Kitabı oku: «The Iron Pincers; or, Mylio and Karvel: A Tale of the Albigensian Crusades», sayfa 6

CHAPTER III
THE SHADOW OF WAR

Aimery's plan is accepted, but its execution is immediately rendered superfluous. Hurried steps are heard approaching the house. Florette looks electrified, listens in the direction of the door and cries out: "It is he! It is Mylio – I recognize his steps – I hear him!"

Almost immediately after Florette's announcement Mylio steps into the chamber, followed by Goose-Skin. Florette, Karvel and Morise rush to meet the trouvere. He responds to their embraces with inexpressible bliss. Aimery, Aloys and his mother contemplate the scene with deep emotion.

The Lady of Lavaur – "Oh! He who can inspire so much affection must merit it!"

Aloys (in a low voice to his mother and pointing at Goose-Skin who stands aside) – "Mother, look at that poor old man! Nobody speaks to him. He is entirely forgotten – And he seems to be sad. Shall I go to him and bid him welcome in this country?"

The Lady of Lavaur – "That is a kindly thought. Do so, my dear child."

While Mylio answers in mute transport the caresses of his dear ones, Aloys timidly approaches the old juggler. Goose-Skin is not sad, only he feels greatly embarrassed. In speaking to him of the austere virtues of Karvel the Perfect and his wife, Mylio above all recommended to the juggler not to break out into gross and ribald jests, as was his wont. Accordingly, faithful to the instructions of his friend, Goose-Skin is holding himself in. The old fellow makes serious efforts to repress his droll thoughts; he puckers up his lips, strives to look serious and venerable, but only succeeds in imparting to his otherwise jovial features the pitiful expression that Aloys mistook for sadness.

Aloys (with a kindly voice) – "Welcome in our country, good father!"

Goose-Skin (aside to himself) – "This brat is surely a little Perfect himself. I shall have to keep guard over my tongue. (Aloud to Aloys in a grave and sententious tone) May God preserve you, my young master, and always keep you in the path of virtue. Because virtue – affords more true and merry contentment than the most charming grace – What do I say! – Virtue is a man's lady-love. Well now, virtue excels love-making." (Unable to understand the last words of Goose-Skin, Aloys looks upon the juggler with wondering eyes and returns to his mother, while Goose-Skin proceeds apart to himself) "I am satisfied with my first trial. I have given the youngster a high opinion of my wisdom and of my powers of speech."

Karvel (leading Mylio to Aimery and his sister) – "Dame Giraude, I solicit from you for Mylio a little of the good will that you entertain toward us."

The Lady of Lavaur – "You well know, Karvel, that Aimery and myself have long shared your tender affection for your brother."

Mylio (respectfully and sincerely) – "Madam, Karvel has just been telling me of the debt of gratitude that I owe you. (Pointing to Florette) This dear child dropped on the road exhausted with fatigue – and you, your worthy brother and your son brought her help – you carried her to my brother – "

The Lady of Lavaur (interrupting Mylio) – "If the filling of a duty deserves reward, we shall find it in the happiness of having been helpful to this charming girl, who will soon belong to the brother of one of our best friends."

Mylio (to Aimery, smiling) – "Will you, at least, sir, allow me to thank you for your kindness towards me and my traveling companion? Karvel tells me that you were on the point of taking horse to deliver us from the clutches of our enemies."

Aimery – "Very naturally. Raoul of Montjoire is a friend of mine. Like all of us inhabitants of Languedoc, he has only aversion for the monastic fraternity. I was sure that he would set you free at my request, both you and your merry companion, yonder bulky customer, whose droll songs caused the disturbance."

