CONTENTS
ALODGINGFORTHENIGHTbyR。L。StevensonALEAFINTHESTORMbyOuidaATERRIBLYSTRANGEBEDbyWilkieCollinsMICHELLORIO’SCROSSbyHesbaStrettonAPERILOUSAMOURbyStanleyJ。WeymanALODGINGFORTHENIGHT
BY
ROBERTLOUISSTEVENSON
ItwaslateinNovember，1456。ThesnowfelloverPariswithrigorous，relentlesspersistence;sometimesthewindmadeasallyandscattereditinflyingvortices;sometimestherewasalull，andflakeafterflakedescendedoutoftheblacknightair，silent，circuitous，interminable。Topoorpeople，lookingupundermoisteyebrows，itseemedawonderwhereitallcamefrom。MasterFrancisVillonhadpropoundedanalternativethatafternoon，atatavernwindow：wasitonlypaganJupiterpluckinggeeseuponOlympus？orweretheholyangelsmoulting？HewasonlyapoorMasterofArts，hewenton;andasthequestionsomewhattouchedupondivinity，hedurstnotventuretoconclude。AsillyoldpriestfromMontargis，whowasamongthecompany，treatedtheyoungrascaltoabottleofwineinhonourofthejestandgrimaceswithwhichitwasaccompanied，andsworeonhisownwhitebeardthathehadbeenjustsuchanotherirreverentdogwhenhewasVillon’sage。
Theairwasrawandpointed，butnotfarbelowfreezing;andtheflakeswerelarge，damp，andadhesive。Thewholecitywassheetedup。
Anarmymighthavemarchedfromendtoendandnotafootfallgiventhealarm。Iftherewereanybelatedbirdsinheaven，theysawtheislandlikealargewhitepatch，andthebridgeslikeslimwhitesparsontheblackgroundoftheriver。Highupoverheadthesnowsettledamongthetraceryofthecathedraltowers。Manyanichewasdriftedfull;manyastatueworealongwhitebonnetonitsgrotesqueorsaintedhead。Thegargoyleshadbeentransformedintogreatfalsenoses，droopingtowardthepoint。Thecrocketswerelikeuprightpillowsswollenononeside。Intheintervalsofthewindtherewasadullsounddrippingabouttheprecinctsofthechurch。
ThecemeteryofSt。Johnhadtakenitsownshareofthesnow。Allthegravesweredecentlycovered;tallwhitehousetopsstoodaroundingravearray;worthyburgherswerelongagoinbed，be-nightcappedliketheirdomiciles;therewasnolightinalltheneighbourhoodbutalittlepeepfromalampthathungswinginginthechurchchoir，andtossedtheshadowstoandfrointimetoitsoscillations。Theclockwashardontenwhenthepatrolwentbywithhalberdsandalantern，beatingtheirhands;andtheysawnothingsuspiciousaboutthecemeteryofSt。John。
Yettherewasasmallhouse，backedupagainstthecemeterywall，whichwasstillawake，andawaketoevilpurpose，inthatsnoringdistrict。
Therewasnotmuchtobetrayitfromwithout;onlyastreamofwarmvapourfromthechimney-top，apatchwherethesnowmeltedontheroof，andafewhalf-obliteratedfootprintsatthedoor。Butwithin，behindtheshutteredwindows，MasterFrancisVillon，thepoet，andsomeofthethievishcrewwithwhomheconsorted，werekeepingthenightaliveandpassingroundthebottle。
Agreatpileoflivingembersdiffusedastrongandruddyglowfromthearchedchimney。BeforethisstraddledDomNicolas，thePicardymonk，withhisskirtspickedupandhisfatlegsbaredtothecomfortablewarmth。Hisdilatedshadowcuttheroominhalf;andthefirelightonlyescapedoneithersideofhisbroadperson，andinalittlepoolbetweenhisoutspreadfeet。Hisfacehadthebeery，bruisedappearanceofthecontinualdrinker’s;itwascoveredwithanetworkofcongestedveins，purpleinordinarycircumstances，butnowpaleviolet，forevenwithhisbacktothefirethecoldpinchedhimontheotherside。Hiscowlhadhalffallenback，andmadeastrangeexcrescenceoneithersideofhisbull-neck。Sohestraddled，grumbling，andcuttheroominhalfwiththeshadowofhisportlyframe。
