CHAPTER X.
"I am rapt, and cannotCover the monstrous bulk of this ingratitudeWith any size of words."
--_Shakespeare_.
The next day they all set out soon after breakfast for a long drive,taking the direction of the camping-ground of the lads, where theycalled and greatly astonished Max with a sight of his father, whom hesupposed to be far out on the ocean.
The boy's delight fully equalled his surprise, and he was inclined toreturn immediately to 'Sconset; but the captain advised him to stay alittle longer where he was; and he accordingly decided to do so; thoughregretting the loss of even an hour of the society of the father who wasto him the best man in the world and the most gallant and capableofficer of the navy; in short, the impersonation of all that was good,wise, and brave.
The 'Sconset cottages had been engaged only until the first ofSeptember, but by that time our friends were so in love with life uponthe island that learning of some cottages on the cliffs, a littlenorth-west of Nantucket Town, which were just vacated and for rent, theyengaged two of them and at once moved in.
From their new abodes they had a fine view of the ocean on that side ofthe island, and from their porches could watch the swift-sailing yachtsand other vessels passing to and fro.
The bathing-ground was reached by a succession of stairways built in theface of the cliff. The surf was fine, and bathing less dangerous therethan at 'Sconset. Those of them who were fond of the sport found it mostenjoyable; but the captain took the children into the town almost everyday for a lesson in swimming, where the still bathing made it easy forthem.
And now they took almost daily sails on the harbor, occasionallyventuring out into the ocean itself; pleasant drives also; visiting theold windmill, the old graveyards, the soldiers' monument, and everyplace of interest in the vicinity.
Besides these, there was a little trip to Martha's Vineyard, and severalwere taken to various points on the adjacent shores of the mainland.
Much as they had enjoyed 'Sconset life, it now seemed very pleasant tobe again where they could pay frequent visits to libraries and stores,go to church, and now and then attend a concert or lecture.
And there was a good deal of quiet pleasure to be found in ramblesabout the streets and queer byways and lanes of the quaint old town,looking at its odd houses and gardens, and perhaps catching a glimpse ofthe life going on within.
They gained an entrance to some; one day it was to the home of an oldsea captain who had given up his former occupation and now wove basketsof various sizes and shapes, all very neat, strong and substantial.
There was always something pleasant to do; sometimes it was to take thecars on the little three-mile railroad to Surfside and pass an hour ortwo there; again to visit the Athenaeum and examine its stores ofcuriosities and treasures, mostly of the sea; or to select a book fromits library; or to spend an hour among the old china and antiquefurniture offered for sale to summer visitors.
They were admitted to see the cast of the dauphin and bought photographsof it, as well as of many of the scenes in and about the town, withwhich to refresh their memories of the delightful old place when faraway, or to show to friends who had never had the pleasure of a visit toits shores.
Violet spent many an enjoyable hour in sketching, finding no lack ofsubjects worthy of her pencil; and those of the party who liked botanyfound curious and interesting specimens among the flora of the island.
They had very delightful weather most of the time, but there was anoccasional rainy day when their employments and amusements must be suchas could be found within doors.
But even these days, with the aid of fancy-work, and drawing materials,newspapers, magazines and books, conversation and games, were very farfrom dull and wearisome; often one read aloud while the others listened.
One day Elsie brought out a story in manuscript.
"I have been thinking," she said, "that this might interest you all asbeing a tale of actual occurrences during the time of the FrenchRevolution; as we have been thinking and talking so much of that inconnection with the story of the poor little dauphin."
"What is it? and who is the author?" asked her father.
"It is an historical story written by Betty's sister Molly," sheanswered. "For the benefit of the children I will make a few preparatoryremarks," she added, lightly, and with a pleasant smile.
* * * * *
"While France was torn by those terrible Internal convulsions, it wasalso fighting the combined armies of other nations, particularlyAustria and Prussia, who were moved against it from sympathy with theking, and a desire to reinstate him on his throne, and a sense of dangerto themselves if the disorganizing principles of the revolutionistsshould spread into their territories.
"Piedmont was involved in this conflict. Perhaps you remember that it isseparated from Dauphiny, in France, by the Cottian Alps, and that amongthe valleys on the Piedmontese side dwell the Waldenses orVaudois-evangelical Christians, who were for twelve hundred yearspersecuted by the Church of Rome.
