Jacques Bonneval; Or, The Days of the DragonnadesManning, Anne
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Jacques Bonneval; Or, The Days of the Dragonnades
Manning, Anne
Huguenots -- Fiction
We looked about and could see neither her nor Alice; and as it was
nearly the hour they call vesper, though the days were still pretty
long, we were greatly alarmed at their disappearance. Little Louison,
however, plucked my sleeve, and said, "I think they went in there,"
pointing to a church-door; so, although my father specially objected to
my setting foot within a Catholic place of worship, Madeleine and I went
in to look for her sister; but my mother kept the children outside. As
soon as we entered we found ourselves almost in darkness, what little
light there was proceeding from great wax candles; and there was a good
deal of tawdry finery and trumpery all about, and a strong smell of
incense. I was looking about me with curiosity and interest, mixed with
a certain repulsion, when Madeleine, in an eager undertone, exclaimed,
"There she is!" and pressed forward, I close following, to a little
side-altar, where Gabrielle and Alice were listening, with amused
wonder, to a priest, who was telling a group of people about him that
what he was exhibiting to them was one of Mary Magdalen's bones; and
that she and Lazarus, and Martha his sister, had put to sea in an old
boat, and in process of time, after being sorely buffeted by winds and
waves, had been cast ashore at Marseilles, where they preached the
gospel to the natives, and converted them all.
I did not believe one word of this, nor did Madeleine, who drew her
reluctant sister away; and when we got her into the open air, rebuked
her for doing what their father would not approve. Gabrielle looked
inclined to defend herself, and make a joke of it. However, a great bell
began to clang so near us as to drown her voice; people were pushing
past us into church, and we found ourselves going against the stream,
and made the best of our way out of it, and back to our quarters.
My father and M. Bourdinave were standing at the door, conversing with
my uncle, and when they saw us they smiled, and my father said, with
unwonted softness in his tone, "Well, children, are you come back? Have
you enjoyed yourselves?" and looked earnestly at Madeleine, whose eyes
sank under his.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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