‘Will you promise me not to take part with my mother and Madeleine against the Swiss? My father laughs, and I laugh, but what they say cuts us,--sometimes deeply. We are proud of our country;’ he brushed his hair from his brow and straightened himself, his attitude and action a reproduction of his father. ‘We have reason to be proud of it, and we do not like to be joked about it, and to hear slurs cast on it. Oh! Mademoiselle Gabrielle, I do not know why I ask this of you, but I should feel it dreadfully if you joined them against us, and so, too, would my father.’ ‘I promise with all my heart.’ ‘That is delightful!’ exclaimed Nicholas, clapping his hands, whilst a joyous flush overspread his open countenance; ‘and then, there is something more.’ His face grew solemn at once. ‘Do not speak against, or make a joke about, Bruder Klaus. You do not know what a man that was, what a saint he is, what he did for his country, what a miraculous life he led, what wonders are wrought yet at his tomb. You should have seen his portrait--the grave white face, and the eyes reddened with weeping, and the sunken cheeks! Oh, Mademoiselle Gabrielle, you may be sure that, among the greatest of saints, our Bruder Klaus----’ ‘What!’ exclaimed Madame Deschwanden, looking up from her daughter’s shoulder, as she caught the word; ‘if that boy is not dinning Bruder Klaus into Mademoiselle André’s ear already. Was ever a woman so overwhelmed, so haunted as I am with these ragged old Swiss hermits? I have the nightmare, and dream that Bruder Klaus is dancing on my breast. I look out of the window in the dark, and see Bruder Klaus jabbering in the gloom, and pointing at me with his stick. I wish to goodness the precious Bruder had committed a mortal sin, and his sanctity had gone to the dogs, I do!’ Nicholas drew nearer to Gabrielle, as though shrinking from his stepmother’s expressions as impious, and willing to screen the girl from their pernicious influence. He stooped towards her, with his great blue eyes fastened on her with intensity of earnestness, as he whispered: ‘You will promise me that? Oh! please do, dear mademoiselle!’ ‘Certainly I will,’ answered Gabrielle, frankly looking at him. He caught her hand and kissed it, and then precipitately left the room. END OF VOL. I. FOOTNOTES: [1] The window is described from one existing in the north aisle of the church of S. Foy, at Conches, the stained glass in which church is perhaps the finest in Normandy. [2] Holy Meinrad, &c. Pray for us. Transcriber’s Notes The Table of Contents at the beginning of the book was created by the transcriber. Inconsistencies in hyphenation such as “boxwood”/“box-wood” have been maintained.