"Though their own sovereigns often joined in these persecutions, and thelaws of the land were always far more oppressive to them than to theirpopish fellow-citizens, the Waldenses were ever loyal to king andcountry and were sure to be called upon for their defence in time ofwar.
"In the spring of 1793--some three months after the beheading of KingLouis XVI.--and while the poor queen, the dauphin and the princesses,his sister and aunt, still languished in their dreadful prisons--aFrench army was attempting to enter Piedmont from Dauphiny, which theycould do only through the mountain-passes; and these all the able-bodiedWaldenses and some Swiss troops, under the command of General Godin, aSwiss officer, were engaged in defending.
"It is among the homes of the Waldenses, thus left defenceless againstany plot their popish neighbors might hatch for their destruction, thatthe scene of this story is laid.
"Now, papa, will you be so kind as to read it aloud?" she concluded,handing it to him.
"With pleasure," he said, and all having gathered around to listen, hebegan.
* * * * *
"On a lovely morning in the middle of May, 1793, a young girl and alittle lad might have been seen climbing the side of a mountainoverlooking the beautiful Valley of Luserna. They were Lucia and HenriVittoria, children of a brave Waldensian soldier then serving in thearmy of his king, against the French, with whom their country was atwar.
"Lucia had a sweet, innocent face, lighted up by a pair of large, soft,dark eyes, and was altogether very fair to look upon. Her lithe, slenderfigure bounded from rock to rock with movements as graceful and almostas swift as those of a young gazelle.
"'Sister,' cried the lad half pantingly, 'how nimble and fleet of footyou are to-day! I can scarce keep pace with you.'
"'Ah, Henri, it is because my heart is so light and glad!' she returnedwith a silvery laugh, pausing for an instant that he might overtake her.
"'Yes,' he said, as he gained her side, 'the good news from my fatherand Pierre, and Rudolph Goneto--that they are well and yet unharmed byFrench sword or bullet--has filled all our hearts with joy. Is it not tocarry these glad tidings to Rudolph's mother we take this early walk?'
"'Yes; a most pleasant errand, Henri;' and the rose deepened on themaiden's cheek, already glowing with health and exercise.
"They were now far above the valley, and another moment brought them totheir destination--a broad ledge of rock on which stood a cottage withits grove of chestnut-trees, and a little patch of carefully cultivatedground.
"Magdalen Goneto, the mother of Rudolph, a matron of placid countenanceand sweet and gentle dignity of mien had seen their approach and comeforth to meet them.
"She embraced Lucia with grave tenderness, bestowed a kind caress uponHenri, and leading the way to her neat dwelling, seated them and herselfupon its porch, from which there was a magnificent view of the wholeextent of the valley.
"To the left, and clos
e at hand, lay San Giovanni, with its prettyvillages, smiling vineyards, cornfields and verdant meadows slopinggently away to the waters of the Pelice. On the opposite side of theriver, situate upon a slight eminence was the Roman Catholic town ofLuserna. To the right, almost at their feet, embowered amid beautifultrees--chestnut, walnut, and mulberry--La Tour, the Waldensian capitaland home of Lucia and Henri, nestled among its vineyards and orchards.
"Farther up the vale might be seen Bobbi Villar, and many smallervillages scattered amid the fields and vineyards, or hanging on theslopes of the hills, while hamlets and single cottages clung here andthere to the rugged mountain-side, wherever a terrace, a little basin orhollow afforded a spot susceptible of cultivation. Beyond all toweredthe Cottian Alps, that form the barrier between Piedmont and Dauphiny,their snowy pinnacles glittering in the rays of the newly risen sun.
"It was thither the able-bodied men of the valley had gone to defend thepasses against the French.
"Toward those lofty mountains Lucia's soft eyes turned with wistful,questioning gaze; for there were father, brother, lover, hourly exposedto all the dangers of war.
"Magdalen noted the look, and softly murmured, 'God, even the God of ourfathers, cover their heads in the day of battle!'
"'He will, I know He will,' said Lucia, turning to her friend with abright, sweet smile.
"'You bring me tidings, my child,' said Magdalen, taking the maiden'shand in hers, 'good tidings, for your face is full of gladness!'