Ontheright，VillonandGuyTabarywerehuddledtogetheroverascrapofparchment;Villonmakingaballadewhichhewastocallthe"BalladeofRoastFish，"andTabarysputteringadmirationathisshoulder。Thepoetwasaragofaman，dark，little，andlean，withhollowcheeksandthinblacklocks。Hecarriedhisfourandtwentyyearswithfeverishanimation。Greedhadmadefoldsabouthiseyes，evilsmileshadpuckeredhismouth。Thewolfandpigstruggledtogetherinhisface。Itwasaneloquent，sharp，ugly，earthlycountenance。Hishandsweresmallandprehensile，withfingersknottedlikeacord;andtheywerecontinuallyflickeringinfrontofhiminviolentandexpressivepantomime。AsforTabary，abroad，complacent，admiringimbecilitybreathedfromhissquashnoseandslobberinglips;hehadbecomeathief，justashemighthavebecomethemostdecentofburgesses，bytheimperiouschancethatrulesthelivesofhumangeeseandhumandonkeys。
Atthemonk’sotherhand，MontignyandTheveninPenseteplayedagameofchance。Aboutthefirstthereclungsomeflavourofgoodbirthandtraining，asaboutafallenangel;somethinglong，lithe，andcourtlyintheperson;somethingaquilineanddarklingintheface。Thevenin，poorsoul，wasingreatfeather;hehaddoneagoodstrokeofknaverythatafternoonintheFaubourgSt。Jacques，andallnighthehadbeengainingfromMontigny。Aflatsmileilluminatedhisface;hisbaldheadshonerosilyinagarlandofredcurls;hislittleprotuberantstomachshookwithsilentchucklingsashesweptinhisgains。
"Doublesorquits？"saidThevenin。
Montignynoddedgrimly。
"Somemayprefertodineinstate，"wroteVillon，"onbreadandcheeseonsilverplate。Or，or——helpmeout，Guido！"
Tabarygiggled。
"Orparsleyonagoldendish，"scribbledthepoet。
Thewindwasfresheningwithout;itdrovethesnowbeforeit，andsometimesraiseditsvoiceinavictoriouswhoop，andmadesepulchralgrumblingsinthechimney。Thecoldwasgrowingsharperasthenightwenton。Villon，protrudinghislips，imitatedthegustwithsomethingbetweenawhistleandagroan。Itwasaneerie，uncomfortabletalentofthepoet’s，muchdetestedbythePicardymonk。
"Can’tyouhearitrattleinthegibbet？"saidVillon。"Theyarealldancingthedevil’sjigonnothing，upthere。Youmaydance，mygallants;you’llbenonethewarmer。Whew，whatagust！Downwentsomebodyjustnow！Amedlarthefeweronthethree-leggedmedlar-tree！
Isay，DomNicolas，it’llbecoldto-nightontheSt。DenisRoad？"heasked。
DomNicholaswinkedbothhisbigeyes，andseemedtochokeuponhisAdam’sapple。Montfaucon，thegreat，grislyParisgibbet，stoodhardbytheSt。DenisRoad，andthepleasantrytouchedhimontheraw。AsforTabary，helaughedimmoderatelyoverthemedlars;hehadneverheardanythingmorelight-hearted;andheheldhissidesandcrowed。Villonfetchedhimafilliponthenose，whichturnedhismirthintoanattackofcoughing。
"Oh，stopthatrow，"saidVillon，"andthinkofrhymesto’fish’！"
"Doublesorquits？SaidMontigny，doggedly。
"Withallmyheart，"quothThevenin。
"Isthereanymoreinthatbottle？"askedthemonk。
"Openanother，"saidVillon。"Howdoyoueverhopetofillthatbighogshead，yourbody，withlittlethingslikebottles？Andhowdoyouexpecttogettoheaven？Howmanyangels，doyoufancy，canbesparedtocarryupasinglemonkfromPicardy？OrdoyouthinkyourselfanotherElias——andthey’llsendthecoachforyou？"
"/Hominibus/impossible，"repliedthemonk，ashefilledhisglass。
Tabarywasinecstasies。
Villonfillipedhisnoseagain。
"Laughatmyjokes，ifyoulike，"hesaid。
Villonmadeafaceathim。"Thinkofrhymesto’fish，’"hesaid。"WhathaveyoutodowithLatin？You’llwishyouknewnoneofitatthegreatassizes，whenthedevilcallsforGuidoTabary，/clericus/——thedevilwiththehumpbackandred-hotfingernails。Talkingofthedevil，"headded，inawhisper，"lookatMontigny！"
Allthreepeeredcovertlyatthegamester。Hedidnotseemtobeenjoyinghisluck。Hismouthwasalittletoaside;onenostrilnearlyshut，andtheothermuchinflated。Theblackdogwasonhisback，aspeoplesay，interrifyingnurserymetaphor;andhebreathedhardunderthegruesomeburden。
