"No, my Lord," answered the old man, "and it were well that he returned before evening; for a storm is gathering over the mountains, which bodes us no good."
At this moment a little girl entered with her toys, and sat down at the large hall table. "The storm is raging again so fearfully up in the mountains," said she carressingly, "that I will stay near you, dear papa, I cannot bear such weather, why should there be such noise and thunder in the world?"
"Aye, truly," rejoined Frantz, the old domestic, "and all the misery that has oppressed us for so many years past and to which we see no end!"
"He only knows, who has thus afflicted us," replied the father, sighing; "and he will accomplish his own wise purpose."
"Papa!" exclaimed the child, looking up from her play, "our good Eustace, the charcoalburner, who used to bring me such pretty little stones from the wood, and who lately brought the large wild bird, which he said, was a thrush; the black good man is now become a satan too."
"What art thou chattering there about!" said her father angrily; "who told you this?"
"Martha, my nurse," replied the child; "for he is now in rebellion against his God and his king, until they take him prisoner and burn, or otherwise put him to death, for he will no longer be a Christian; Martha said so this morning, while she was dressing me, and she intends going to the town next week to see the other satans put to death; pray, allow her to go, dear papa? she thinks it will more particularly confirm and strengthen her in her faith, for she too has gone a little astray, and has almost fallen into evil ways. The evil one is very powerful in the neighbourhood, particularly up yonder in the mountains, he is quite at home there; we are much better down here. Papa, the figs are becoming ripe already in the garden."
"Thou chatterer!" said her father, in a tone of displeasure, "I shall take care that you are not so much alone with the old woman."
"It is true enough," interrupted the domestic, "Eustace is up in the mountains with Roland, and has joined the Camisards, his wife and children sit mourning in their desolate home; they are destitute of food, and dread being arrested and, perhaps, condemned on his account."
"I believe," said the Lord of Beauvais, "that you have already relieved them, my good Frantz, if not, do it now; give them what necessaries they may require, but do it prudently, that we may not be called upon to answer for it; for in this general affliction of want and confusion, every thing is suspicious. A man may do as he pleases provided he becomes not a tyrant, and places himself on a level with the executioner."