Edmond awoke from his dreams to life again at this fearful recital. "Thus, does the guest requite," said he to himself, "the hopeful son of the friend, of thy youth. Is not that called love for love? Now I am no longer indebted to thee for thy hospitable reception."
"Hollo! hollo!" shouted Christophe wildly. "Our brethren yonder are bringing the sacrificing priest of Baal. So much the better, he shall be slain here before the eyes of the all seeing God."
Edmond cast a withering glance on the wretch, then looked down and recognised already close beneath him the pastor bound, whom Favart, the swarthy Eustace and other Camisards were dragging up. "Here we bring the knave dear brethren," exclaimed Favart, just as they gained a firm footing on the level rock, and dragged up the old man with cords.
When the exhausted priest was drawn up, he cast such a look of lassitude, pity, and resignation to the will of heaven on the youth, that the hair of the latter stood on end with terror. "God greet you with your booty!" roared he to Favart and Eustace, "but woe to him among you, who approaches the old man even by a look, for such a one will I tear with my teeth." Favart and Eustace stepped back, turning pale, and Edmond loosened himself the cords of the venerable man, then pressed him in his arms, laid his grey head upon his throbbing breast, and a convulsive sobbing prevented all utterance and restrained his tears. "Why," said the aged man, "should I alone remain of all the rest? the poor shepherd, whose flock they have slaughtered?" "What is that?" vociferated Christophe, stammering with rage; "will they rob us of our property that we have purchased with our blood? we have left gold and silver to be consumed in the burning churches, but the life of the idolater is our booty. And who will take it from us? A coward, who without drawing a sword, here safe in the distance, has contemplated our life endangering labour. Away with that! Apostates are we ourselves if we bear the like from an idolater, who has not yet abandoned his former wickedness."
He would have rushed upon the holy man but Edmond intercepted him with the swiftness of lightning, and threw him with such giant strength upon the rock that all his limbs rattled, and he remained lying apparently senseless. Old Favart beheld this with anger, and Eustace, the charcoal-burner, became wrathful. Bertrand stepped wildly forward, and a group of clamorous Camisards pressed round Edmond and the priest. "Who art thou?" exclaimed Favart, "that thou darest play the master here? Wilt thou act the nobleman here?"--He seized the priest, and Eustace also laid a hand upon him. Though as Edmond stepped up to them, Eustace, from old accustomed obedience, let go his hold, and Favart was torn back by the powerful youth. "Lord, Edmond, Beauvais!" cried the man, "our king!" They struggled with each other, and Edmond hurled him down the mountain. "Our brother's neck is broken!" cried they all wildly together, and rushed upon Edmond with drawn weapons, who in this moment had been lost, if Abraham Mazel with a fresh troop had not arrived: Clary, Castanet, Marion, and Vila were among these. Through respect for Mazel they were quiet, and Edmond was enabled to lay the affair before the friends. "We would not be cruel towards the defenceless," said Mazel. Clary remembered Roland's express command to spare the priest; the eloquent Marion exhorted and persuaded the grumblers, and it was determined that the priest, while the guides should clothe themselves in the uniforms of the slaughtered, should be conducted to Florac, that he might there claim the protection of his superior. Edmond offered to take this service upon himself, and Eustace and several of the brethren would accompany him on this expedition.
Conversation and dispute were interrupted, while this scattered and cut off band advanced, whose union with the defeated soldiers Cavalier wished to prevent. The few cavalry went to meet them, the infantry placed themselves in order, and a sanguinary combat began anew on the height. Mazel led them on, and the bravery of the rebels made the military, who were already discouraged, give way. Edmond and his followers were with the young captain and his light horse, who were exposed at a distance in an obstinate combat. The horse of the young man was already killed, but he fought intrepidly and indefatigably, however little he could promise him>self a fortunate issue. Edmond advanced, and cried out, "Surrender young man; you behave gallantly, it would grieve me were you killed here uselessly. I promise you protection and good treatment until you are exchanged for some of ours taken prisoners."
"Miserable rebel!" exclaimed the captain, "dost thou think, that I would receive pardon from such a villain as thou? I know thee, Beauvais, perjurer, apostate; the executioner at Nismes awaits thee already. Look down into that valley, incendiary, and still speak of good treatment!"---He looked searchingly at the youth, glanced down on his sword and fired his pistol at Edmond, it missed, and Edmond at the same moment shot a ball through his breast, so that he fell dead. The remainder were killed in the mêlée, the sergeant, who was still mounted fled precipitately from the height down the rock, Mazel and his followers were already far distant pursuing the enemy.
Edmond descended with those who would accompany him. In a vineyard they enjoyed the repose and frugal fare which could be quickly prepared for them. The old man was revived by a few drops of wine. "Beauvais, art thou my son?" began he, as he saw himself alone with Edmond.--"I am called," said the latter, "after your baptismal name, Edmond; as a testimony how my father has ever loved you."
"Ah, thou dear friend of my youth," said the old man with a deep sigh, "why must I become acquainted with thy son under such circumstances? In this way then have the dreams of thy love, our religious inspirations been embodied? Thus are our fanatic presentiments fulfilled? To these murders and burnings, to these horrible cruelties must we awaken and call our whole youth folly and illusion? Ah! verily poor Louison, thy love to thy protectress has been badly recompensed. You were right unfortunate Caspar, that you did not know in what moment and in what sufferings your happiness would terminate. Now you lie together in a bloody embrace. Why cannot I say to myself, no, this is but a dream! Awake thou miserable old man, and find thy commune, thy children, the former tranquil repose, the sweet peace, and thy beloved church again! Woe! woe! to ye, ye poor, ye innocent! and threefold woe upon the wretches who brought this horror into these distant valleys."--He covered his head, and wept bitterly.
The twilight was extending itself. The pastor wished to visit once more the ruins of his church, and they descended the mountain. Edmond and the priest went alone among the fallen walls. All was destroyed together, the alter only still remained and the statue of the virgin was blackened, though tolerably preserved. The old man took it down and buried it at some distance. "Wherefore?" asked Edmond. "Will not the multitude," said the aged man, "cry out a miracle again, when they find this statue the only thing still nearly preserved in this heap of ashes? Who knows what horrible blood-thirstiness may be enflamed by this accident, what monstrous, insatiable vengeance attached to this wooden symbol in the name of God, in order to satisfy under pretext of eternal love, the horrible feeling, which never should be awakened in the breast of man. No, what may be an innocent amusement in times of peace and happiness, and serve as an exalting, edifying, pious institution, often becomes a banner for the human mind if once wild rebellion has swayed, it followed exultingly by all the horrors of hell. I should consider myself a murderer, if I did not bury this protectress to-day, as our neighbours will inter the poor unprotected to-morrow. Should the Eternal Decree will it otherwise, he will easily render my trouble unnecessary."