We must now, by the reader's permission, leave the thread of Iola, and take up that of the abbess where we last left it. As soon as she had closed the door and pushed to the panelling which concealed it, the abbess reascended to the nun's gallery in the chapel, and thence proceeded into the great body of the building. She found, as may be supposed, the utmost confusion and alarm prevailing; for by this time the noise of the great bell, and of the various sounds that were rising up around the walls, had roused all the nuns from their pallets, and, with consternation in their countenances, they were hurrying hither and thither, seeking something, and not knowing very well what they sought. Although a good deal alarmed herself, and unable to foresee what might be the end of all that was taking place, the abbess, whose heart was naturally merry, could almost have laughed at the grotesque accidents which fear produced; but, having more mind and character than the whole convent put together, she at once proceeded to restore order. "Go at once to the chapel," she said to every nun she saw; "gather all the sisterhood there, and see that none be omitted. I will join you soon." This order had to be repeated frequently; for at every step she met some one, and several required it to be reiterated two or three times, before terror would suffer them to comprehend it. At length, passing round the end of the chapel, the abbess entered the great court, and found to her joy and satisfaction a much greater body of men drawn up for her defence than she expected; for the woodman had not been idle during the morning, and many more of the peasantry had been warned to listen for the sound of the bell than the voice of the porter could summon. Four of the inferior foresters also had somehow found their way into the building, dressed in leathern coats and iron caps, and each carried on his shoulder a sort of weapon, which none within the walls had ever seen before. This was a sort of small cannon, fastened upon a rudely constructed stock, and fitted to carry a ball of the weight of two or three ounces. There was no lock, nor any contrivance even for applying fire to the touch-hole by one movement; but round the arm of the bearer was twined a coil of match, which one of the men was as at that moment lighting at the porter's lantern.[1] --------------- [Footnote 1: The first mention that I find of the real arquibuse, or match lock, is in an account of the household of the Duke of Burgundy in 1474; but small cannons, called in France coulverines á la main, were used long before. They are represented in the old miniatures, as resting on the shoulder of one soldier, while another takes the aim from behind, and the first applies the match at the word of command.] --------------- "What is that? What is that?" cried the abbess; "it looks like a little falconet."