Goose-Skin (hearing himself referred to as a droll and merry customer, and considering himself in the midst of people who are all more or less Perfects, redoubles his efforts to look dignified) – "I request the noble lady, the noble sir and the other members of this company kindly not to take me for a droll customer. My song, which provoked the ire of the tonsured gentry at the inn, was simply a cry of indignation uttered by a man who might have been virtuous – but who, ripened by experience, knows that the gown does not make the monk, that the bowl does not make the wine, that the gorget does not make the throat, that the skirt does not make the legs – "

Mylio interrupts the flow of Goose-Skin's eloquence with an angry look. The juggler holds his tongue, steps back penitently, and in order to keep himself in countenance proceeds to examine the copper vessels that are placed on the distilling furnace.

Mylio (turning to Aimery, who, together with Karvel could not suppress a smile at the words of the juggler) – "Overpowered, disarmed, pinioned by the men who escorted the two monks, myself and my companion were taken to Raoul of Montjoire. One of the monks said to him: 'These two heretics have had the audacity, one of them of singing a song that was insulting to the priests of the Lord, the other of defending the singer. I call upon you, in the name of the Church, to punish the two criminals.' 'By God, monk, I thank you' answered Raoul, 'you could bring no more acceptable guests to me,' and addressing his men he proceeded: 'Here, friends! Untie the bonds of these brave contemners of the Church of Rome, the modern Babylon that is smirched with rapine and blood!'"

Aimery – "That language is the only one that Raoul could hold!"

Mylio – "As soon done as said. We were freed from our bonds and the Sire of Montjoire added, showing the monk the door: 'Get you gone, and quick as possible, you agent of Rome, vile Romanist, wicked Roman creeper! You are not here in France where the tonsured lackeys of Rome rule the roost!' 'Detestable miscreant! Damned heretic!' cried the monk, furious, and he left the room shaking his fists at Raoul and saying: 'Tremble! The day of the wrath of heaven is near! You will soon be all crushed in your nests, vile viperous heretics!'"

The Lady of Lavaur – "The audacity of these monks should arouse our indignation, were it not that we are aware of the impotence of their hatred."

Mylio – "Oh, madam, the day is unhappily at hand when the hatred of the priests is a thing to be feared. I have hastened hither to let you know it."

Karvel – "What do you mean?"

Mylio – "I have traveled almost day and night to be ahead of tidings that I can plainly see have not yet reached you, and that explain the insolence of the monk and the threats that he hurled at Raoul."

Aimery – "What has happened?"

Mylio – "Pope Innocent III has issued orders to all the bishops to preach a Crusade against the heretics of Languedoc."

Aimery (laughing) – "A Crusade? Do these tonsured folks take our country for the Holy land? We are not Saracens!"

Mylio – "At this very hour he is unchaining against your provinces the same fanatic hatred and savage cupidity that at one time the Papacy unchained against the Saracens. The Pope has already bestowed your lands and other property upon the future Crusaders. He has promised them pardon for all their crimes, the past, the present and the future – earthly riches, heavenly treasures."

The Lady of Lavaur – "What you tell us, Mylio, seems incredible. Whence can all that hatred against us 'heretics,' as they call us, proceed? Does not the Catholic Church preserve in Languedoc its churches, its domains, its bishoprics, its monks and its priests? Have they ever been disturbed in the exercise of their cult? Why should they make a Crusade against us? Simply because we practice the evangelical morality of Jesus according to our own faith? Simply because our heart and our reason reject the myth of original sin which smites with its anathema even the child in its mother's womb? Simply because we smile at the pretension of the priests to claim to be the infallible representatives of God on earth, and declare that the newly born child will be damned if it dies unbaptized? Can they mean to punish us because we prefer our own Perfects, worthy pastors like you, Karvel, who, industrious and austere, practice and preach in the midst of the sacred joys of family life the sublime doctrine of Christ, the friend of the poor and the sorrowing, the enemy of the hypocrites and of the rich? But, moreover, why resort to violence? Are the Catholic priests the only repositories of the true faith? Are they the only inspired ones of God? Let them convert us by reason, by gentleness, by persuasion. Why appeal to violence – to fire and sword! No, no! It would be the height of blindness and of human perversity!"