"'Yes, dear friend, your son is well,' Lucia answered with a modest,ingenuous blush; 'my father also, and Pierre; we had word from them onlyyesternight. But ah me!' she added with a sigh, 'what fearful scenes ofblood and carnage are yet enacted in Paris, the gay French capital! forfrom thence also, the courier brought news. Blood, he says, flows likewater, and not content with having taken the life of their king, theyforce the queen and the rest of the royal family to languish in prison;and the guillotine is constantly at work dispatching its wretchedvictims, whose only crime, in many instances, is that of wealth andnoble birth.'
"'Alas, poor wretches! alas poor king and queen!' cried Magdalen; 'and,for ourselves, what danger, should such bloodthirsty ruffians force anentrance into our valleys! The passes had needs be well guarded!'
"Lucia lingered not long with her friend, for home duties claimed herattention.
"Magdalen went with them to the brow of the hill, and again embracingLucia, said in tender, joyous accents, 'Though we must now bid adieu,dear child, when the war is over you will come to brighten Rudolph'shome and mine with your constant presence.'
"'Yes; such was the pledge he won from me ere we parted,' the maidenanswered with modest sincerity, a tender smile hovering about the fullred lips and a vivid color suffusing for an instant the delicatelyrounded cheek.
"Then with an affectionate good-by, she tripped away down the rockypath, Henri following.
"A glad flush still lingered on the sweet, girlish face, a dewy lightshone in the soft eyes. Her thoughts were full of Magdalen's partingwords and the picture they had called up of the happy married lifeawaiting Rudolph and herself when he should return to the pursuits ofpeace.
"And he at his post in those more distant mountains, thought of her andhis mother; safe, as he fondly trusted, in the homes his strong arm washelping to defend against a foreign foe. The Vaudois, judging others bythemselves, were, notwithstanding their many past experiences of thetreacherous cruelty of Rome, strangely unsuspicious of their popishneighbors.
"The descent was scarcely yet accomplished by our young friends, whenstartled by the sound of heavy footsteps and gruff voices in their rear,and casting a look behind them, they beheld, rapidly approaching byanother path which wound about the base of the mountain, two men of mostruffianly aspect.
"A wild terror seized upon the maiden as for an instant she caught thegaze of mingled malice and sensuality they bent upon her; and seizingHenri's hand, she flew over the ground toward La Tour with the fleetnessof a hunted doe.
"For herself what had she not to fear! and for the child that he mightbe slain or reserved for a fate esteemed by the Vaudois worse thandeath, in being carried off to Pignerol and brought up in an idolatrousfaith.
"The men pursued, calling to her with oaths, curses, obscene words, andjeering laughter.
"These but quickened her flight; she gained the bridge over theAngrogna, sped across it, over the intervening ground, and through thegate into the town; the footsteps of her pursuers echoing close behind.
"'Ah ha! escaped my embraces for the present, have you, my prettybarbet?' cried one of the miscreants, following her with gloating, crueleyes as she sped onward up the street, feeling only comparatively safeeven there. 'Ah well, it but delays my pleasure a few hours. I knowwhere to find ye and shall pay my respects to-night.'
"'And I,' added his companion with a fierce laugh; 'to ye and manyanother like ye. It's work quite to my taste Holy Mother Church has laidout for us to-night, Andrea.'
"'Yes, yes, Giuseppe, we'll not quarrel with the work or the wages; allthe plunder we can lay hands on; to say naught of the pretty maids suchas yon, or the escape from the fires of purgatory.'
"They were wending their way to the convent of the Recollets as theytalked. Arrived at its gates they were immediately admitted, to find itfilled with cut-throats such as themselves, and soon learned that thechurch also and the house of the cure were in like condition.
"'Good!' they cried, 'how many names in all?'
"'Seven hundred,' said one.
"'Eight hundred,' asserted another.
"'Well, well, be it which it may, we're strong enough for the work, allthe able-bodied barbetti being on the frontier,' cried Andrea,exultingly, 'we'll make short shrift with the old men, women andchildren.'
"'Yes; long live the holy Roman Church! Hurrah for the holy faith! Downwith the barbetti!' cried a chorus of voices. 'We'll have a second St.Bartholomew in these valleys and rid them of the hated presence of thecursed heretics.'
"'That we will,' responded Giuseppe. 'But what's the order ofproceedings?'
