Over all Languedoc there was an awful terror at this time--the terror that is born of successful rebellion, and that rebellion the outcome of a religious strife1.
An awful terror which filled now the breasts of those who had erstwhile been the persecutors, even as, not long before, it had filled the breasts of those whom they had persecuted2.
In truth there were none in all that fair province, none--from those who dwelt on its southern borders washed by the sapphire-hued waters of the Mediterranean4, to those who, on its northern boundary, gazed toward the fertile provinces of Linois and Auvergne, or, looking west, saw the rich rolling lands of golden Guienne stretched out before them--but felt, and feeling, dreaded5, the threatening horror that at any moment might engulf6 them. For now no longer were the dungeons7 of the cities filled with Protestants moaning for water, food, or air; no longer did Huguenot women offer their jailers the few miserable9 coins they had about them so that their babes might taste a drop of milk; no longer did men of the Reformed Faith offer their little bags of secreted10 livres and tournois to their warders, so that thereby11 they might be allowed to sleep one hour--only one little hour!--without disturbance12; without horns being blown at their dungeon8 doors to awaken13 them, or blank charges fired from musketoons and fusils with a like intent; without their bodies being pricked14 and stirred up by point of lance or sword at the moment that a heartbroken slumber15 fell upon them.
A change had come! Some of the jails were emptied now; in the smaller towns and villages they existed no longer. Some of those towns and villages were themselves erased16 from off the face of the earth. Down from their mountain homes the Camisards had stolen, creeping like phantoms17 through the night, like panthers on the trail of those whom they track to their doom18, like adders19 gliding20 through the grass. One by one these men of vengeance21 mustered22 outside doomed23 bourgs or hamlets till all were assembled in a compact mass, sometimes to lay violent and open siege to the places, sometimes to be admitted silently at dead of night, or in early dawn, by those who, disguised, had already stolen in. Then the massacre24 took place, the jails gave up their victims who were not already dead, the hateful gibbets and the iron-bound wheels helped to light the fires that consumed the villages, and in the morning there was no sign left either of avenger25 or of victim. Of the former, all had stolen back into their impenetrable fastnesses; of the latter, nothing remained but burning houses and crumbling26 walls, a church destroyed, an altar shattered, and at its base a slaughtered28 priest.
Even in the greater cities--in Montpellier and N?mes, Alais and Uzès--the haunting fear, the terror, the horror was there, even though those cities were fortified29 and garrisoned30, full of soldiers and milices. Yet of what use were these? Of what use dragoons who had fought in close ranks and knee to knee against William of Orange's own English and Dutch troopers? Of what use infantry31 who had stood a solid phalanx of steel under Bouflers and Luxembourg? Of what use a homely32 militia33, when the enemy was unseen and intangible--an enemy which crept in man by man through gates and barriers, disguised as peasant and farmer bringing in produce, or sometimes, in bitter mockery of their foes34, as Catholic priest or Catholic seigneur? It was not strange that against such a foe35 as this all Baville's plans were unavailing, all Julien's military knowledge helpless. And the question which every man asked his neighbour was, Would Montrevel, the new field marshal now on his way from Paris with an enormous army, be able to succeed against such crafty36 and resolute37 enemies any better than his predecessors38 had done?
Baville asked himself the same question now, as he sat where he had sat a month or two before, on that morning when across the room had fallen the shadow of Urbaine as she came in from the garden, her hands full of freshly gathered, dew-sprinkled flowers--his loved Urbaine. Yet he told himself, even as thus he meditated39 and doubted, that if force could do it, it should be done.
Upon his face as he sat alone in his cabinet there was a look which none could perhaps have interpreted, yet which none could have failed to observe; a look that had brought an appearance of age to his face which his fifty years of life should not have placed there; also a look of deep, fierce determination which, cruel as he had ever been, had not hitherto been perceptible upon his handsome features. On the table before him there lay a great chart of the whole Cévennes district; attached to the chart by a silken string was a paper referring to it; on the back of that chart was written in a bold, sprawling40 hand, the words, "Mon plan pour la grande battue des attroupés que je projete," and signed "Julien."
"Bah," Baville exclaimed, after throwing down these papers angrily, "sa grande battue! Son plan! What will come of it? What? Nothing. These dogs are as slippery as snakes. No battue will surround, entrap41 them. And--and--even though they, though this swashbuckler, who thinks more of the bouquet42 of his Celestin or the aroma43 of his white Frontignan than of our province's safety, should prevail, it will not bring her back to me."