Mylio – "The Crusades against the Saracens were preached by the Church, and the same Church is now stirring up anew the same execrable passions against the provinces that have withdrawn themselves from the tyranny of Rome. Great dangers are threatening Languedoc. While passing Cahors I learned that a man of rare military valor, but fanatical and merciless, Simon, Count of Montfort-L'Amaury, one of the most famous heroes of the last Crusade in the Holy Land, was placed in the chief command of the Catholic army that is about to invade this country."

Karvel – "Simon of Montfort is well known by us! The choice of such a chief is, indeed, the signal for a war of extermination, a war without mercy or pity. Helas! What disasters are in store for us!"

Aimery – "If the Catholics attack us we shall know how to defend ourselves. I swear to God, this war will be a terrible one!"

The Lady of Lavaur (anxiously) – "But what harm do we do the Catholics? Do we force our belief upon them? By what right should they want to impose theirs upon us with war and violence? In battle the children of the poor mothers are killed. (Saying this in a trembling voice and her eyes wet with tears, Giraude presses her son with anxiety and tenderness to her heart, and takes Aimery's hand.) War is the terror of mothers, sisters and wives! War is an execrable affair!"

Aimery – "Sister dear, calm your fears!"

The Lady of Lavaur – "Alas! I am no heroine. I live on my love for my son and for you, and when I think that you, together with so many friends dear to my heart, may perish in this terrible war! (Again embraces her son passionately and murmurs:) Oh! I am afraid! Good God, have mercy upon us!"

Aloys – "Good mother, do not fear; we shall defend you."

The Lady of Lavaur – "We shall flee this very evening with my brother. We shall take ship at Aigues-Mortes – "

Aimery – "And who will defend the city and the Castle of Lavaur, of which your son is the seigneur?"

The Lady of Lavaur – "Let the priests seize our castle, our lands and all, provided only my son and you are left to me!"

Aimery – "The capture of the city and the castle fatedly draws in its wake the ruin and death of all the inhabitants and men of the field who will take refuge in them at the first tidings of the Crusade. Would you leave them without a guide?"

The Lady of Lavaur – "Pardon me, brother; pardon me, friends. What I said was cowardly – "

A Farmer (enters) – "Seigneur Aimery, one of your servants has just come from the castle, where your friends have gone in haste to consider matters of grave importance with you and with Dame Giraude. Your presence is requested."

Aimery – "The tidings brought by Mylio are confirmed!"

Karvel (to the Lady of Lavaur) – "Courage, Giraude! Friendly hearts and firm devotion will never be wanting to you."

The Lady of Lavaur (drying her tears) – "Adieu, good Karvel! Pity my weakness! I am ashamed of it! Pardon a moment of debility!"

Karvel – "No; you have not been weak. The mother spoke – the sister – the cry of nature leaped from your soul; I honor you all the more therefore. I well know that you never fall short of any duty when the moment comes to fill it."

The Lady of Lavaur – "Alas! I hope so – Oh! What a horrible thing war is! We were happy! (She contemplates her son, embraces and weeps over him.) What wrong have we done to those priests? What wrong have we done them, my poor child!"

Aimery (to Mylio) – "Your presence in these perilous days is a welcome assistance. We know you to be a resolute man, Mylio. So long, Karvel. I shall let you know this evening the result of our conversation with our friends at the castle, and the decision that we may have adopted."

Before leaving the Perfect's house the Lady of Lavaur approaches Florette who all this while has been seated near Morise. After keeping himself aside for a while, Goose-Skin sat down on a bench and is now sound asleep. He is exhausted with the rough handling that he received at the inn. The Lady of Lavaur takes Florette's hand and says with a sad smile on her lips:

"Poor little one, good and devoted as you are, you arrive in our country at an unhappy season. May we weather the dangers that threaten us without having to lose any head that is dear to us! Whatever may happen, count in it on my friendship." Moved into tears, Florette raises to her lips the hands of the Lady of Lavaur with brimming emotion. After a last adieu to Morise and the Perfect, the Lady of Lavaur leaves, accompanied by her son and Aimery.