"Helooksasifhecouldknifehim，"whisperedTabary，withroundeyes。
Themonkshuddered，andturnedhisfaceandspreadhisopenhandstotheredembers。ItwasthecoldthatthusaffectedDomNicolas，andnotanyexcessofmoralsensibility。
"Comenow，"saidVillon——"aboutthisballade。Howdoesitrunsofar？"
Andbeatingtimewithhishand，hereaditaloudtoTabary。
Theywereinterruptedatthefourthrhymebyabriefandfatalmovementamongthegamesters。Theroundwascompleted，andTheveninwasjustopeninghismouthtoclaimanothervictory，whenMontignyleapedup，swiftasanadder，andstabbedhimtotheheart。Theblowtookeffectbeforehehadtimetoutteracry，beforehehadtimetomove。Atremorortwoconvulsedhisframe;hishandsopenedandshut，hisheelsrattledonthefloor;thenhisheadrolledbackwardoveroneshoulder，witheyeswideopen;andTheveninPensete’sspirithadreturnedtoHimwhomadeit。
Everyonesprangtohisfeet;butthebusinesswasoverintwotwos。
Thefourlivingfellowslookedateachotherinratheraghastlyfashion，thedeadmancontemplatingacorneroftheroofwithasingularanduglyleer。
"MyGod！"saidTabary，andhebegantoprayinLatin。
Villonbrokeoutintohystericallaughter。HecameastepforwardandduckedaridiculousbowatThevenin，andlaughedstilllouder。Thenhesatdownsuddenly，allofaheap，uponastool，andcontinuedlaughingbitterly，asthoughhewouldshakehimselftopieces。
Montignyrecoveredhiscomposurefirst。
"Let’sseewhathehasabouthim，"heremarked;andhepickedthedeadman’spocketswithapractisedhand，anddividedthemoneyintofourequalportionsonthetable。"There’sforyou，"hesaid。
Themonkreceivedhissharewithadeepsigh，andasinglestealthyglanceatthedeadThevenin，whowasbeginningtosinkintohimselfandtopplesidewaysoffthechair。
"We’reallinforit，"criedVillon，swallowinghismirth。"It’sahangingjobforeverymanJackofusthat’shere——nottospeakofthosewhoaren’t。"Hemadeashockinggestureintheairwithhisraisedrighthand，andputouthistongueandthrewhisheadononeside，soastocounterfeittheappearanceofonewhohasbeenhanged。Thenhepocketedhisshareofthespoil，andexecutedashufflewithhisfeetasiftorestorethecirculation。
Tabarywasthelasttohelphimself;hemadeadashatthemoney，andretiredtotheotherendoftheapartment。
MontignystuckTheveninuprightinthechair，anddrewoutthedagger，whichwasfollowedbyajetofblood。
"Youfellowshadbetterbemoving，"hesaid，ashewipedthebladeonhisvictim’sdoublet。
"Ithinkwehad，"returnedVillon，withagulp。"Damnhisfathead！"hebrokeout。"Itsticksinmythroatlikephlegm。Whatrighthasamantohaveredhairwhenheisdead？"Andhefellallofaheapagainuponthestool，andfairlycoveredhisfacewithhishands。
MontignyandDomNicolaslaughedaloud，evenTabaryfeeblychimingin。
"Cry-baby！"saidthemonk。
"Ialwayssaidhewasawoman，"addedMontigny，withasneer。"Situp，can’tyou？"hewenton，givinganothershaketothemurderedbody。
"Treadoutthatfire，Nick！"
ButNickwasbetteremployed;hewasquietlytakingVillon’spurse，asthepoetsat，limpandtrembling，onthestoolwherehehadbeenmakingaballadenotthreeminutesbefore。MontignyandTabarydumblydemandedashareofthebooty，whichthemonksilentlypromisedashepassedthelittlebagintothebosomofhisgown。Inmanywaysanartisticnatureunfitsamanforpracticalexistence。
NosoonerhadthetheftbeenaccomplishedthanVillonshookhimself，jumpedtohisfeet，andbeganhelpingtoscatterandextinguishtheembers。MeanwhileMontignyopenedthedoorandcautiouslypeeredintothestreet。Thecoastwasclear;therewasnomeddlesomepatrolinsight。Stillitwasjudgedwisertoslipoutseverally;andasVillonwashimselfinahurrytoescapefromtheneighbourhoodofthedeadThevenin，andtherestwereinastillgreaterhurrytogetridofhimbeforeheshoulddiscoverthelossofhismoney，hewasthefirstbygeneralconsenttoissueforthintothestreet。