"'All the faithful to meet at Luserna at sunset; the vesper bell of theconvent gives the signal shortly after, and we immediately spreadourselves over the valley on a heretic hunt that from San Giovanni toBobbi shall leave not a soul alive to tell the tale.'
"While Magdalen and Lucia conversed in the cottage of the former, M.Brianza, cure of Luserna, seated in the confessional, listened withhorror and indignation to a tale of intended wholesale rapine, murder,and arson, which his penitent was unfolding.
"'I will have neither part nor lot in this thing,' said the priest tohimself, as he left the church a moment later; 'nay more, I shall warnthe intended victims of their danger.'
"Hurrying to his house, he instantly dispatched messengers in all hasteto San Giovanni and La Tour.
"About the same time, in the more remote town of Cavour, the fiendishplot was revealed to Captain Odetti, an officer of the Piedmontesemilitia, then enrolled to act against the French, with a request that hewould take part in its execution. Being a rigid Romanist it wasconfidently expected that he would willingly do so.
"But as noble and humane a man as Luserna's good cure, he listened withlike horror and detestation, and mounting his horse, instantly set offfor La Tour to warn the helpless folk of the threatened calamity, andassist in averting it, if that might yet be possible.
"He travelled post haste, for time pressed; the appointed hour for theattack already drew so near that it was doubtful if even the most promptaction could still avail.
"Pale and breathless with haste and terror, Lucia and Henri gained theshelter of their home, and in reply to the anxious questioning of motherand grandparents, told of the hot pursuit of the evil men who had chasedthem into the town.
"Their story was heard with much concern, not only by the family, butalso by a young man who had entered nearly at the same moment withthemselves.
"His right arm was in a sling; his face, thin and w
an with suffering,wore an expression of anxiety and alarm which deepened momentarily asthe narrative proceeded.
"'How is Bianca?' he asked, upon its conclusion, the quiet tone tellingnothing of the profound solicitude that filled his breast.
"'Much the same,' returned Sara Vittoria, the mother.
"'A little better, I think,' said a weak but cheerful voice from thenext room. 'Maurice, how is your poor arm? come and tell me.'
"He rose and complied with the request.
"Bianca, the elder sister of Lucia, had been for a year or more thebetrothed of Maurice Laborie. He found her lying pale and languid upon acouch.
"'What is it, Maurice?' she asked, presently, noticing his troubledlook.
"'I wish you were well, Bianca.'
"'Ah! I am more concerned about your wound.'
"His thoughts seemed far away. He rose hastily.
"'I must speak to your grandsire. I will be in again;' and he left theroom.
"Marc Rozel, the father of Sara Vittoria, a venerable, white-hairedveteran who had seen his four-score years and ten, sat at the open doorof the cottage, leaning upon his staff, his eyes fixed thoughtfully uponthe towering heights of Mount Vandelin.
"'"As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is roundabout His people from henceforth even forever,"' Maurice heard himmurmur as he drew near.
"There was comfort in the words, and the cloud of care partially liftedfrom the brow of the young Vaudois. But accosting the aged saint withdeep respect, and bending down to speak close to his ear, he uttered afew rapid sentences in an undertone.
"'There seems a threatening of danger, Father Rozel; evil-looking men,such as Lucia and the lad were but now describing, have been seen cominginto the town for the last two or three days; till now, it is said, theRomish church, the convent of Recollets, the house of the cure, andseveral other Catholic houses are full of them. What errand think youdraws them hither just at this time, when nearly every able-bodiedVaudois is absent on the frontier?' Rozel's face reflected somewhat ofthe agitation and alarm in that of Maurice; but ere he could open hislips to reply, a neighbor, a young woman with a child in her arms, camerushing across the street, and calling to them in tones tremulous withexcitement and affright, told of the warning just brought by Brianza'smessenger.
"Her face was white with terror, and she clasped her infant to herbreast with a look of agony, as she asked, 'Can it be, oh can it be thatwe are all to be slain in our helplessness? Something must be done, andthat quickly. But what, alas! can we do? our husbands, brothers, fathersare all at a distance, and the fatal hour draws near.'
"The tones of her voice and some of her words had reached the ears ofthose within the cottage, and they now gathered about her in anintensely excited, terrified group. Question and answer followed inrapid succession till each knew all that she had heard.
