,' he said, 'I am ready; but he who spoke speaks to mock me. Is itbefitting in this presence?'
There was a struggle among the men. Whoever it was who had spoken (I didnot wish to know), I had no need to condemn the mocker; they themselvessilenced him; then Jacques Richard (still less worthy of credit) criedout again with a voice that was husky. What are men made of?Notwithstanding everything, it was from the _cabaret_, from thewine-shop, that he had come. He said, 'Though M. le Maire will not takemy opinion, yet it is this. Let them reopen the chapel in the hospital.The ladies of St. Jean--'
'Hold thy peace,' I said, 'miserable!' But a murmur rose. 'Though it isnot his part to speak, I agree,' said one. 'And I.' 'And I.' There waswell-nigh a tumult of consent; and this made me angry. Words were on mylips which it might have been foolish to utter, when M. de Bois-Sombre,who is a man of judgment, interfered.
'M. le Maire,' he said, 'as there are none of us here who would showdisrespect to the Church and holy things--that is understood--it is notnecessary to enter into details. Every restriction that would wound themost susceptible is withdrawn; not one more than another, but all. Wehave been indifferent in the past, but for the future you will agreewith me that everything shall be changed. The ambassador--whoever he maybe--' he added with a catching of his breath, 'must be empowered topromise--everything--submission to all that may be required.'
Here the women could not restrain themselves; they all rose up with acry, and many of them began to weep. 'Ah!' said one with a hystericalsound of laughter in her tears. '_Sainte Mere_! it will be heaven uponearth.'
M. le Cure said nothing; a keen glance of wonder, yet of subduedtriumph, shot from under his eyelids. As for me, I wrung my hands: 'Whatyou say will be superstition; it will be hypocrisy,' I cried.
But at that moment a further incident occurred. Suddenly, while wedeliberated, a long loud peal of a trumpet sounded into the air. I havealready said that many sounds had been heard before; but this wasdifferent; there was not one of us that did not feel that this wasaddressed to himself. The agitation was extreme; it was a summons, thebeginning of some distinct communication. The crowd scattered; but formyself, after a momentary struggle, I went forward resolutely. I did noteven look back at my wife. I was no longer Martin Dupin, but the Maireof Semur, the saviour of the community. Even Bois-Sombre quailed: but Ifelt that it was in me to hold head against death itself; and before Ihad gone two steps I felt rather than saw that M. le Cure had come to myside. We went on without a word; gradually the others collected behindus, following yet straggling here and there upon the inequalities of theground.
Before us lay the cloud that was Semur, a darkness defined by theshining of the summer day around, the river escaping from that gloom asfrom a cavern, the towers piercing through, but the sunshine thrown backon every side from that darkness. I have spoken of the walls as if wesaw them, but there were no walls visible, nor any gate, though we allturned like blind men to where the Porte St. Lambert was. There was thebroad vacant road leading up to it, leading into the gloom. We stoodthere at a little distance. Whether it was human weakness or aninvisible barrier, how can I tell? We stood thus immovable, with thetrumpet pealing out over us, out of the cloud. It summoned every man asby his name. To me it was not wonderful that this impression shouldcome, but afterwards it was elicited from all that this was the feelingof each. Though no words were said, it was as the calling of our names.We all waited in such a supreme agitation as I cannot describe for somecommunication that was to come.
When suddenly, in a moment, the trumpet ceased; there was an interval ofdead and terrible silence; then, each with a leap of his heart as if itwould burst from his bosom, we saw a single figure slowly detach itselfout of the gloom. 'My God!' I cried. My senses went from me; I felt myhead go round like a straw tossed on the winds.
To know them so near, those mysterious visitors--to feel them, to hearthem, was not that enough? But, to see! who could bear it? Our voicesrang like broken chords, like a tearing and rending of sound. Somecovered their faces with their hands; for our very eyes seemed to bedrawn out of their sockets, fluttering like things with a separate life.
Then there fell upon us a strange and wonderful calm. The figureadvanced slowly; there was weakness in it. The step, though solemn, wasfeeble; and if you can figure to yourself our consternation, the pause,the cry--our hearts dropping back as it might be into their places--thesudden stop of the wild panting in our breasts: when there becamevisible to us a human face well known, a man as we were. 'Lecamus!' Icried; and all the men round took it up, crowding nearer, trembling yetdelivered from their terror; some even laughed in the relief. There wasbut one who had an air of discontent, and that was M. le Cure. As hesaid 'Lecamus!' like the rest, there was impatience, disappointment,anger in his tone.
And I, who had wondered where Lecamus had gone; thinking sometimes thathe was one of the deserters who had left us! But when he came nearer hisface was as the face of a dead man, and a cold chill came over us. Hiseyes, which were cast down, flickered under the thin eyelids in whichall the veins were visible. His face was gray like that of the dying.'Is he dead?' I said. But, except M. le Cure, no one knew that I spoke.
'Not even so,' said M. le Cure, with a mortification in his voice, whichI h
ave never forgotten. 'Not even so. That might be something. Theyteach us not by angels--by the fools and offscourings of the earth.'
And he would have turned away. It was a humiliation. Was not he therepresentative of the Unseen, the vice-gerent, with power over heavenand hell? but something was here more strong than he. He stood by myside in spite of himself to listen to the ambassador. I will not denythat such a choice was strange, strange beyond measure, to me also.
'Lecamus,' I said, my voice trembling in my throat, 'have you been amongthe dead, and do you live?'
'I live,' he said; then looked around with tears upon the crowd. 'Goodneighbours, good friends,' he