Thewindhadtriumphedandsweptallthecloudsfromheaven。Onlyafewvapours，asthinasmoonlight，fleetedrapidlyacrossthestars。Itwasbittercold;and，byacommonopticaleffect，thingsseemedalmostmoredefinitethaninthebroadestdaylight。Thesleepingcitywasabsolutelystill;acompanyofwhitehoods，afieldfulloflittlealps，belowthetwinklingstars。Villoncursedhisfortune。Woulditwerestillsnowing！Now，whereverhewent，heleftanindelibletrailbehindhimontheglitteringstreets;whereverhewent，hewasstilltetheredtothehousebythecemeteryofSt。John;whereverhewent，hemustweave，withhisownploddingfeet，theropethatboundhimtothecrimeandwouldbindhimtothegallows。Theleerofthedeadmancamebacktohimwithnewsignificance。Hesnappedhisfingersasiftopluckuphisownspirits，and，choosingastreetatrandom，steppedboldlyforwardinthesnow。
Twothingspreoccupiedhimashewent：theaspectofthegallowsatMontfauconinthisbright，windyphaseofthenight’sexistence，forone;andforanother，thelookofthedeadmanwithhisbaldheadandgarlandofredcurls。Bothstruckcolduponhisheart，andhekeptquickeninghispaceasifhecouldescapefromunpleasantthoughtsbymerefleetnessoffoot。Sometimeshelookedbackoverhisshoulderwithasuddennervousjerk;buthewastheonlymovingthinginthewhitestreets，exceptwhenthewindswoopedroundacornerandthrewupthesnow，whichwasbeginningtofreeze，inspoutsofglitteringdust。
Suddenlyhesaw，alongwaybeforehim，ablackclumpandacoupleoflanterns。Theclumpwasinmotion，andthelanternsswungasthoughcarriedbymenwalking。Itwasapatrol。Andthoughitwasmerelycrossinghislineofmarchhejudgeditwisertogetoutofeyeshotasspeedilyashecould。Hewasnotinthehumourtobechallenged，andhewasconsciousofmakingaveryconspicuousmarkuponthesnow。Justonhislefthandtherestoodagreathotel，withsometurretsandalargeporchbeforethedoor;itwashalfruinous，heremembered，andhadlongstoodempty;andsohemadethreestepsofit，andjumpedintotheshelteroftheporch。Itwasprettydarkinside，aftertheglimmerofthesnowystreets，andhewasgropingforwardwithoutspreadhands，whenhestumbledoversomesubstancewhichofferedanindescribablemixtureofresistances，hardandsoft，firmandloose。Hisheartgavealeap，andhesprangtwostepsbackandstareddreadfullyattheobstacle。Thenhegavealittlelaughofrelief。Itwasonlyawoman，andshedead。Hekneltbesidehertomakesureuponthislatterpoint。
Shewasfreezingcold，andrigidlikeastick。Alittleraggedfineryflutteredinthewindaboutherhair，andhercheekshadbeenheavilyrougedthatsameafternoon。Herpocketswerequiteempty;butinherstocking，underneaththegarter，Villonfoundtwoofthesmallcoinsthatwentbythenameofwhites。Itwaslittleenough，butitwasalwayssomething;andthepoetwasmovedwithadeepsenseofpathosthatsheshouldhavediedbeforeshehadspenthermoney。Thatseemedtohimadarkandpitiablemystery;andhelookedfromthecoinsinhishandtothedeadwoman，andbackagaintothecoins，shakinghisheadovertheriddleofman’slife。HenryV。ofEngland，dyingatVincennesjustafterhehadconqueredFrance，andthispoorjadecutoffbyacolddraughtinagreatman’sdoorwaybeforeshehadtimetospendhercoupleofwhites——itseemedacruelwaytocarryontheworld。Twowhiteswouldhavetakensuchalittlewhiletosquander;andyetitwouldhavebeenonemoregoodtasteinthemouth，onemoresmackofthelips，beforethedevilgotthesoul，andthebodywaslefttobirdsandvermin。Hewouldliketouseallhistallowbeforethelightwasblownoutandthelanternbroken。