"'Can it be possible?' cried Sara, 'can even popish cruelty,ingratitude, and treachery go so far? are not our brave defenders theirsalso? keeping the passes against a common foe?'
"A mournful shake of the head from her aged father was the only reply,save the sobs and cries of the frightened children.
"But at that instant a horseman came dashing up the street, suddenlydrew rein before their dwelling, and hastily dismounting, hurried towardthem.
"'Captain Odetti!' exclaimed Rozel in some surprise.
"'Yes, Rozel, I come to warn you, though, alas! I fear I am too late toprevent bloodshed,' said the officer, sending a pitying glance from oneto another of the terror-stricken group.
"'There is a conspiracy against you; the assassins are even now on foot;but if I cannot save, I will perish with you. The honor of my religionis at stake, and I must justify it by sharing your danger.'
"'Can it be that such designs are really entertained against us?' askedRozel, in trembling tones, glancing from one loved face to another witha look of keenest anguish. 'On what pretext? I know of none.'
"'The late base and cowardly surrender of Fort Mirabouc.'
"'There was but one Vaudois present, and his voice was raised againstit.'
"'True, but what matters that to foes bent upon your destruction? someone was to blame, and why not make a scapegoat of the hated Vaudois? Butlet us not waste time in useless discussion. We must act.'
"The fearful tidings flew from house to house, and in the wildest terrorthe feeble folk began to make what preparations they could forself-defence; by Odetti's advice barricading the streets and houses,collecting missiles to hurl down from the upper windows upon the headsof the assassins, and at the same time dispatching messenger aftermessenger to General Godin, the Swiss officer in command of the troopson the frontier, telling of the danger and praying for instant aid.
"But he, alas! unable, in the nobility of his soul, to credit theexistence of a plot so atrocious, turned a deaf ear to their entreaties,declaring his conviction that the alarm was groundless--a merepanic--and that his troops could not be spared to go on so useless anerrand.
"As one courier after another returned with this same dishearteningreport, the terror and despair were such as to beggar description.
"Lucia Vittoria, recalling, with many a shudder of wild affright, theevil looks and fierce words and gestures of her pursuers of the morning,resolved to defend her own, her mother's, and sister's honor to the lastgasp.
"'The terrible excitement of the hour seemed to give her unnaturalstrength for her task of lifting and carrying stones and fragments ofrock to be used in repelling the expected assault. Assisted by Henri andevery member of the family capable of the exertion, she toiledunceasingly while anything yet remained to be done.
"In the midst of their exertions Magdalen Goneto suddenly appeared amongthem.
"'I have heard, and I come to live or die with you, dear friends,' shesaid, and fell to work with the others.
"At length all was completed, and they could only await in dreadfulsuspense the coming of events. They had continued to importune thecommandant, but with no better success than at first.
"In the closed and barricaded dwellings hearts were going up to God inagonized prayer for help, for deliverance.
"In that of the Vittorias few words were spoken save as now and againthe voice of the aged Rozel or that of his venerable wife, hisdaughter, or Magdalen Goneto, broke the awful silence with some promisefrom the Book of books to those who trust in the Lord.
"Maurice, whose father and brothers were away with the army, torn withanxiety for mother, sisters, and betrothed alike, persuaded the formerto follow Magdalen's example in repairing to the house of the Vittorias,that such efforts as he was able to put forth in his crippled conditionmight be made in their common defence.
"Freely would he shed the last drop of his blood to shield them fromharm, but, alas! what match was he for even one of the horde ofdesperadoes that would soon be upon them? what could he do? how speedilywould he be overpowered! Help _must_ be obtained.
"He stole out through the garden to learn the latest news from thefrontier.
"The fourteenth courier had just returned in sadness; the commandant wasstill incredulous; still firm in his refusal to render aid.
"'We are then given up to the sword of the assassin!' groaned hishearers.
"'No, no, never! it must not be!' cried Maurice with sudden sterndetermination, though there was a quiver of pain in his voice; andsending a glance of mingled love and anguish toward the cottage thatsheltered those dearer to him than life, he set off at a brisk pace upthe valley.
"Love moved him to the task, and spite of weakness and pain, neverbefore had he trodden those steep and dangerous mountain paths with suchcelerity.
"Arrived and admitted to Godin's presence, he poured out his petitionwith the vehemence of one who can take no denial, urging his suit withall the eloquence of intense anxiety and deep conviction of the terribleextremity of the feeble folk in the valley.
