“The horrid gaoler,” returned the little girl, with a shudder. “He came into the cell one morning, and, with a frightful laugh, said, ‘So the young aristocrat’s head is off, with fifty others. It was a fine sight.’ Mamma was in hysterics for hours.”
“And did no one else tell you but that brutal wretch?” again interrogated the midshipman.
“No, William; but as neither mamma nor Jean Plessis ever heard more of him, it must have been true; for the wicked Democrats cut off all the Royalists’ heads they could find in Lyons.”
“And yet, Mabel,” said our hero, “many circumstances might have occurred to save him. How were you and your mamma rescued?”
“Oh, we lingered a long, long time in that horrid prison, reduced in health, with filthy, bad food and cruel treatment, till at last it was resolved to spare no one in that ill-fated city, not even infants.
“Our savage gaoler at last came for us. ‘Come,’ said he, with a ferocious laugh, ‘you are going to enjoy the fresh air; you will see a grand sight.’”
“Inhuman ruffian!” interrupted William Thornton, passionately.
Mabel gazed up into the flushed face of the midshipman so earnestly, and with so affectionate an expression, as if she had done wrong in paining him, and he said—
“I was wrong, dear Mabel, to ask you to relate such painful scenes; the very mention of them inflames even me. But you got away from the wretches; God still watched over you.”
“Ah, yes, God did save us,” replied Mabel, “and sent Jean Plessis in time to rescue us. We were brought out, with hundreds of others, from our vile prison. Oh! how the sun dazzled us, after being so long in the dark cell without its blessed light! When we could look round, we saw the streets filled with a furious mob. We were forced to walk, and those with us said we were to be tied to trees and shot down by cannon; and the prisoners cried and sobbed, whilst the crowd laughed, and hooted, and jeered us, as aristocrats. Amidst these insults we were paraded through the streets till we came to a great square, all in ruins. The houses on all sides were tumbled down, and their furniture tossed about and strewn all over the space—the frightful wretch, Collet d’Herbois, had ordered the town to be blown up. I clung to the side of mamma, whose sweet face was turned towards heaven, as she prayed. Indeed, William, I did not think then of death, but of what mamma suffered. And dear mamma thought only of me.