Whilethesethoughtswerepassingthroughhismind，hewasfeeling，halfmechanically，forhispurse。Suddenlyhisheartstoppedbeating;afeelingofcoldscalespassedupthebackofhislegs，andacoldblowseemedtofalluponhisscalp。Hestoodpetrifiedforamoment;thenhefeltagainwithonefeverishmovement;thenhislossburstuponhim，andhewascoveredatoncewithperspiration。Tospendthriftsmoneyissolivingandactual——itissuchathinveilbetweenthemandtheirpleasures！Thereisonlyonelimittotheirfortune——thatoftime;andaspendthriftwithonlyafewcrownsistheEmperorofRomeuntiltheyarespent。Forsuchapersontolosehismoneyistosufferthemostshockingreverse，andfallfromheaventohell，fromalltonothing，inabreath。Andallthemoreifhehasputhisheadinthehalterforit;
ifhemaybehangedto-morrowforthatsamepurse，sodearlyearned，sofoolishlydeparted！Villonstoodandcursed;hethrewthetwowhitesintothestreet;heshookhisfistatheaven;hestamped，andwasnothorrifiedtofindhimselftramplingthepoorcorpse。Thenhebeganrapidlytoretracehisstepstowardthehousebesidethecemetery。Hehadforgottenallfearofthepatrol，whichwaslonggonebyatanyrate，andhadnoideabutthatofhislostpurse。Itwasinvainthathelookedrightandleftuponthesnow;nothingwastobeseen。Hehadnotdroppeditinthestreets。Haditfalleninthehouse？Hewouldhavelikeddearlytogoinandsee;buttheideaofthegrislyoccupantunmannedhim。Andhesawbesides，ashedrewnear，thattheireffortstoputoutthefirehadbeenunsuccessful;onthecontrary，ithadbrokenintoablaze，andachangefullightplayedinthechinksofdoorandwindow，andrevivedhisterrorfortheauthoritiesandParisgibbet。
Hereturnedtothehotelwiththeporch，andgropedaboutuponthesnowforthemoneyhehadthrownawayinhischildishpassion。Buthecouldonlyfindonewhite;theotherhadprobablystrucksidewaysandsunkdeeplyin。Withasinglewhiteinhispocket，allhisprojectsforarousingnightinsomewildtavernvanishedutterlyaway。Anditwasnotonlypleasurethatfledlaughingfromhisgrasp;positivediscomfort，positivepain，attackedhimashestoodruefullybeforetheporch。Hisperspirationhaddrieduponhim;andalthoughthewindhadnowfallen，abindingfrostwassettinginstrongerwitheveryhour，andhefeltbenumbedandsickatheart。Whatwastobedone？Lateaswasthehour，improbableaswashissuccess，hewouldtrythehouseofhisadoptedfather，thechaplainofSt。Benoit。
Heranalltheway，andknockedtimidly。Therewasnoanswer。Heknockedagainandagain，takingheartwitheverystroke;andatlaststepswereheardapproachingfromwithin。Abarredwicketfellopenintheiron-studdeddoor，andemittedagushofyellowlight。
"Holdupyourfacetothewicket，"saidthechaplainfromwithin。
"It’sonlyme，"whimperedVillon。
"Oh，it’sonlyyou，isit？"returnedthechaplain;andhecursedhimwithfoul，unpriestlyoathsfordisturbinghimatsuchanhour，andbadehimbeofftohell，wherehecamefrom。
"Myhandsarebluetothewrist，"pleadedVillon;"myfeetaredeadandfulloftwinges;mynoseacheswiththesharpair;thecoldliesatmyheart。Imaybedeadbeforemorning。Onlythisonce，father，and，beforeGod，Iwillneveraskagain！"
"Youshouldhavecomeearlier，"saidtheecclesiastic，coolly。"Youngmenrequirealessonnowandthen。"Heshutthewicketandretireddeliberatelyintotheinteriorofthehouse。
Villonwasbesidehimself;hebeatuponthedoorwithhishandsandfeet，andshoutedhoarselyafterthechaplain。
"Wormyoldfox！"hecried。"IfIhadmyhandunderyourtwist，Iwouldsendyouflyingheadlongintothebottomlesspit。"
Adoorshutintheinterior，faintlyaudibletothepoetdownlongpassages。Hepassedhishandoverhismouthwithanoath。Andthenthehumourofthesituationstruckhim，andhelaughedandlookedlightlyuptoheaven，wherethestarsseemedtobewinkingoverhisdiscomfiture。
Whatwastobedone？Itlookedverylikeanightinthefrostystreets。
