"Let us trust the 'other path' may open, then," said Joseph, "for most vexatious obstacles are being thrown in the way of our ministers on the frontier; they are either refused passports altogether, or such as they are provided with are declared worthless." "Romilly's passport, then, will be no good," thought I, and I was musing on the moral advantage to my uncle of his having refused to use it from the first, when Joseph in alarm cried-- "Hist--I hear some one galloping hard after us. Let us whip on as fast as we can." But we had just reached the foot of a heavy ascent, and the pursuer gained upon us, and presently came up panting. "Is Minister Chambrun here?" cried he, breathlessly. "Who are you that ask?" returned I. At the same instant my uncle cried-- "Yes, here I am. What is it?" "What a dance you have led me!" cried the messenger. "I come from the commissioner, who sends you a passport, and desires you to go to Bordeaux as fast as you can." What a smile broke over my uncle's face! "Said I not," cried he, joyfully, "that a path would doubtless open for me? Henceforth, my children, never distrust the Lord." His course was now altered. Instead of making for the nearest coast, now within a few miles, on the borders of the Mediterranean, he decided to proceed with all convenient speed to Montauban, where my aunt had friends, thence down the Garonne, and so to Bordeaux. I could but set him on his way and trust his future course to the same good Providence that had hitherto protected him. My aunt was decided to follow his fortunes, happen what would. CHAPTER VI. TRIAL BY FIRE. Day was far spent before I got back, my horse having gone lame. There seemed unusual disturbance in the town; I distinguished a distant hum of many voices, and all at once a shrill cry that made me shudder, followed by the passionate wailing of children, and the incessant barking of dogs. I took the back way to our house, where lay our stable, and entering the little yard, saw to my dismay six or eight cavalry horses standing in it. I sprang from my cart and hurried into the house, on the threshold of which my little brother Charles met me all in tears, and cried, "Oh, they're burning mamma!" I burst into the kitchen; there was a roaring fire on the hearth, which a dragoon was feeding with handfuls of paper torn from our great family Bible; but there were also great billets of wood burning, which threw out intense heat, and close in front of it was placed my mother, penned in with heavy pieces of furniture, while two dragoons in front of her were thrusting their clenched fists in her face, saying, "Now then, you obstinate woman! will you roast like a pig, or say where he is gone?" My mother looked immovable as stone, but directly I entered, I saw her change countenance a little. My father lay on the ground, bound hand and foot, while a dragoon was preparing to beat him with a heavy bridle.