And Baville, on whose soul there lay heavy the slaughter27 of countless44 innocent women--their only fault their faith--buried his face in his hands and moaned. "Urbaine, Urbaine," he whispered, "Ma mignonne, ma petite rose blanche, to think of you in their hands, you whom we have nurtured45 so soft and warm, you who, I swore to your father, should be my life's charge, the star of my existence! Fool! fool! fool! to ever let you go thus. Though God he knows," he whispered still, "I did it for the best; did it, knowing the dangers that threatened, that were surely coming, that must above all else strike at Baville and his. Deemed I could save you, send you away to peace and safety."
And still he sat on there, his head in his hands, while from between his fingers the tears trickled46 as he muttered still, "Urbaine, Urbaine!"
"She is dead," he said after a pause. "She must be dead. Of all, they would not spare her--my lamb. That is enough--to belong to me! O God!" he cried, springing from his chair and clasping his hands above his head, "nothing can give her back to me. Yet one thing thou canst give me: Vengeance! vengeance! vengeance! On him, above all, on that treacherous47 Huguenot, that viper48 who, when there was still a chance left, dragged her from the carriage, gave her up to his accursed brethren. Give me that! Place him but once in my hands and I ask no more. Urbaine can never come back, but at least she shall lie in her grave--where is it?"--and he shuddered--"lie in her grave avenged49. Why did I ever trust him--kinsman50 of the de Rochebazons as he is--why not execute him that night at Montvert?"
After the rout51 of Poul's escort and of De Broglie's soldiers in an adjacent place by the Camisards, some half dozen of the dragoons of Hérault had managed to escape from the former slaughter, as well as many more from the latter. As has been said, they fled to N?mes, where Baville was at the time, bringing with them the full account of what had happened to both detachments, and in their dismay and confusion making the disaster none the less in the telling. Now, among those who had thus escaped was one, a young porte-guidon, or cornet, who had by chance ridden also with De Peyre's detachment to Montvert when in attendance on Baville and the abbé's nephew. And there this lad had seen Martin upon the bridge with Buscarlet, had heard something of the conversation which ensued; knew, too, that he had returned to Alais with them. Therefore he was acquainted with Martin's appearance so well that, when the distracted Intendant had demanded from those who had escaped where his child was, he was very well able to inform him.
"My God!" Baville exclaimed, sitting in his rooms in the old Roman city, with the lad before him and surrounded by half the councillors of the place, sitting there white to the lips, "you saw it, saw him drag her out of the carriage, ride away with her."
"I saw it, your Excellency, beyond all doubt. And had it not been that I dared not take my eyes off these Camisards who were attacking me--one of the villains52 was armed with a reaping hook--I would have made a stroke to save mademoiselle; have hamstrung his horse, run him through. But, your Excellency sees," and he pointed53 to his hand, a mass of rags and bandages, "two fingers are gone; cut off as I wrested54 the brutal55 weapon from the man."
"Which road did he take?--yet, why ask?" Baville had said. "Which road would he go but one--that toward their accursed mountain dens56? And he--he was of their faith."
A moment later he interrogated57 the young dragoon again.
"Can you by no chance be mistaken about this man? Think, I beseech58 you! Of all, she could have fallen into no worse hands than his."
"It is impossible, your Excellency. It is the man who sat on the bridge with the curé when we rode into Montvert--the man who returned to Alais with us. Also, I have spoken with him in Montpellier when your Excellency made him welcome at the Intendancy."
Beneath his lips Baville muttered a bitter imprecation as the young officer recalled this fact. It was, he saw now, a fatal error to have committed. Yet--yet he had done it of set purpose, for a reason. No, he would dwell no more on that. And now weeks had passed since Urbaine's disappearance60. She must be dead, he and his wife had told each other a thousand times by night and day.
"Every hope is gone," he said to her more than once, "every hope. She was mine--known to a hundred mountain refugees from Montpellier to be ours. They would not spare her. There is nothing left but vengeance, if he, that kinsman of the de Rochebazons, ever falls into our hands, as he must, as he must. They can not triumph forever. Can not win in the end."
Madame l'Intendante came in to him now as he sat in his room, a gentle, handsome woman on whose face the grief she felt within was very plainly apparent; came in, and, touching61 his forehead softly with her hand, sat down by his side.
"Nicole," she said, "a thought has come to me that--that--my God that I should have to say it!--if Urbaine is still alive, might lead to her rescue."
"A thought!" he exclaimed, his face brightening. "A thought! What thought? Yet what can a thousand thoughts avail? She is Baville's. That dooms62 her."
"Mon mari, suppose--only suppose--they have not slain63 her--nay, deny me not," as her husband made an impatient movement, "suppose they have not slain her yet. Remember, she would be a great hostage, and they, these rebels, boast they seek not warfare64, but only peace--concessions65; offer to lay down their arms if--if--all they ask for their unhappy, mistaken religion is granted."
"Well," Baville replied, yet looking eagerly at her, "well, what then?"