CHAPTER IV
ROBIN LOVES ME, ROBIN HAS ME!

Left to themselves the family of the Perfect for a moment contemplate one another in silent admiration for Giraude.

Mylio (to Karvel) – "I can not express to you how that woman's charming kindness touches my heart. Even in the midst of her anxieties for her son and her brother, she has words of good will for Florette."

Karvel – "That woman is an angel! (He looks at Mylio in silence for a moment; his eyes moisten with a tear of tenderness; he opens his arms and in a voice trembling with love proceeds:) One more embrace – still another – my dearly beloved brother!"

Mylio and Karvel embrace passionately. Morise and Florette share in silence the emotions of the two brothers. None seem to hear the snores of Goose-Skin, whose sleep is ever sounder and grows more noisy.

Morise (to Mylio) – "So you have come back to us to stay!"

Mylio – "Oh! dear sister, yes; permanently – not so, Florette?"

Florette – "My wishes will be yours, Mylio; still it is sweet to conform to them, seeing I am received with so much kindness by your dear relatives."

Mylio – "And yet, brother, if you have no objection, I have a project that will take me away for several days."

Morise – "What! So soon! Did you hear the wicked boy, Florette? He thinks of leaving us!"

Florette (smiling) – "Either Mylio will take me along with him, or he will leave me here with you; whichever way, I shall be satisfied."

Karvel – "What is your plan, brother?"

Mylio – "My sincere love for Florette has put an end to the pranks of my youth. Your own indulgence and Morise's will draw a veil over the past. Nevertheless I have put to bad use the faculty for poetry that nature endowed me with. I now desire to turn it to a useful purpose. Brother, you and I have read in the legends of our family how, at the time of the invasion of Gaul by the Romans, the Gallic bards fired the courage of our combatants, and how, still later, after the Roman conquest, the bards continued to arouse with their patriotic chants the people of Gaul against the foreign conqueror. The memorable chant of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys:

 
'Drop, drop, thou dew of gore!'
 

armed more than one arm against the Romans."

Karvel – "I grasp your thought – I approve it, Mylio – Aye, it would be putting the poetic talent that God gifted you with to a noble use, by using it to arouse the enthusiasm of our people."

Mylio – "The Church orders her monks to preach the extermination of our country. Now, we the trouveres, like the Gallic bards of old, will fire the people with our songs against the fanatics who threaten our freedom and our lives!"

Morise – "The thought is generous and noble. I join my approval to Karvel's."

Mylio – "A minute ago the Lady of Lavaur repeated twice a few words that drew tears from me: 'What wrong have we done to those priests, my poor child?'"

Florette – "Oh! Mylio, those words made me also weep. They still affect me!"

Mylio – "It is because they are true and heart-rending words that escaped from a maternal heart. What wrong was done to those priests!"

At this moment a snore that sounds like a thunder clap breaks upon the silence from the corner where Goose-Skin is soundly sleeping. Mylio turns around, looks at the juggler, and, smiling at the sight, says to Karvel:

"Brother, I have wholly forgotten to mention my traveling companion to you."

Morise – "Despite his serious mien, your brave companion makes me feel like laughing."

Karvel – "The poor man perhaps feels sad that a minute ago Mylio stopped him short at the best turn of his paraphrase concerning the profound truth that 'the gown does not make the monk.' His discourse was interrupted."

Mylio – "My companion is a juggler, which is the same as saying that his coarse songs, much as they are liked in the taverns, are hardly calculated for delicate ears. I therefore notified Goose-Skin, that is the name that he goes by, that he must keep a watch over his words when near you. Hence his embarrassment, and his obstinate persistence in assuming a venerable appearance. I must pray your indulgence towards him. Yours also, Morise. He is entitled to it by reason of his attachment to me, of which he has given me more than one proof."

