for meto pass, I should have gone, and with such gladness! for God He knowsthat to help to thrust my husband into danger, and not to share it, wasterrible to me. But no; the invisible line was still drawn, beyond whichI could not stir. The door opened before him, and closed upon me. Butthough to see him disappear into the gloom was anguish, yet to know thathe was the man by whom the city should be saved was sweet. I sat down onthe spot where my steps were stayed. It was close to the wall, wherethere is a ledge of stonework round the basement of the tower. There Isat down to wait till he should come again.
If any one thinks, however, that we, who were under the shelter of theroof of La Clairiere were less tried than our husbands, it is a mistake;our chief grief was that we were parted from them, not knowing whatsuffering, what exposure they might have to bear, and knowing that theywould not accept, as most of us were willing to accept, theinterpretation of the mystery; but there was a certain comfort in thefact that we had to be very busy, preparing a little food to take tothem, and feeding the others. La Clairiere is a little country house,not a great chateau, and it was taxed to the utmost to afford somecovert to the people. The children were all sheltered and cared for; butas for the rest of us we did as we could. And how gay they were, all thelittle ones! What was it to them all that had happened? It was a fetefor them to be in the country, to be so many together, to run in thefields and the gardens. Sometimes their laughter and their happinesswere more than we could bear. Agathe de Bois-Sombre, who takes lifehardly, who is more easily deranged than I, was one who was muchdisturbed by this. But was it not to preserve the children that we werecommanded to go to La Clairiere? Some of the women also were not easy tobear with. When they were put into our rooms they too found it a fete,and sat down among the children, and ate and drank, and forgot what itwas; what awful reason had driven us out of our homes. These were not,oh let no one think so! the majority; but there were some, it cannot bedenied; and it was difficult for me to calm down Bonne Maman, and keepher from sending them away with their babes. 'But they are_miserables_,' she said. 'If they were to wander and be lost, if theywere to suffer as thou sayest, where would be the harm? I have nopatience with the idle, with those who impose upon thee.' It is possiblethat Bonne Maman was right--but what then? 'Preserve the children andthe sick,' was the mission that had been given to me. My own room wasmade the hospital. Nor did this please Bonne Maman. She bid me if I didnot stay in it myself to give it to the Bois-Sombres, to some whodeserved it. But is it not they who need most who deserve most? BonneMaman cannot bear that the poor and wretched should live in her Martin'schamber. He is my Martin no less. But to give it up to our Lord is notthat to sanctify it? There are who have put Him into their own bed whenthey imagined they were but sheltering a sick beggar there; that Heshould have the best was sweet to me: and could not I pray all thebetter that our Martin should be enlightened, should come to the truesanctuary? When I said this Bonne Maman wept. It was the grief of herheart that Martin thought otherwise than as we do. Nevertheless shesaid, 'He is so good; the _bon Dieu_ knows how good he is;' as if evenhis mother could know that so well as I!
But with the women and the children crowding everywhere, the sick in mychamber, the helpless in every corner, it will be seen that we, too, hadmuch to do. And our hearts were elsewhere, with those who were watchingthe city, who were face to face with those in whom they had notbelieved. We were going and coming all day long with food for them, andthere never was a time of the night or day that there were not many ofus watching on the brow of the hill to see if any change came in Semur.Agathe and I, and our children, were all together in one little room.She believed in God, but it was not any comfort to her; sometimes shewould weep and pray all day long; sometimes entreat her husband toabandon the city, to go elsewhere and live, and fly from this strangefate. She is one who cannot endure to be unhappy--not to have what shewishes. As for me, I was brought up in poverty, and it is no wonder ifI can more easily submit. She was not willing that I should come thismorning to Semur. In the night the Mere Julie had roused us, saying shehad seen a procession of angels coming to restore us to the city. Ah! tothose who have no knowledge it is easy to speak of processions ofangels. But to those who have seen what an angel is--how they flock uponus unawares in the darkness, so that one is confused, and scarce cantell if it is reality or a dream; to those who have heard a little voicesoft as the dew coming out of heaven! I said to them--for all were in agreat tumult--that the angels do not come in processions, they stealupon us unaware, they reveal themselves in the soul. But they did notlisten to me; even Agathe took pleasure in hearing of the revelation. Asfor me, I had denied myself, I had not seen Martin for a night and aday. I took one of the great baskets, and I went with the women who werethe messengers for the day. A purpose formed itself in my heart, it wasto make my way into the city, I know not how, and implore them to havepity upon us before the people were distraught. Perhaps, had I been ableto refrain from speaking to Martin, I might have found the occasion Iwished; but how could I conceal my desire from my husband? And now allis changed, I am rejected and he is gone. He was more worthy. BonneMaman is right. Our good God, who is our father, does He require thatone should make profession of faith, that all should be alike? He seesthe heart; and to choose my Martin, does not that prove that He lovesbest that which is best, not I, or a priest, or one who makesprofessions? Thus, I sat down at the gate with a great confidence,though also a trembling in my heart. He who had known how to choose himamong all the others, would not He guard him? It was a proof to me onceagain that heaven is true, that the good God loves and comprehends usall, to see how His wisdom, which is unerring, had chosen the best manin Semur.
