A whispered "Stay here!" to me, and mademoiselle stepped forward, gliding softly past the bowed figures to the right and left of her until she came to the edge of the platform; and there, unable to interrupt that silent prayer, she too knelt. So for a space, until at last the pastor rose, and stood surveying the worshippers. For a moment my glance rested curiously on the thin, ascetic face, full of lofty resolve, and then with a rush memory came back to me, and I stood as if lightning-struck. As he looked around my mind went back with a leap to the days gone by, to that hideous morning when my hot hand had struck a death-blow at my friend. It could not be he? And yet! I stared and stared. Yes; it was Godefroy de la Mothe, the friend of my youth, whom I had thought I had slain. There was never a doubt of it! And there, as I stood, the mercy of God came to me, and the weight of a great sin was lifted from my soul. For moments that seemed years all was a dream, and there was a haze before my eyes. Through this I saw mademoiselle arise and face the preacher; but I could not hear her words, though I saw that she spoke quickly and eagerly. And as she spoke there were whisperings and strange glancings amongst the people, and they pressed forward to listen too, but La Mothe lifted his hand. "Brethren," he said in deep, sonorous accents, "we have believed the word of a prince, and the tyrant has lied to us. The edicts are renewed. But, brethren, He lives that delivered His people from Egypt. He lives that defended His Church against Caesars, kings, and profligate princes. His shield is over us, before whose footstool we kneel. Fear not, and be brave! And now, friends, we must part; but, ere we part--some of us, perhaps, never to meet again--let us pray." He knelt once more, and the people with him, and there was a deep silence, broken at last by La Mothe's solemn voice as he began to pray aloud. And as he prayed there came to us from without the muffled tramp of feet, and the murmuring of many voices rising and falling like the swell of the sea, whilst now and again a tongue, shriller and more high-pitched than those of its fellows, would ring out a sharp, menacing bark. Still La Mothe went on unmoved, though uneasy looks were beginning to be exchanged; but at last he too stopped, for the murmurs had swelled to one long roar of savage fury, and the words of the mob reached us distinctly. "To the fire with them! Death to the Christaudins!"