am!" sighed he, but it was almost laughable, even in that moment, that under this he still wore his night-cap, without being aware of it, and in wandering about in every corner of the hall, he carried his hat in his hand. The huntsman now stole in, took his loaded gun from the shelf, and placed himself quietly by the chimney; "whither are you going" exclaimed Edmond, "out with the rifle, you must all defend yourselves!" "Impossible," stammered the man, "give up the old villain, otherwise the whole house is lost, I know the Camisards." "Scoundrel!" thundered the young man--"where is the miller? Still in bed? all of you, you miserable varlets, shall defend this place with me, nay, even that weak, effeminate boy shall make common cause with us." "The hermit was praying on the ground, all were shouting confusedly in the hall, but no word was heard distinctly; all was confounded with the storm, which every moment became more violent without. The window-frames were demolished, the door cracked and appeared to give way, when, with an apparent air of indifference, the young miller entered, carelessly tying his neckerchief and said: 'Let me out by the back-door, I will speak to the enraged multitude,--quick, give me the key!' These last words were uttered in a tone of command. The old Lord looked at him, took the key from the wall, and opened the door to him himself, the youth went round to the other side of the house. Edmond posted himself with a loaded gun opposite the door, in order to fire among the assailants, in case they succeeded in forcing an entrance. Suddenly a tremendous shout was raised, which seemed like acclamations of joy and was reiterated by the crowds surrounding the house. Then all was still; and after a while a deep voice exclaimed: 'He must come out the assassin, on this spot he shall be torn to pieces!' 'Merciful God,' cried the hermit from the ground, where he still lay, 'that is the terrible Catinat, who knows no compassion!'--after a few words exchanged among them, the high and almost hoarse voice of the youth was heard. 'Silence all,' cried he vehemently: nothing more could be distinguished, for a confused murmur arose. The child glancing from under her dishevelled fair long tresses, said: 'Observe, my little David will yet save that great Goliath there.' The crowds without drew themselves up and marched away, the youth returned again by the garden-door, much heated and nearly breathless; he approached, the hermit still lying prostrate, fixed his eyes upon him, then caught him by the breast and said, 'rise up, God has again spared you to-day, you are safe, return to the town or to your own house:' He then turned to the huntsman, whispered something in his ear, whereupon the latter suddenly fell terrified upon his knees and exclaimed, 'Mercy!' 'Be silent!' said the young miller hastily. The priest looked as if he could have embraced the knees of the wonderful youth, who now turned to