Karvel – "All good hearts deserve indulgence and friendship, brother. (Smiling) But I am inclined to reproach you for having made of us scare-crows of virtue and frightening the poor fellow. That is why he is so embarrassed in his conversation and demeanor."

A second snore so prodigious and so much louder than the first escapes from Goose-Skin that he is himself awakened with a start. He rubs his eyes and rolls them around with a scared look; rises abruptly and re-assuming his air of gravity addresses Morise with great affectation of politeness:

"May our compassionate hostess bestow upon me the alms of her mercy for the enormous incongruity of my sleep. But we have been traveling day and night since we left Blois; hence great is my fatigue. Besides, and moreover, in that it causes the vile low appetites to slumber, sleep is of itself a sort of virtue – "

Mylio (interrupting him) – "Why, sister, this fat man who is here boasting to you of the virtuous innocence of his sleep, in that it causes his earthly appetites to slumber – this identical man, who speaks to you in that guise, came near throttling me one day, simply because I woke him up in the middle of a savory dream in which, after seeing Shrove-Tide do battle with Shrove-Tuesday, the one armed with fishes the other with sausages, he was just about to devour both the vanquished and the vanquisher, together with their full accoutrements."

Goose-Skin (in a tone of pitiful reproach to his friend, seeing that Karvel and his wife laugh at Mylio's story) – "Oh, Mylio!"

Mylio – "Accordingly, you are informed that my friend Goose-Skin, whom I hereby introduce to you, is a gourmand, likes his cups a little – or, rather, a good deal – "

Goose-Skin – "I! Just heavens!"

Mylio – "He is also somewhat of a fibber, a roysterer, not over bold, considerable of a libertine and a braggart – that is his portrait from the side of his morals!"

Goose-Skin (with a contrite air) – "Oh! Respectable host and hostess! Do not believe that wicked jester! All that he has just told you is false!"

Mylio – "After this confession that modesty alone kept back from my friend's lips, I shall add: But he has a good heart, he shares his crust of bread with whomsoever is hungry, and his pot of wine with whomsoever is thirsty. Finally, he has given me proofs of affection that I shall not forget in all my life. (Addressing Goose-Skin more particularly) This being said, my good Goose-Skin, my friends and myself must now request you not to have the word 'virtue' constantly on your lips, and, instead of lowering your eyes, of keeping yourself under constraint, of puckering your lips with an air of piety, allow your broad smile to spread freely over your wide countenance, and, should it please you, even to sing, full throated, whatever is your favorite song. Nobody will be angry about it."

Karvel (to Goose-Skin, who heaves a sigh of relief, and whose face seems slowly to dilate) – "My brother has interpreted our thoughts. So, then, dear guest, no more constraint. Return to your natural good spirits. We heartily love a hearty laugh. Do you know why? Because a false or wicked heart never is frankly joyous. Moreover, we believe that much should be pardoned to those who have remained good; they will become better. You are of the former, dear guest. We welcome you. We shall love you as you are, and, jolly friend, love us as we are."

Goose-Skin (wholly himself again) – "Oh! Dame Virtue, I bow to you – "

Mylio (interrupting him) – "How is that? Still affecting sanctity?"

Goose-Skin – "Oh! Dame Virtue! You muffle yourself up in an unseemly cloak. With a suspicious eye, foaming mouth and twisted neck you harass people in the voice of an owl in love, saying: 'This way! Come immediately this way, you lumbering scamp! You sack of wine! You pig of gluttony! You brick of lasciviousness! You hare of cowardice! This way! Be quick about it and adore me, serve me! Woo me! And if you do not, I shall strangle you, vagabond! Green dog! Red donkey! Triple mule!' And do you wonder, sweet lady, that people take their paunches between their hands in order that they may be able to run all the faster, and escape from your gracious invitation?"

