Jacques Bonneval; Or, The Days of the DragonnadesManning, Anne
General
Jacques Bonneval; Or, The Days of the Dragonnades
Manning, Anne
Huguenots -- Fiction
When we got back, we found my uncle Chambrun, my mother's only brother,
standing at the door. He was the minister of a small town near Avignon,
and did not care to go to the Fair; nevertheless he was very glad to
hear all about it from those who had been there. We were well pleased
to have so ready a listener; and when we had said our say, he fell into
grave talk with my father and mother of the signs of the times, which
he thought very threatening.
"What can we expect otherwise," said he, "with Louis the Fourteenth
for king and Louvois for his minister, and Père la Chaise for his
confessor, and Madame de Maintenon for his confidante and adviser?
A storm is gathering overhead, but never mind--there is a heaven higher
than all." These words checked us; but youthful spirits soon rise, and
the impression did not last long. I now seemed walking on air, for I
loved and was loved by Madeleine.
A few days after our return from Beaucaire, Marie Lefevre burst in on us
with troubled looks, and exclaimed,
"Have you seen my boy?"
"No!" exclaimed we all.
"Then something has befallen him," cried she, wringing her hands. "We
have lost sight of him."
We gathered about her, full of pity, and asked where he had last been
seen.
"Near Les Arènes."
"He may have fallen into some pit, or lost himself among the dungeons,"
said my mother. "We will go and help you to find him."
So she and I accompanied Marie, who was crying bitterly, and made
frequent inquiries for him by the way.
When we got inside that vast, circular inclosure, we agreed that Marie
should explore one side and we the other, and thus meet at the other
end. This took us some time, for you must know that it consists of two
stories, each of sixty arcades, seventy feet high; and under its great
arches and pillars are many vaulted chambers and passages, wherein good
Christians have been confined; and again, wherein other good Christians
have found asylums in time of hot persecution. Within the amphitheatre
were originally thirty-two rows of seats, which would accommodate at
least twenty thousand spectators that had a mind to feast their eyes on
scenes of blood in the central arena. I looked with curiosity at this
place, which I had never so thoroughly visited before. Some of the dens
were still in use for the bulls that were baited on Sundays, and others
seemed lairs for rogues and vagabonds; but there was many a corner
which, as I said to my mother, would afford a good hiding-place in time
of danger, and one, especially, in which I thought a fugitive might defy
detection (though _I_ had detected it).
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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