Theideaofthedeadwomanpoppedintohisimagination，andgavehimaheartyfright;whathadhappenedtoherintheearlynightmightverywellhappentohimbeforemorning。Andhesoyoung！Andwithsuchimmensepossibilitiesofdisorderlyamusementbeforehim！Hefeltquitepatheticoverthenotionofhisownfate，asifithadbeensomeoneelse’s，andmadealittleimaginativevignetteofthesceneinthemorningwhentheyshouldfindhisbody。
Hepassedallhischancesunderreview，turningthewhitebetweenhisthumbandforefinger。Unfortunatelyhewasonbadtermswithsomeoldfriendswhowouldoncehavetakenpityonhiminsuchaplight。Hehadlampoonedtheminverses;hehadbeatenandcheatedthem;andyetnow，whenhewasinsocloseapinch，hethoughttherewasatleastonewhomightperhapsrelent。Itwasachance。Itwasworthtryingatleast，andhewouldgoandsee。
Ontheway，twolittleaccidentshappenedtohimwhichcolouredhismusingsinaverydifferentmanner。For，first，hefellinwiththetrackofapatrol，andwalkedinitforsomehundredyards，althoughitlayoutofhisdirection。Andthisspiritedhimup;atleasthehadconfusedhistrail;forhewasstillpossessedwiththeideaofpeopletrackinghimallaboutParisoverthesnow，andcollaringhimnextmorningbeforehewasawake。Theothermatteraffectedhimquitedifferently。Hepassedastreet-cornerwhere，notsolongbefore，awomanandherchildhadbeendevouredbywolves。Thiswasjustthekindofweather，hereflected，whenwolvesmighttakeitintotheirheadstoenterParisagain;andalonemaninthesedesertedstreetswouldrunthechanceofsomethingworsethanamerescare。Hestoppedandlookedupontheplacewithanunpleasantinterest——itwasacentrewhereseverallanesintersectedeachother;andhelookeddownthemall，oneafteranother，andheldhisbreathtolisten，lestheshoulddetectsomegallopingblackthingsonthesnoworhearthesoundofhowlingbetweenhimandtheriver。Herememberedhismothertellinghimthestoryandpointingoutthespot，whilehewasyetachild。Hismother！
Ifheonlyknewwhereshelived，hemightmakesureatleastofshelter。Hedeterminedhewouldinquireuponthemorrow;nay，hewouldgoandseeher，too，pooroldgirl！Sothinking，hearrivedathisdestination——hislasthopeforthenight。
Thehousewasquitedark，likeitsneighbours;andyetafterafewtapsheheardamovementoverhead，adooropening，andacautiousvoiceaskingwhowasthere。Thepoetnamedhimselfinaloudwhisper，andwaited，notwithoutsometrepidation，theresult。Norhadhetowaitlong。Awindowwassuddenlyopened，andapailfulofslopssplasheddownuponthedoor-step。Villonhadnotbeenunpreparedforsomethingofthesort，andhadputhimselfasmuchinshelterasthenatureoftheporchadmitted;butforallthathewasdeplorablydrenchedbelowthewaist。Hishosebegantofreezealmostatonce。Deathfromcoldandexposurestaredhimintheface;herememberedhewasofphthisicaltendency，andbegancoughingtentatively。Butthegravityofthedangersteadiedhisnerves。Hestoppedafewhundredyardsfromthedoorwherehehadbeensorudelyused，andreflectedwithhisfingertohisnose。
Hecouldonlyseeonewayofgettingalodging，andthatwastotakeit。Hehadnoticedahousenotfaraway，whichlookedasifitmightbeeasilybrokeninto;andthitherhebetookhimselfpromptly，entertaininghimselfonthewaywiththeideaofaroomstillhot，withatablestillloadedwiththeremainsofsupper，wherehemightpasstherestoftheblackhours，andwhenceheshouldissue，onthemorrow，withanarmfulofvaluableplate。Heevenconsideredonwhatviandsandwhatwinesheshouldprefer;andashewascallingtherollofhisfavouritedainties，roastfishpresenteditselftohismindwithanoddmixtureofamusementandhorror。
"Ishallneverfinishthatballade，"hethoughttohimself;andthen，withanothershudderattherecollection，"Oh，damnhisfathead！"herepeated，fervently，andspatuponthesnow。
Thehouseinquestionlookeddarkatfirstsight;butasVillonmadeapreliminaryinspectioninsearchofthehandiestpointofattack，alittletwinkleoflightcaughthiseyefrombehindacurtainedwindow。