Morise (to Karvel, smiling) – "He is right!"

Goose-Skin – "Oh sharp-tongued dame! Old scold of a dame! Claw-fingered dame! Just assume for a moment the mild look, the sweet voice, the good heart, the gentle language of my amiable hostess, Dame Morise, who stands here, or of our worthy host Karvel, who stands there, and you will see, Dame Virtue, whether you will still cause people to run away from you, and whether people will not, on the contrary, say to you (addressing Morise:) 'Dame Virtue, poor old Goose-Skin has been pursued until now by a horrible witch, who, usurping your name, strove by dint of insult and scratches to force him to court her. Alas! Old Goose-Skin now finds out too late the trickery of the witch; he is no longer of the age to court anybody. Therefore, gracious Dame Virtue, pity Goose-Skin. He only now sees you for the first time in your pure and charming reality.' But, alas! I am now too old to dare raise my eyes to you!"

Morise (smiling) – "Let it be so! I shall be Dame Virtue; and in accepting the name I certainly am not Dame Modesty. But, never mind! I am Dame Virtue. Now, then, as such, I call upon you earnestly to raise your eyes up to me. I am neither proud, exacting, jealous nor difficult to please. Young folks or old, good looking or homely, provided their actions prove to me that they occasionally remember me, ever find me in a happy frame of mind and loving. So you see, dear guest, that despite your age, you still may love Dame Virtue!"

Goose-Skin (scratching his ear) – "Oh, certainly! If all that shall be required of me will be some slight service, now and then, I certainly shall enlist myself as your servant, Dame Virtue. But, in all humility, I know myself."

Mylio – "Come, now, my good friend! No exaggerated modesty. I shall on the spot give you an opportunity to prove to my brother and sister that you are capable of a brave and generous act."

Goose-Skin – "Do not undertake too much – take care! I am not yet very firmly nailed to virtue."

Mylio – "A minute ago, while you slept, I informed Karvel, and he approved it, of a good and useful project that I have in mind. You heard at Blois the words of Abbot Reynier as clearly as I did. The Church is about to let loose the dogs of war upon Languedoc. We must now, with our songs, raise the popular resistance to the pitch of heroism against the merciless Crusade. Second me in the undertaking. I rely upon you."

Goose-Skin – "Ho! Mylio, my poor hurdy-gurdy will not wait to accompany my songs. It will break loose all of itself – with laughter if it hears me strike a heroic note. No, no! For your harp be the laurel of battle, for my humble hurdy-gurdy a branch of the grape vine or a bouquet of marjoram."

Karvel (to Goose-Skin) – "Noble guest, take my brother's word. If he has charmed with his chants the ears of the rich, you have charmed those of the poor. You will certainly move their hearts as well if you sing to them of the frightful ills that our country is threatened with by the Crusade that is being preached against us."

Goose-Skin – "Worthy host, may I never in my life again touch a tankard of wine, if I know what to sing upon such a theme."

Florette (timidly) – "Mylio – if I dared – "

Mylio – "Speak, dear child!"

Florette – "I heard you on the road say that that wicked monk of Citeaux, Abbot Reynier, from whose clutches I escaped, thanks to you, Mylio, is one of the chiefs of the Crusade. It seems to me that if Master Goose-Skin would narrate in a song the story of how that wicked monk, who is one of the chief agents of this war which they have started in the name of God, meant to ruin a poor serf girl – "

Goose-Skin (clapping his hands gleefully) – "Florette is right! 'The Fritter of the Abbot of Citeaux!' That shall be the title of the song. You remember, Mylio, the words of Sir Ribald when he told you he meant to make a speedy call at the mill of Chaillotte? Ha! By my hurdy-gurdy! I shall salt the song. I shall pepper it so generously that even people with palates no better than a whale's, once they shall have tasted my song will be seized with a furious appetite to despatch the sycophants! The hypocrites! Devoured with concupiscence, they now propose to massacre people in the name of the Savior of the world!"

