"A man of the name of Beoussan, a man of God, lived first at Nismes, and afterwards at Toulouse. He was a reformer and a lawyer, who always, and when the people were poor, gratuitously took up the cause of his companions of the faith: His was a spirit full of gentleness and goodness. He went into foreign countries, became a priest in Switzerland, preached there and in Holland, and edified thousands. Him did the spirit and his native land lead back into our country and then the Lord conducted me to him in the wilderness. My wife was dead at that time, and lonely and childless, as I then was, my whole heart that had lain so long untilled, was again enabled to bear genuine fruit. It was, as if I began from that time to imbibe again a portion of heavenly comfort in my cottage. Thus things went on. I was no longer in ignorance, but I was not yet happy. This would not last, hail-showers sometimes destroyed my seed, and when I often lay in wait with the best dispositions, and with an open and acute mind, loaded and ready to shoot, there came no game, no animal sprang up in the wilderness of my heart. Ah, we totter on thus pitiably for years, and time passes as a dream and intoxication. I glanced round me, I had become old. How! thought I, when the Lord looks down, he will see furrows on thy old skin and thou art still neither hot, nor cold. Than came the late Mr. Beoussan, the holy master, among us. An impulse of the spirit, as he said, led him to us. He was well and comfortable at home, but, pious bird of the forest! he wished to visit once more his beloved mountains, dells, the clear brooks, and to pour so thrillingly, fully, and affectionately into our hearts the tones of the sweet nightingale, that burst from his breast, that he must die from the effort.--Amen!--"
He stopped again, and Edmond said: "I often saw this pious Beoussan at Nismes, before he was executed. It is not yet five years since he sealed his doctrine with an ignominious death."
"Then," pursued Abraham Mazel, "All the former restrictions were renewed with greater severity. We could not speak, scarcely think without being betrayed. A year had now elapsed, when an assembly of religious people in Alais was surprised by Basville, they were all dragged to prison, and all, without further enquiries, were sentenced to martyrdom. This took place in October. I had also been present, and only escaped through a miracle. I had already seen some of the prophecying children here and there, without profit, my heart became rather colder at the sight, because the little worms did not please me in that state. Now, after my day's work was finished, I sat in solitude, tired and exhausted from riding, and looked round at the green meadows, the sky and the mountains. I tried, in my inmost soul, to unravel the mystery, why all should be thus and not otherwise, how God and man, virtue and sin, in and through one another, and how in this entwined knot, now and then the rays of eternity shine down into this temporal world, and how, in one short moment, we feel and experience within us the whole unfathomable eternity, and many thousand thoughts and feelings, of which the smallest in the tittle of time, is allowed no place. Also why we were so miserable, and what was the end of the Lord in this. Behold, my friend, there descended a vast stream of thoughts from heaven, (I saw, but knew not one word, one letter of it) and alighted as with large eagle's wings upon my brain and roared and murmured there, and the marrow of my back became cold as ice, and my inmost soul was congealed and frozen, and my teeth chattered with fear. How the breath lost itself in my breast, and now it was, as if little cooing doves were flying through the immeasureable space of my soul. A gentle heat came over me and my heart sprung open as the rose out of its bud on a spring morning, and the Lord was within me. Then I fell down and my prayer was prophecy. Oh, how could I have thought that his presence was so sweet, who, with his glory, almost broke down the wall of the narrow dwelling. Thanks be to him for ever and ever, Amen!"
"His wonders are immeasureable and unspeakable," said Edmond.