"Doubt began to creep into the mind of the brave officer. 'Might therenot be some truth in the story a
fter all?' Yet he answered as before. 'Amere panic. I cannot believe in a plot so atrocious. What! murder incold blood the innocent, helpless wives and children of the brave menwho are defending theirs from a common foe? No, no; human nature is notso depraved!'"
"'So it was thought on the eve of the Sicilian Vespers; on the eve ofSt. Bartholomew; at the time when Castracaro, when De La Trinite, whenPianeza--'
"'Ah,' interrupted the general with a frown, 'but those were deeds ofdays long gone by, and men are not now what they then were.'
"'Sir,' returned Maurice earnestly, 'for twelve hundred years theshe-wolf of Rome has ravaged our fold, slaying sheep and lambsalike--sparing neither age nor sex; and, sir, it is her boast that shenever changes.
"'Nor are men incapable of the grossest injustice and cruelty even inthese days. Look at the fearful scenes of blood enacted even now inFrance! General, the lives of thousands of his majesty's evangelicalsubjects are trembling in the balance, and I do most solemnly assure youthat unless saved by your speedy interposition, or a direct miracle fromHeaven, they will this night fall victims to a sanguinary plot.
"'Ah, sir, what more can I say to convince, to move you? The assassinsare already assembling, the time wanes fast, and will you stretch forthno hand to save their innocent, helpless victims?'
"The general was evidently moved by the appeal. 'Had I but sufficientproof,' he muttered in an undertone of doubt and perplexity.
"Maurice caught eagerly at the word. 'Proof, general! would Odetti,would Brianza have warned us, were the danger not imminent? And do notthe annals of your own Switzerland furnish examples of similar plots?'
"'True, too true! yet--'
"But at this moment the sixteenth courier came panting up to pour out,in an agony of haste and fear, the same tale of contemplated wholesalemassacre, and the story reaching the ears of the Vaudois troops theygathered about the general, imploring, _demanding_ to be sent instantlyto the aid of their menaced wives and children.
"General Godin's mind had been filled with conflicting emotions whileMaurice spoke; his humanity, his honor as a soldier, his duty to thegovernment, were struggling for the mastery.
"'Ought he to march without orders or even the knowledge of hissuperiors? and that too with no more certain proof of the illegalassembling of those who were said to be plotting against the peace andsafety of the Vaudois families?'
"Yet there was no time to reconnoitre ere the dire mischief might bedone. His humanity at last prevailed over more prudentialconsiderations. He commanded the brigade of Waldenses to marchinstantly, and himself followed with another division.
"Bianca Vittoria had been carried to an upper room, where all the familywere now gathered about her bed.
"With unutterable anguish the mother looked upon her two lovelydaughters in the early bloom of womanhood, the babe sleeping upon herbreast, the little ones clinging to her skirts, her aged and infirmparents, all apparently doomed to a speedy, violent death--and worsethan death. Her own danger was well-nigh forgotten in theirs.
"Utter silence reigned in that room and the adjoining one, at this timeoccupied by Magdalen and the mother and sisters of Maurice; every earwas strained to catch the sound of the approaching footsteps of theassassins, or of the longed-for deliverers; a very short season wouldnow decide their fate. Oh, would help never come!
"Lucia, kneeling beside her sister's couch, clasping one thin, whitehand in hers, suddenly dropped it and sprang to her feet.
"'How fast it grows dark! and what was that?' as a heavy, rolling soundreverberated among the mountains; 'artillery?' and her tones grew wildwith terror.
"'Thunder; the heavens are black with clouds,' said Magdalen, coming inand speaking with the calmness of despair.
"A heavy clap nearly drowned her words, then followed crash on crash;the rain came down in torrents--the wind, which had suddenly risen toalmost a hurricane, dashing it with fury against walls and windows; thedarkness became intense except as ever and anon the lurid glare of thelightning lit up the scene for an instant, giving to each a momentaryglimpse of the pale, terror-stricken faces of the others.
"'Alas, alas, no help can reach us now!' moaned Sara, clasping her babecloser to her breast, 'no troops can march over our fearfulmountain-passes in this terrific storm and thick darkness. _We mustdie_!'
