"Like our Marshal," exclaimed the old man impetuously, "like our Intendant; like the lords there in Nismes, who in the name of God sacrifice their brethren. I have sent some relief to these poor people already, and will provide them with more; it is only a drop of water in the sea, but still in this distress it will comfort a few poor creatures."
The servant retired, and as her father turned a mournful glance towards the mountains, his little daughter approached him smilingly, kissed his hand, and said: "Papa, pray let not you and Frantz became wicked and rebels, for then brother Edmond and I would go to heaven quite alone, and I should not like that; I can never agree with Edmond, he is so terribly pious, you are much better, though your faith may not be of the best kind."
"You say truly, terribly pious;" said the old man, "Oh heaven, when will it please thee to deliver us from these afflictions?"
"There comes Edmond along the garden," said the child, "it will be better not to say anything to him about the wicked Eustace, for we shall have noise and disputes again; he does not like such things at all."
Edmond entered, bowed, put his gun in the corner, and laid aside his pouch. A large dog came bounding up to the little girl, who played with him, and held up some pieces of broken bread.
"Where have you been this morning, my son?" inquired his father.
"At the Intendant's, at the Lord of Basville's," replied Edmond without raising his eyes. "Yonder in Alais, where he will stop for a few days in consequence of the trial of the rebels. He commends himself to you, but he is rather surprised that you should have refused the appointment offered, and thinks that the Marshal would understand it still less."
"The Marshal, my son," began the father, not without emotion, "there are many things that he cannot understand. I thank my God that I retired to this solitude more than ten years ago, for were I still in office, my conscience would compel me to resign it now, and that perhaps would be still more incomprehensible to these two valiant gentlemen. I neither envy nor admire their patriotism and God preserve our family from the fate of rendering such services to the king. Therefore, my dear, my beloved son, I once more give you a paternal warning to abandon these men, it would send me to the grave to see you act like them. What do they require of us? no open, direct service, no assistance which becomes citizens, and which all honorable men are ready to render: but we are required to turn spies and betray our fellow-subjects and our countrymen, to give them up to the rack and to the stake, and to rejoice in the inhumanity which depopulates the land, and congratulate ourselves at having incurred the hatred of God and of all mankind, and if we enquire into this too closely, we are looked upon as traitors to our king and country."
"Is it ever permitted to a subject to enquire?" hastily rejoined Edmond, "I am aware of your sentiments, my father, and I regret them; but ought the subject to enquire into this? May I be allowed to ask where is the submission, where are the ties that bind him to the state, where the holiness, the sublimity, the piety, the honor by which we are men and citizens, and upon which our virtue and existence repose; if I am permitted to say: here I renounce my obedience to you, this you dare not command, though you were my king; though my country, even heaven itself should speak to me through your revered lips."
"You are right, my son," replied the old man, "and because you ask this, you will ever be in the right; the ruler should with humble piety and with godly fear keep within these limits, respect the conscience of his subjects, keep inviolate the promises, the oaths which his noble predecessors made, and which he has repeated after them, and not hurl with his own hand the burning brand into his granaries, by raising up extortioners, judges, and persecutors!--And woe to those, who thus abuse the weakness of his age, his pliable conscience and their own influence; and woe to him who is appointed to fill these offices to slaughter good and pious men; but tenfold woe to the upright man, who from ambition, or a mistaken sense of duty, advances and sets fire to the stake, and extends the rack still more horribly."