Jacques Bonneval | Page 3

to let him draw a
troublesome tooth of hers which, she took pains to assure us, was not
impaired by natural decay, but only accidentally broken in cracking a
cherry-stone. "The edge is so rough," said she, "that it hurts my tongue;
and since this honest gentleman can extract it painlessly, I have a great
mind to try his hand."
"Plenty of time for that when we get to Beaucaire," said M. Bourdinave.
"Sure, you would not have a tooth drawn in the middle of the high
road?"
"Truly, I should not mind it, inside that nice little wooden house," said

she.
But no, she was not allowed to do so; and, to console her, Madeleine
uncovered a little basket she carried on her arm, and discovered
cherries as red as her own lips, nestling in dark green leaves. "Here,"
said she, cheerfully, "are some stones to take your revenge on."
"Ah, what beauties," cried Alice, taking a few; and the basket being
handed round, we were soon all eating cherries; and Gabrielle asked me
if I did not wish she had the gift of St. Marguerite.
"I do not know what gift you mean," said I, turning half round, and
looking full at her.
"Once on a time," said the lively girl, "the foolish story goes, that two
saints, who were brother and sister, lived in separate monasteries; but
the brother was frequently visited by his sister, on the pretence of
seeking spiritual advice. Their names were St. Honorat and St.
Marguerite. At length the brother grew rather tired of his sister's visits,
and called them a waste of time. 'Henceforth, let it suffice that I shall
visit you occasionally, said he. 'When?' said St. Marguerite. 'When the
cherry-trees blossom,' said St Honorat. Thereupon, St. Marguerite
prayed that the cherry-trees might blossom once a month, which they
did; so her brother acknowledged himself outwitted."
"Fie for shame, daughter," said M. Bourdinave, with displeasure. "I am
grieved that you should remember and repeat such lying legends."
"Dear father, they exercise the fancy--"
"Exercise the fancy, indeed! Let fancy confine herself to her own
province. She is a good servant, but a bad mistress. The Jews exercised
their fancies in the wild Talmudical fables. What said our Saviour of
them? 'Ye make the word of God of none effect through your traditions.
Let me hear no more papistical fables."
Gabrielle hung her head, and stealing a glance that way, I saw
Madeleine pass her arm round her sister's waist, and look sweetly at her,
which made me think Madeleine more attractive than ever. M.
Bourdinave did not immediately recover his equanimity, but addressing
my father, said it more than ever behooved good Reformers to walk
warily, and not give in to any of the ensnaring practices of the
surrounding Catholics. "Little by little they are stealing in on us
already," said he, "and, if our sagacious men are to be believed, a time
of trouble is preparing for us that may perhaps not fall very short of the

massacre on the day of St. Bartholomew."
"Still," said my father, "we are under the protection of the Edict of
Nantes."
"Edicts may be set aside," said M. Bourdinave, in a lowered voice,
which yet I heard, being next him. "Only think how we have been
annoyed and injured the last two or three years, by edicts differing
greatly from the Edict of Nantes. That one, for instance, which
rendered us liable to the intrusion of Catholics into our temples, to spy
at our observances, pick up scraps of our sermons, and report them
incorrectly. What advantage the rabble have taken of it!"
"Too true," said my father, gravely.
"Last year," pursued M. Bourdinave, "that attempted confederacy for
mutual protection, when all our closed meetinghouses were reopened
for worship, showed what temper our adversaries were of."
"It was an ill-considered measure," said my father, slowly.
"Ill-conducted, rather," said M. Bourdinave. "The act should have been
simultaneous; whereas the want of concert among our people betrayed
their weakness, and laid them open to attack. The military at Bordeaux
acted with shocking barbarity."
"I do not like to think upon it," said my father. "I trust there will be no
recurrence of such lamentable scenes."
"I much fear there will be, though," said M. Bourdinave, gloomily.
"Satan desires to have us, that he may sift us like wheat. Let us hope to
abide the trial."
At this moment a burst of noisy music, drowned their voices; and the
needle-seller's horse, which was just before us, making a sudden start,
the poor needle-vendor was thrown off his balance, and jerked out of
his cart on to a heap of flints by the road-side, while his horse began to
kick. Giving the reins to my father, I jumped out,