Saint Bartholomew's Eve: A Tale of the Huguenot WarsHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
Saint Bartholomew's Eve: A Tale of the Huguenot Wars
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
France -- History -- Wars of the Huguenots, 1562-1598 -- Fiction
"It is a nice question," Philip said; "but seeing that the
Catholics never keep their oaths and their promises to what they
call heretics, I think that one would be justified, not in telling
a lie, for nothing can justify that, but in availing one's self of
a loophole such as one would scorn to use, to others. I should be
sorry to have the question asked me, though seeing I am not myself
a Huguenot, although I am fighting with them, I think that I could
reply 'no;' especially as it is not a question of my own life only,
but one involving the whole cause of the Huguenots.
"If I were in your place, I don't know that I should do so; but as
you say that you could do it, without your conscience pricking you,
I certainly should not put pressure upon you to say 'yes.' However,
I hope you may never be asked the question, and that we shall meet
with no more interruptions until we get to Nerac. There can be
little doubt that, at present, the Catholics have received no
orders to seize the queen and her son at Nerac; although they have
orders to prevent her, at all costs, from going forward to Paris
except under escort; and are keeping a sharp lookout, to prevent
her from being joined by parties of Huguenots who would render her
force formidable.
"I should hope that, by this time, we are past the last of their
bands. Those we met just now doubtless belonged to the force
gathered in Bazas; and it is in the direction of the north, rather
than the west, that the Catholics are most vigilant. If she
succeeds in making her way through them, it will be well nigh a
miracle.
"Now that we are well past Bazas, we will leave the road and make
our way across the fields; for it is upon the roads that any watch
there may be will be set."
It was a long day's journey, and at eight o'clock in the evening
they lay down in a wood, ten miles from Nerac; having walked fully
fifty miles since crossing the river Ciron.
"I am very glad, Monsieur Philip, that we were not here four hours
earlier."
"Why, Pierre?"
"Because, sir, in that case you would have insisted on pushing on
to Nerac, so as to enter it before the gate is closed; and in that
case I doubt whether, with the best will, I could have got that
far, and I am sure that Jacques and Roger could not have done so."
"No, indeed," Jacques said, "I have done my last inch. For the last
four hours I felt as if walking upon hot irons, so sore are my
feet; and indeed, I could not have travelled at all, if I had not
taken your advice and gone barefoot."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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