And M. le Cure, that goes without saying, he is a priest of priests, atrue servant of God.
I saw my husband go: perhaps, God knows, into danger, perhaps to someencounter such as might fill the world with awe--to meet those who readthe thought in your mind before it comes to your lips. Well! there is nothought in Martin that is not noble and true. Me, I have follies in myheart, every kind of folly; but he!--the tears came in a flood to myeyes, but I would not shed them, as if I were weeping for fear andsorrow--no--but for happiness to know that falsehood was not in him. Mylittle Marie, a holy virgin, may look into her father's heart--I do notfear the test.
The sun came warm to my feet as I sat on the foundation of our city, butthe projection of the tower gave me a little shade. All about was agreat peace. I thought of the psalm which says, 'He will give it to Hisbeloved sleeping'--that is true; but always there are some who are usedas instruments, who are not permitted to sleep. The sounds that camefrom the people gradually ceased; they were all very quiet. M. deBois-Sombre I saw at a distance making his dispositions. Then M. PaulLecamus, whom I had long known, came up across the field, and seatedhimself close to me upon the road. I have always had a great sympathywith him since the death of his wife; ever since there has been anabstraction in his eyes, a look of desolation. He has no children or anyone to bring him back to life. Now, it seemed to me that he had the airof a man who was dying. He had been in the city while all of us had beenoutside.
'Monsieur Lecamus,' I said, 'you look very ill, and this is not a placefor you. Could not I take you somewhere, where you might be more at yourease?'
'It is true, Madame,' he said, 'the road is hard, but the sunshine issweet; and when I have finished what I am writing for M. le Maire, itwill be over. There will be no more need--'
I did not understand what he meant. I asked him to let me help him, buthe shook his head. His eyes were very hollow, in great caves, and hisface was the colour of ashes. Still he smiled. 'I thank you, Madame,' hesaid, 'infinitely; everyone knows that Madame Dupin is kind; but when itis done, I shall be free.'
'I am sure, M. Lecamus, that my husband--that M. le Maire--would notwish you to trouble yourself, to be hurried--'
'No,' he said, 'not he, but I. Who else could write what I have towrite? It must be done while it is day.'
'Then there is plenty of time
, M. Lecamus. All the best of the day isyet to come; it is still morning. If you could but get as far as LaClairiere. There we would nurse you--restore you.'
He shook his head. 'You have enough on your hands at La Clairiere,' hesaid; and then, leaning upon the stones, he began to write again withhis pencil. After a time, when he stopped, I ventured to ask--'MonsieurLecamus, is it, indeed, Those----whom we have known, who are in Semur?'
He turned his dim eyes upon me. 'Does Madame Dupin,' he said, 'requireto ask?'
'No, no. It is true. I have seen and heard. But yet, when a little timepasses, you know? one wonders; one asks one's self, was it a dream?'
'That is what I fear,' he said. 'I, too, if life went on, might ask,notwithstanding all that has occurred to me, Was it a