"Thedevil！"hethought。"Peopleawake！Somestudentorsomesaint，confoundthecrew！Can’ttheygetdrunkandlieinbedsnoringliketheirneighbours？What’sthegoodofcurfew，andpoordevilsofbell-
ringersjumpingatarope’sendinbell-towers？What’stheuseofday，ifpeoplesitupallnight？Thegripestothem！"Hegrinnedashesawwherehislogicwasleadinghim。"Everymantohisbusiness，afterall，"addedhe，"andifthey’reawake，bytheLord，Imaycomebyasupperhonestlyforonce，andcheatthedevil。"
Hewentboldlytothedoorandknockedwithanassuredhand。Onbothpreviousoccasionshehadknockedtimidlyandwithsomedreadofattractingnotice;butnowwhenhehadjustdiscardedthethoughtofaburglariousentry，knockingatadoorseemedamightysimpleandinnocentproceeding。Thesoundofhisblowsechoedthroughthehousewiththin，phantasmalreverberations，asthoughitwerequiteempty;
butthesehadscarcelydiedawaybeforeameasuredtreaddrewnear，acoupleofboltswerewithdrawn，andonewingwasopenedbroadly，asthoughnoguileorfearofguilewereknowntothosewithin。Atallfigureofaman，muscularandspare，butalittlebent，confrontedVillon。Theheadwasmassiveinbulk，butfinelysculptured;thenosebluntatthebottom，butrefiningupwardtowhereitjoinedapairofstrongandhonesteyebrows;themouthandeyessurroundedwithdelicatemarkings;andthewholefacebaseduponathickwhitebeard，boldlyandsquarelytrimmed。Seenasitwasbythelightofaflickeringhand-
lamp，itlookedperhapsnoblerthanithadarighttodo;butitwasafineface，honourableratherthanintelligent，strong，simple，andrighteous。
"Youknocklate，sir，"saidtheoldman，inresonant，courteoustones。
Villoncringed，andbroughtupmanyservilewordsofapology;atacrisisofthissort，thebeggarwasuppermostinhim，andthemanofgeniushidhisheadwithconfusion。
"Youarecold，"repeatedtheoldman，"andhungry？Well，stepin。"Andheorderedhimintothehousewithanobleenoughgesture。
"Somegreatseigneur，"thoughtVillon，ashishost，settingdownthelampontheflaggedpavementoftheentry，shottheboltsoncemoreintotheirplaces。
"YouwillpardonmeifIgoinfront，"hesaid，whenthiswasdone;andheprecededthepoetupstairsintoalargeapartment，warmedwithapanofcharcoalandlitbyagreatlamphangingfromtheroof。Itwasverybareoffurniture;onlysomegoldplateonasideboard，somefolios，andastandofarmourbetweenthewindows。Somesmarttapestryhunguponthewalls，representingthecrucifixionofourLordinonepiece，andinanotherasceneofshepherdsandshepherdessesbyarunningstream。Overthechimneywasashieldofarms。
"Willyouseatyourself，"saidtheoldman，"andforgivemeifIleaveyou？Iamaloneinmyhouseto-night，andifyouaretoeatImustforageforyoumyself。"
NosoonerwashishostgonethanVillonleapedfromthechaironwhichhehadjustseatedhimself，andbeganexaminingtheroomwiththestealthandpassionofacat。Heweighedthegoldflagonsinhishand，openedallthefolios，andinvestigatedthearmsupontheshield，andthestuffwithwhichtheseatswerelined。Heraisedthewindowcurtains，andsawthatthewindowsweresetwithrichstainedglassinfigures，sofarashecouldsee，ofmartialimport。Thenhestoodinthemiddleoftheroom，drewalongbreath，andretainingitwithpuffedcheeks，lookedroundandroundhim，turningonhisheels，asiftoimpresseveryfeatureoftheapartmentonhismemory。
"Sevenpiecesofplate，"hesaid。"Iftherehadbeenten，Iwouldhaveriskedit。Afinehouse，andafineoldmaster，sohelpmeallthesaints！"
Andjustthen，hearingtheoldman’streadreturningalongthecorridor，hestolebacktohischair，andbeganhumblytoastinghiswetlegsbeforethecharcoalpan。
Hisentertainerhadaplateofmeatinonehandandajugofwineintheother。Hesetdowntheplateuponthetable，motioningVillontodrawinhischair，andgoingtothesideboard，broughtbacktwogoblets，whichhefilled。