Mylio – "Excellent! Excellent, my old Goose-Skin! Instil in your verses the indignation of your soul, and your song will be good for ten thousand soldiers in the defense of Languedoc. (To Florette) Your excellent judgment has served you well, dear girl. Your straightforward and childlike heart is justly in revolt at the horrible spectacle of the hypocrisy of these proud, greedy and debauched priests, who now threaten to exterminate the people of this country while they invoke the name of Jesus, the God of love and forgiveness. (To Morise and Karvel) I shall be back on the day of danger. If my love for Florette has inspired me with disgust for my barren and dissolute life, the remembrance of both you, Morise, and you Karvel, has brought me back here. I wish that my marriage with her who is to be the companion of my life be consecrated by your and your wife's presence. To marry under your auspices, is not that to pledge myself to take you for my model?"

Karvel (profoundly moved, takes the hands of Florette and Mylio, joins them in his own, and says in a tremulous voice) – "Your marriage will be inscribed to-morrow in the register of our city magistrates. Mylio, my brother, Florette, my sister, you whom the mysterious bonds of the heart already unite, I take to witness the thoughts of your souls and the words of your lips, be ye forevermore one! Henceforth rejoice at the same joys, suffer the same pains, console each other in the same hopes, share with each other the daily toils that will worthily provide you with your daily bread. If, happier than Morise and myself, you should live again in your children, strive by precept and by example to develop in them their original goodness. Bring them up in the love of work, of justice and of right, to the end that, faithful to the morals of Christ, one of the wisest men that humanity has produced, they be indulgent towards those whom ignorance, neglect or misery have led astray. For all such let them have a ready pardon, instruction, love and charity.

"But also habituate their young souls to be awake to and to entertain a horror for oppression and iniquity. Habituate your children to the thought that some day they may have to suffer, to struggle and perhaps to die in the defense of their rights. Teach them that, if clemency towards the weak and the suffering is a virtue, resignation to the violent acts of an oppressor is an act of cowardice, is a crime! Saturate their souls in the hatred for injustice; then, on the day of trial, your children will be found ready and resolute. Let them repose unshakable faith in the future, in the enfranchisement of Gaul, our motherland.

"Finally, impart to your children this virile druid conviction – 'Man, immortal and infinite like God, proceeds from one world to another, eternally reviving body and soul in those innumerable stars that shine in the firmament.' Impart to them this sturdy belief, and they will be, as our fathers were during the heroic epoch of our history, healed of the disease of death.

"And now, Mylio, my brother, and Florette, my sister, may your union be what the ardent wishes of my heart desire for it! May the ills that threaten this country leave you unscathed! Oh, believe us, Florette, you will be doubly cherished by us, because, thanks to you, our brother has come back to us, and my wife and myself have gained a sister in you."

At the end of these words, Karvel the Perfect presses Florette and Mylio to his heart and holds them long in his embrace. With her forehead leaning on the shoulder of her husband, Morise partakes of the deep emotion that thrills him and the bridal couple. Goose-Skin himself can not hold back a tear which he wipes away with the point of his thumb. But speedily recovering his habitual good spirits, the old juggler cries out:

"Oxhorns! Master Karvel, excuse the sincerity of old Goose-Skin, but he is of the impression that in the south, as well as the north of Gaul, there is no wedding without a repast. I therefore demand for this evening the wedding feast; to-morrow the marriage will be entered in the city's register; and day after to-morrow Mylio and I will depart to preach the anti-Crusade in our fashion. (Addressing Morise) Oh! Dame Virtue, see how you have mastered me! Ordinarily I am as craven as a hare, and yet, to please you, I shall take the road and preach war with my music-box. But, God wills it. I feel so furiously inclined to sing my war song, that my throat is dry in advance. It will have to be very thoroughly moistened."