"In the temper in which those in authority seem to be at present," said I, "it is to be feared that things will grow worse before they mend." "Meanwhile, remember your father's admonition, I entreat you," said Madeleine; "and, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men." "Rely on it, sweet Madeleine," said I. "I am a man of peace, not of war." Cheered by my little interview with her, I proceeded to my usual work, and, after supping with my family, stole quietly forth on my mission. I reached the neighboring town without misadventure, and, leaving the cart out of sight, raised my uncle's latch and went in. He and my aunt had the house to themselves (for their only servant had gone to her friends); and she was sitting on the bed, supporting his head on her shoulder. "Here's Jacques," said she, looking up. "Jacques, my good lad," said my uncle, holding out his feeble hand, "I thank you for this visit, and yet more for staying with us last night." "You have not noticed any of the dragoons lurking about outside, I hope?" said my aunt, anxiously. "No," said I, "all seems quiet at present; but there is no knowing when they will return, and my parents have sent me to fetch you away. My mother declares she shall know no peace till she has you under her roof." "My good boy, I can no more go to her than I can fly," said my uncle. "Oh yes, uncle, you can. I have brought you a nice covered cart, filled with hay, on which you will lie quite easily, and I will carry you down to it on my back." My uncle and aunt were most thankful for this, and, after very little preparation, closed the shutters of the little dwelling, and turned the key on it. My uncle was made tolerably comfortable, with my aunt seated beside him; and in this way we stealthily quitted the neighborhood. I could hear uproarious voices in the distance, and occasionally a faint scream or wail, but gradually left these painful sounds behind. To say truth, I was by no means sure of our performing this journey in safety, and had many alarms by the way; and as for my uncle, my aunt afterwards told me he was in prayer the whole of the way, to which might probably be ascribed our safety; for ours is a God that heareth prayer, not when it is a mere babble of words, in a language we do not understand, repeated over and over again, and made a merit of; but His ears are attent unto the cry of the contrite heart, and the prayer of them that are sorrowful.