"'Oh, God of our fathers, save us! let us not fall into the hands ofthose ruffians, who--more to be feared than the wild beasts of theforest--would rob us of honor and of life!' cried Lucia, falling uponher knees again, and lifting hands and eyes to heaven.
"'Amen!' responded the trembling voice of Rozel. 'Lord, Thine hand isnot shortened that it cannot save, neither Thine ear heavy that itcannot hear!'
"The scenes that followed what pen may portray! the wild anguish of someexpressed in incoherent words, shrieks of terror, and cries for help, asthey seemed to hear amid the roar of the elements the hurried footstepsof the assassins, and to see in the lightning's flash the glitter oftheir steel; the mute agony of others as in the calmness of despair theycrouched helplessly together awaiting the coming blow.
* * * * *
"Meanwhile the fathers, husbands, sons, brothers were hasteninghomeward, their brave hearts torn with anguish at thought of theimpossibility of arriving before the hour set for the murderers to begintheir fiendish work.
"There was no regular order of march, but each rushed onward at hisutmost speed, praying aloud to God for help to increase it, and callingfrantically to his fellows to 'hasten, _hasten_ to the rescue of allthey held most dear.'
"Alas for their hopes! the shades of evening were already falling, andthe storm presently came on in terrific violence, the darkness, theblinding momentary glare of the lightning, the crashing thunder peals,the driving, pouring rain and fierce wind greatly increasing thedifficulties and perils of their advance. God Himself seemed to beagainst them.
"But urged on by fear and love for their helpless ones, and by partiesof distracted women and children sent forward from La Tour--some ofwhom, in their terror and despair, asserted that the work of blood hadalready begun--they pressed onward without a moment's pause, springingfrom rock to rock, sliding down precipices, scaling giddy heights,leaping chasms which at another time they would not have dared toattempt, and tearing through the rushing, roaring mountain torrentsalready greatly swollen by the rain.
"They reached the last of these, and dashing through it, were presentlyin sight of La Tour, when the tolling of the vesper bell of the conventof the Recollets--the preconcerted signal for the assassins to sallyforth--smote upon their ears.
"'Too late! too late!' cried Rudolph Goneto hoarsely.
"'But if too late to save, we will avenge!' responded a chorus of deepvoices, as with frantic haste they sped over the intervening space.
"The next moment the tramp of their feet and the clang of their armswere heard in the streets of the town. Windows and doors flew open andwith cries and tears of joy and thankfulness, wives, children, and agedparents gathered about them almost smothering them with caresses.
"The storm, which had seemed to seal their doom, had proved theirsalvation--preventing some of the murderers from reaching the rendezvousin season, and so terrifying the others that they dared not attempt thedeed alone; especially as it had already begun to be rumored that troopswere on the march to the threatened valley.
"Rudolph found himself encircled by his mother's arms, her kisses andtears warm upon his cheek.
"He held her close, both hearts too full for speech. Then a single wordfell from the soldier's lips, 'Lucia?'
"'Safe.'
"Darting into the house, guided by some subtle instinct, he stood thenext moment in the upper room where she knelt by her sister's couch, thetwo mingling their tears and thanksgivings together.
"All was darkness, but at sound of the well-known step Lucia sprang upwith a cry of joy. 'Saved!'
"Rudolph's emotions, as he held her to his heart, were too big forutterance.
r /> "Some one entered with a light. It was Magdalen, and behind her cameMaurice, pale, haggard, and dripping with rain.
"Bianca's heart gave a joyous bound. He too was safe.
"But a tumult of voices from below--some stern, angry, threatening,others sullen, dogged, defiant, or craven with abject terror--attractedtheir attention.
"Magdalen set down the light and hurried away in the direction of thesounds, Rudolph and Lucia following.
"A number of the Waldenses, sword in hand, and eyes flashing withrighteous indignation, were gathered about two of the would-beassassins, caught by them almost on the threshold of the cottage.
"Their errand who could doubt? and Henri had recognized them as his andLucia's pursuers of the morning.
"She too knew them instantly, and clung pale with affright to Rudolph'sarm, while he could scarce restrain himself from rushing upon, andrunning them through with his sword.
"'Spare us, sirs,' entreated Andrea, quaking with fear under thewrathful glance of the father of the maidens, 'spare us; we have notharmed you or yours.'
