Jacques Bonneval; Or, The Days of the DragonnadesManning, Anne
General
Jacques Bonneval; Or, The Days of the Dragonnades
Manning, Anne
Huguenots -- Fiction
The bishop then took up the word, and very little can I remember of what
he said, so hampered was I by his presence; but it was plain that he
sought to entangle my uncle in his talk. That was no easy thing to do,
my uncle was so temperate and logical, and so much more conversant with
the Holy Scriptures than the bishop was.
The commissioner, perceiving that the bishop was getting the worst of
it, broke in with--
"All this is beside the mark. The king is determined that you, Monsieur
Chambrun, should be a good Catholic; so it is no good begging off. You
had much better accept the good offer made you, which I trust you will
do on thinking it over."
"The only offer I desire," replied my uncle, "is of a passport, to
enable me, as soon as I am well enough, to follow my brother ministers
to Holland. My reason tells me--"
"A truce with your reason," interrupted the bishop, rising to go away.
"You have too much rhetoric by half. I advise you to reflect and to
obey."
"Monseigneur, I am sure you think you are giving me the best advice,"
said my uncle, feebly. "Nephew, see the noble and reverend gentlemen
out."
CHAPTER IV.
MY UNCLE CHAMBRUN.
Having done so, I returned to my uncle, and said to him,--"Uncle, the
bishop has gone away in great wrath, vowing that you shall repent of
your conduct."
"And when I would have made way for him," said my aunt, indignantly,
"he called me a bad name, and looked as if I were the very scum of
the earth."
"Ah, he does not recognize marriages among the clergy," said my uncle,
calmly. "Never mind him, my good Dorothée; he'd be glad enough to have a
wife of his own, and seeing me so much better off than he is, makes him
captious and querulous. Come and shake up my pillow, for my poor head
aches sadly. I will try to get a little sleep."
At that instant, a loud trampling of horses' feet was heard, together
with the jingling of spurs and the clanking of armor.
"What's that?" cried Aunt Dorothée, running from the bed to the window,
and pulling back the little curtain, "Ah, le beau spectacle! Look out,
Jacques!"
It was indeed a fine spectacle, as far as mere outward splendor went,
to see a troup of cavalry in blue and burnished steel, on powerful black
horses, ride proudly by, making the very earth shake under them; and
many children, attracted by the sight, ran towards them, shouting and
throwing up their caps; but when I looked at the ferocious faces of
these men, seamed with many an ugly scar--their lowering brows, their
terrible eyes, their sour aspect--I felt they might be as dreadful to
face in peace as in war. I watched them out of sight, and then placed
myself beside my uncle, who, with closed eyes and folded hands, was
endeavoring to sleep. My aunt went below to baste the poulet for his
dinner. The house was very still; nothing was to be heard but the
ticking of the clock.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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