"To bring about a truce66, obtain those concessions. They may have spared her life, if only for a time, if only for a time," she repeated, sobbing67 now.
"Even though they have done so," her husband replied, "concessions are impossible, though I myself desired them. Julien is maddened at his total failure; he will grant none. Montrevel comes full of pride at gaining his long-desired baton68. It is not to make peace, grant concessions, that he is on his way. Rather to cause more slaughter, extermination69. And for her--there," and his eyes wandered toward the direction where, hundreds of leagues away, Paris and the great white palace of Versailles lay, "will she grant any?"
Madame l'Intendante knew well enough to whom he referred--to la femme funeste et terrible--and shook her head sadly, while Baville continued:
"She bars all, blocks all, Alice," and he lowered his voice instinctively70. "Alice, it is she who has lit this torch of rebellion through all Languedoc. Chamillart writes me that Louis has known nothing until now of what has been happening. She has kept him in ignorance until forced by my demand for a great army and the services of Montrevel to tell him."
"My God! What duplicity!"
"It is true. She holds him in the hollow of her hand, winds him round her finger as a child winds a silken thread. Will she grant concessions, do you think?"
"But, Nicole, listen. If she, Urbaine, lives, there may be still time. Montrevel is not yet here. His great army moves slowly. Time, still."
"For what?"
"Have you forgotten? Her real father--that friend of yours--Monsieur Ducaire--have you not often told me he was himself of their faith--a Huguenot?"
"Mon Dieu!" Baville exclaimed, "it is so. He was. Yet, again, what then?"
"If--if she does still live, and it could be communicated to them, they would perhaps spare her. Surely, among the old of those refugees--even among those who are now but elderly--there may be some who would remember her father, could recall this Monsieur Ducaire----"
She paused, alarmed at the strange effect of her words, for Baville's face had turned an ashen71 hue3 as she spoke59. Almost it seemed to his wife as though his handsome features were convulsed with pain as he, repeating those words, whispered:
"Recall Ducaire? Remember her father? Oh! Dieu des Dieux, if they should do that, if there should be one among those who surround her, if she still lives, who could do so! If there is but one who should tell her----"
"What, Baville?"
"No, no, no!" he whispered. "No, no! If so--yet it can not be!--but if it is, if there is any still living to tell her that, then better she be dead. Better dead than bear it."
"Husband," Madame l'Intendante said, "I know now, something tells me--alas72! alas! ever have I suspected it, feared it," and she wrung73 her hands; "you have deceived me, trifled with me from the first. Baville, is it you? Are you in solemn truth her father? Is Ducaire another name, known once in the far-off past, for Baville? Would she be better dead than alive to learn that? Answer me."
"No," he said, "no; you do not understand, can not understand; must not know yet. But I am innocent of that wrong to you. I swear it. And Alice, my wife," he continued as he bent74 over her and kissed her brow, "Alice, my love, if you knew all you would pity me. Alice, I swear it to you--swear that it is not what you think."
Then, as again he kissed her, he murmured the old French proverb:
"Tout75 savoir c'est tout pardonner," adding, "Oh, believe in me, counsel me, my wife."
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1
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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engulf
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| vt.吞没，吞食 | |
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7
dungeons
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| n.地牢( dungeon的名词复数 ) | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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secreted
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| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的过去式和过去分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
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11
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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14
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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15
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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erased
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| v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；清除 | |
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phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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adders
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| n.加法器，（欧洲产）蝰蛇（小毒蛇），（北美产无毒的）猪鼻蛇( adder的名词复数 ) | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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mustered
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的过去式和过去分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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avenger
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| n. 复仇者 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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garrisoned
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| 卫戍部队守备( garrison的过去式和过去分词 )； 派部队驻防 | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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militia
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| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
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foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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entrap
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| v.以网或陷阱捕捉，使陷入圈套 | |
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bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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nurtured
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| 养育( nurture的过去式和过去分词 )； 培育； 滋长； 助长 | |
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trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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viper
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| n.毒蛇；危险的人 | |
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49
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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villains
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| n.恶棍( villain的名词复数 )；罪犯；（小说、戏剧等中的）反面人物；淘气鬼 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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wrested
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| （用力）拧( wrest的过去式和过去分词 )； 费力取得； （从…）攫取； （ 从… ） 强行取去… | |
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55
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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56
dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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58
beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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61
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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dooms
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| v.注定( doom的第三人称单数 )；判定；使…的失败（或灭亡、毁灭、坏结局）成为必然；宣判 | |
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63
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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68
baton
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| n.乐队用指挥杖 | |
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69
extermination
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| n.消灭，根绝 | |
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70
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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71
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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72
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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73
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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74
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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75
tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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