"Many," said Abraham in continuation, "whose faith was suspected, were imprisoned throughout the whole country. They were most severely treated by the Abbé Chaila who resided in the Château Pont Mont-de-Verd. Parents, husbands and betrothed mourned for those that had been carried off. It would have been sinful to place my light under a bushel. I summoned together a little community of zealous souls in the forest, there they witnessed my inspiration, and their courage was raised. It was in the middle of summer, and I prophesied to them that they should release the prisoners. The following night we assembled together, and Pervier, a young man, whose bride was languishing in the prisons, undertook the command. They advanced in front of the dwelling; the Abbé's servants fired from the windows and killed three of our friends. We now ceased to sing psalms, and stormed the castle with trees and firebrands. The gates gave way, we entered, and encountered the Abbé in his chamber. He suffered his dungeon to be opened, we then assured him that he should receive no injury. The prisoners came forth; weeping, joy, sobbing, and singing filled the house. Then they shewed their wounds, the marks of the torture, dimmed eyes and sunken cheeks. A shout for murder resounded around. But Pervier and I appeased the maddened people by word and deed. The Abbé heard the noise, was terrified at our movements, and to save himself, he sprang from a high window into the road, and lay dashed to pieces on the ground. His attendants and many of us ran up to him. 'The Lord has judged him for his cruelties,' exclaimed several voices; they lay down by his side to look into his dying eyes. Many, in spite of their emotion, could not conceal their malicious joy, and thus in reality, our first act was the beginning of the war, a story, which, in order to defame us, they have entirely altered."
"It is believed," said Edmond, "that you criminally and wantonly murdered him."
"Had it depended upon the will of one that was among us," continued Mazel, "that, and much more would have happened. A stout, fierce man was of our party, who very unwillingly submitted to the commands of the moderate Pervier; you know him by his fame, Esprit Seguier. In him already burned the fire, which now shines forth in Catinat and Ravanel, and even then many were of opinion, that this was the true religion, and that the zeal of Elias and not the gentleness of St. John should save us. We all retired quietly, cheerfully, and happily. Not one of us had been discovered. Then Seguier assembled a troop as fierce as himself, and while the soldiers were seeking for us, returned to Pont-de-Verd, burnt the castle, slaughtered all the priests that he found there, and cut down all whom they encountered. But misfortune overtook them. They were defeated; when they sought for the leader, he himself issued from a cottage, and declared his name. 'Wretch!' exclaimed the commander, what treatment dost thou deserve for thy deeds?' 'That which I would give thee, wert thou my prisoner,' replied the enthusiast, 'and verily, such as thy friends would not rejoice over.' He remained firm to the last. He was burnt alive. A proclamation was then issued, offering pardon to all that knew anything of the affair of the Abbé, as well as to such as had been, up to that period, Huguenots in secret. Innocent beings! poor deluded ones! they presented themselves, and were all hanged before their doors, even those, who had never been at Pont-de-Verd. Their anger was now no longer to be restrained, the young men rebelled, I led them to Pervier, arms were sought for, those who had none, took hatchet and sicle; a regiment advanced to oppose us on the left of Karnaulè. As soon as we began to sing, the troops became intimidated; we rushed upon them, their balls were of no effect, we hewed them down, five only escaped, to tell the news of their defeat. Broglio himself then advanced upon us, but he was driven back! A christian festival of thanksgiving was held in the forest, and the Lord prophesied out of me to the edification of all warriors. In our next combat Pervier was wounded, and appointed La Porte our leader; but he did not feel that he was ordained to suffer martyrdom, and soon went with his young wife to Geneva. Then the bold La Porte fought the fearful battle before La Salle, of which thou must have heard. He soon afterwards died gloriously of his wounds, for they all opened afresh, when he was nearly cured, he sang psalms at divine service, with so much ardour, that twenty wounded arteries bled at once, and thus his soul, in red streams, and while he was still singing, hastened up to heaven. To him succeeded his nephew, our brother Roland, in command."
The latter advanced at that moment and affectionately enquired after Edmond's health, and then charged Mazel to place sentinels round about, for that Lord Flotard was coming and had private matters to discuss with him, which no one was permitted to hear. Abraham retired, and immediately from the opposite wood issued a richly dressed man, towards whom Roland politely advanced, and both then hastened to a distance, where they walked up and down on the skirt of the wood engaged in earnest conversation.
"Canst thou hear what they say?" asked Edmond of the aged Eustace.
"No, brother," replied the latter, "how is that possible, since they are so far from us, that I can scarcely distinguish them?"