it. However, a great bell
began to clang so near us as to drown her voice; people were pushing
past us into church, and we found ourselves going against the stream,
and made the best of our way out of it, and back to our quarters. My
father and M. Bourdinave were standing at the door, conversing with
my uncle, and when they saw us they smiled, and my father said, with
unwonted softness in his tone, "Well, children, are you come back?
Have you enjoyed yourselves?" and looked earnestly at Madeleine,
whose eyes sank under his.
My uncle Nicolas kept a mercer's shop, and his shelves and counters
were now so laden with goods that it was difficult to steer our way
through them to the steep stair which led to the floor above; and that,
too, was converted, for the time, into a kind of warehouse; but above
that was the living-room, and above that, again, numerous bedrooms
with sloping sides, and small windows piercing the steep roof. My aunt
Jeanne was good and hospitable to excess. She would not let M.
Bourdinave and his family return to their lodging till they had supped
with her, though there were other guests; so we were jammed rather
closely around the table with little elbow-room. Then ensued clinking
of glasses, clatter of plates, dishes, knives, forks, the buzzing of many
tongues, savory smells of hot viands, and much helping and pressing of
one another; much talk of the price of silks, velvets, and serges; of the
credit of such and such a house; of the state of trade; of the court; and
of the country. I, wedged between Madeleine and her sister, had the
opportunity of giving her many tender looks, though few words passed
between us. Among the strangers at table was a strangely unpleasant
Englishman, who prefaced every speech with "I want to know--" and
would not be satisfied with a short answer. At length my father mildly
said--
"Sir, you seek to know trade secrets. You know there are secrets in all
trades."
"That is precisely why I want to know them," said he, laughing.
"But a good reason why we should not tell them," said my father; who
then turned from him, and addressed some one else. Gabrielle
whispered, "I shall call that man Monsieur I-want-to-know."
"Ah, well, I know already what I chiefly want," pursued the
Englishman, who, had he not been drinking more freely than was good
for him, would probably have been less communicative. "I've been to
Italy, and have seen the Italian machinery for throwing silk, and shall
carry back a pretty good idea of the process."
"That man shall never carry anything back," whispered a
vindictive-looking Italian, whose eyes glittered like fire.
"Hush! he is only an empty boaster."
"We want no empty boasters. We will not let him steal our trade
secrets."
That night, going home to his lodging, the Englishman was set upon by
the Italian, and pricked with his stiletto, narrowly escaping with his life.
He gave him what he called "a good English black-eye," and bawled
loudly for justice. The Italian ran off, and was no more seen; and the
Englishman, whose ugly name was Hogg, talked big about applying to
his ambassador, Sir William Trumbull, but was induced to let the
matter drop. The ambassador shortly had worse things to complain of.
The next day was the Catholic Feast of St. Magdalen, which, though
we Huguenots felt no manner of respect for, we were obliged to
conform to outwardly, by not selling or working in open shops, till the
services of the day were over. We made up to ourselves for it by having
a prayer-service of our own in-doors, followed by a long exposition and
exhortation from a godly minister named Brignolles, who warned us of
times of trial that should soon be revealed, and adjured us to put on the
whole armor of God, that we might be able to withstand in the evil day,
and having done all, to stand. Then, after our mid-day meal, we went
forth to see the show.
This time I had the care of Gabrielle, and wished I had not, for she was
in her giddiest humor, and a young man, whose appearance I did not
like, continually hung about us, and looked attentively at her, which I
resented, but she was evidently pleased with. At length, some waxwork
attracting our notice, a change took place in the disposition of our party.
I shifted the charge of Gabrielle to her father, and got Madeleine
instead. My memories of the rest of the day are more about Madeleine
than anything else.
I remember, though, that we fell in with our neighbors the Lefevres at a
waxwork stall, and while Madeleine and
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