“I got into the workshop somehow, though it was already in a blaze, flaming like a torch from top to bottom, with long red banners of fire streaming from the roof and windows. The smoke nearly choked me, and I thought I should be burnt to a crisp, but I made one bound into a heap of shavings, which were so hot that they set my breeches on fire, and it did not take me long to jump out of them again. I hit my head such a crack on the corner of the workbench that it half stunned me, but not for long; all around the fire was crackling and roaring, and outside I could hear the cries of those mad devils.
“I crawled on my hands and knees towards your figure of St. Marie Madeleine, which I saw near me; I could not bear to see the flames licking up over her little rounded body, and her long beautiful hair!—I just jumped at her, beat out the sparks with my fingers, and caught her in my arms as if she had been alive. ‘Dear St. Madelon! treasure of my heart,’ cried I, ‘don’t be afraid, I will save you,—and myself too, if I have luck!’ There was not a minute to spare, for by this time the roof was falling in, and I could not get out the way I came. But I spied the round loophole in the wall towards the river, struck the glass a blow with my fist, and jumped through it with my saint, as if it had been a paper hoop! A tight fit, I can tell you! but out we popped, splash, to the bottom of the Beuvron! Luckily the bottom is not far from the top, and very soft and muddy, so Madeleine did not so much as bump her pretty head, but as I had not the sense to let go of her, she dragged me down face first, till I was so full of slime and river water that it was a hard job to pull myself out with the lady. So here we are, at last, Master, and I only wish that I could have saved more for you!”
He had a bundle under his arm wrapped up in an old waistcoat, and when he carefully unrolled it, I saw the sweet face of my little saint, not much the worse, except for her scorched toes. Up to this time I had not wept for all the misfortunes that had fallen on me, but at the sight I was touched to the quick, and taking Madeleine and the boy in my arms, I kissed them both, and cried, till the tears ran down my cheeks.
“What became of Cagnat?” I asked when I had recovered myself a little, and reading the answer in the boy’s face, I knelt down, and put my lips to the earth in honor of a brave spirit.
“God reward you both!” I cried, as I looked at the lad still clasping the statue in his bandaged arms, and I thought, “These will last, the souls of these children, on which I have wrought my impress;—wood and stone may be destroyed, but this joy no man can take from me!”
X
THE RIOT
August 30.
When we were a little calmed down, I said to Robinet, “What is done is done, let us see now what is before us.” For I always think that the best way to act in the present is to look upon yesterday’s doings as ancient history. I had been away from Clamecy about three weeks, and I made him sit down and tell me all that had happened in the interval. The town had been under a double curse, the plague and fear, and when the pestilence abated, fear seemed the more dangerous. Bandits flocked from all the surrounding country, to prey upon the unfortunate place; the people were so terrified that they offered no resistance, and those of the baser sort, driven out their wits by fright, even joined themselves to the robbers.
The law had become a dead letter, for of our four Aldermen, one died, two fled, and the Public Prosecutor had also bolted. The Commandant at the Citadel was brave enough, but old, and crippled by gout, besides, having no more brains than you could put in a thimble, he had allowed himself to be torn in pieces.
The only official that remained in the town was the fourth Alderman, a man named Racquin, who finding himself deserted by his colleagues, and opposed by this raging mob, was weak, or cunning enough, to yield to it, instead of trying to put a stop to its depredations. He even allowed the mob to set fire to the houses of men against whom he had a grudge for one reason or another, myself among the number.