"'Nor plotted their destruction? Miserable wretch, ask not your lifeupon the plea that it is not forfeit. Can I doubt what would have beenthe fate of my wife and daughters had they fallen into your hands?'
"'But your religion teaches you to forgive.'
"'True; yet also to protect the helpless ones committed to my care.'
"'We will leave your valleys this hour; never to set foot in themagain.'
"'Ah! yet how far may we trust the word of one whose creed bids him keepno faith with heretics?'
"'" Vengeance is Mine, I will repay."'
"It was the voice of the aged Rozel which broke the momentary silence.
"Vittoria sheathed his sword. Not his to usurp the prerogative of Himwho had that night given so signal deliverance to His 'Israel of theAlps.'"
"Is that all?" asked Lulu, drawing a long breath, as Mr. Dinsmorerefolded the manuscript and gave it back to his daughter.
"Yes," he said, "the author has told of the deliverance of theimperilled ones, and that Vittoria refrained from taking vengeance upontheir cowardly foes; and so ends the story of that night of terror inthe valleys."
"But were all the Waldenses equally forbearing, grandpa?" asked Zoe.
"They were; in all the valleys not a drop of blood was shed; justlyexasperated though the Waldenses were, they contented themselves withsending to the government a list of the names of the baffledconspirators.
"But no notice was taken of it; the would-be murderers were never calledto account till they appeared before a greater than an earthly tribunal.
"But General Godin was presently superseded in his command and shortlyafter dismissed the service. Two plain indications that the sympathy ofthe government was with the assassins and not at all with their intendedvictims."
"But is it true, sir?" asked Max.
"Yes; it is true that at that time, in those valleys, and under thosecircumstances, such a plot was hatched and its carrying out prevented inthe exact way that this story relates."
"Mean, cowardly, wicked fellows they must have been to want to murderthe wives and children and burn and plunder the houses of the men thatwere defending them and theirs from a common enemy!" exclaimed the boy,his face flushing and eyes flashing with righteous indignation.
"Very true; but such are the lessons popery teaches and always hastaught; 'no faith with heretics,' no mercy to any who deny her dogmas;and that anything is right and commendable which is done to destroythose who do not acknowledge her authority and to increase her power;one of her doctrines being that the end sanctifies the means!"
"But what did they mean when they said they were going to have a secondSt. Bartholomew in the valleys?" asked Grace.
"Did you never hear of the massacre of St. Bartholomew, daughter?" herfather asked, stroking her hair caressingly as she sat upon his knee.
"No, papa; won't you tell me about it?"
"It occurred in France a little more than three hundred years ago; itwas a dreadful massacre of the Protestants to the number of from sixtyto a hundred thousand; and it was begun on the night of the twenty-thirdof August; which the Papists call St. Bartholomew's Day.
"The Protestants were shot, stabbed, murdered in various ways, in theirbeds, in the street, any where that they could be found; and for nocrime but being Protestants."
"And popery would do the very same now and here, had she the power,"commented Mr. Dinsmore, "for it is her proudest boast that she neverchanges. She teaches her own infallibility; and what she has done shewill do again if she can."
"What is infallibility, papa?" asked Grace. "To be infallible is to beincapable of error or of making mistakes," he answered. "So poperyteaching that she has never done wrong or made a mistake justifies allthe horrible cruelties she practised in former times; and, in fact, sheoccasionally tells us, through some of her bolder or less waryfollowers, that what she has done she will do again as soon as sheattains the power."
"Which she never will in this free land," exclaimed Edward.
"Never, provided Columbia's sons are faithful to their trust;remembering that 'eternal vigilance is the price of liberty,'" respondedhis grandfather.
Grace was clinging tightly to her father, and her little face was paleand wore a look of fright.
"What is it, darling?" he asked.
"O papa, will they come here some time and kill us?" she asked,tremulously.
"Do not be frightened, my dear little one," he said, holding her close;"you are in no danger from them."
"I don't believe all Roman Catholics would have Protestants persecutedif they could," remarked Betty. "Do you, uncle?"
"No; I think there are some truly Christian people among them," heanswered; "some who have not yet heard and heeded the call, 'Come out ofher, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that yereceive not of her plagues.' We were talking, not of Papists, but ofPopery. Sincere hatred of the system is not incompatible with sincerelove to its deluded followers."