"Idrinkyourbetterfortune，"hesaidgravely，touchingVillon’scupwithhisown。
"Toourbetteracquaintance，"saidthepoet，growingbold。Ameremanofthepeoplewouldhavebeenawedbythecourtesyoftheoldseigneur，butVillonwashardenedinthatmatter;hehadmademirthforgreatlordsbeforenow，andfoundthemasblackrascalsashimself。Andsohedevotedhimselftotheviandswitharavenousgusto，whiletheoldman，leaningbackward，watchedhimwithsteady，curiouseyes。
"Youhavebloodonyourshoulder，myman，"hesaid。
Montignymusthavelaidhiswetrighthanduponhimasheleftthehouse。HecursedMontignyinhisheart。
"Itwasnoneofmyshedding，"hestammered。
"Ihadnotsupposedso，"returnedhishost，quietly。"Abrawl？"
"Well，somethingofthatsort，"Villonadmitted，withaquaver。
"Perhapsafellowmurdered？"
"Ohno，notmurdered，"saidthepoet，moreandmoreconfused。"Itwasallfairplay——murderedbyaccident。Ihadnohandinit，Godstrikemedead！"headded，fervently。
"Oneroguethefewer，Idaresay，"observedthemasterofthehouse。
"Youmaydaretosaythat，"agreedVillon，infinitelyrelieved。"AsbigarogueasthereisbetweenhereandJerusalem。Heturneduphistoeslikealamb。Butitwasanastythingtolookat。Idaresayyou’veseendeadmeninyourtime，mylord？"headded，glancingatthearmour。
"Many，"saidtheoldman。"Ihavefollowedthewars，asyouimagine。"
Villonlaiddownhisknifeandfork，whichhehadjusttakenupagain。
"Wereanyofthembald？"heasked。
"Ohyes，andwithhairaswhiteasmine。"
"Idon’tthinkIshouldmindthewhitesomuch，"saidVillon。"Hiswasred。"Andhehadareturnofhisshudderingandtendencytolaughter，whichhedrownedwithagreatdraughtofwine。"I’malittleputoutwhenIthinkofit，"hewenton。"Iknewhim——damnhim！Andthenthecoldgivesamanfancies——orthefanciesgiveamancold，Idon’tknowwhich。"
"Haveyouanymoney？"askedtheoldman。
"Ihaveonewhite，"returnedthepoet，laughing。"Igotitoutofadeadjade’sstockinginaporch。ShewasasdeadasCaesar，poorwench，andascoldasachurch，withbitsofribbonstickinginherhair。Thisisahardwinterforwolvesandwenchesandpoorrogueslikeme。"
"I，"saidtheoldman，"amEnguerranddelaFeuillee，seigneurdeBrisetout，bailieduPatatrac。Whoandwhatmayyoube？"
Villonroseandmadeasuitablereverence。"IamcalledFrancisVillon，"hesaid，"apoorMasterofArtsofthisuniversity。IknowsomeLatin，andadealofvice。IcanmakeChansons，ballades，lais，virelais，androundels，andIamveryfondofwine。Iwasborninagarret，andIshallnotimprobablydieuponthegallows。Imayadd，mylord，thatfromthisnightforwardIamyourlordship’sveryobsequiousservanttocommand。"
"Noservantofmine，"saidtheknight。"Myguestforthisevening，andnomore。"
"Averygratefulguest，"saidVillon，politely，andhedrankindumbshowtohisentertainer。
"Youareshrewd，"begantheoldman，tappinghisforehead，"veryshrewd;youhavelearning;youareaclerk;andyetyoutakeasmallpieceofmoneyoffadeadwomaninthestreet。Isitnotakindoftheft？"
"Itisakindoftheftmuchpractisedinthewars，mylord。"
"Thewarsarethefieldofhonour，"returnedtheoldman，proudly。
"Thereamanplayshislifeuponthecast;hefightsinthenameofhislordtheking，hisLordGod，andalltheirlordshipstheholysaintsandangels。"
"Putit，"saidVillon，"thatIwerereallyathief，shouldInotplaymylifealso，andagainstheavierodds？"
"Forgain，butnotforhonour。"
"Gain？"repeatedVillon，withashrug。"Gain！Thepoorfellowwantssupper，andtakesit。Sodoesthesoldierinacampaign。Why，whatarealltheserequisitionswehearsomuchabout？Iftheyarenotgaintothosewhotakethem，theyarelossenoughtotheothers。Themen-at-
armsdrinkbyagoodfire，whiletheburgherbiteshisnailstobuythemwineandwood。Ihaveseenagoodmanyploughmenswingingontreesaboutthecountry;ay，Ihaveseenthirtyononeelm，andaverypoorfiguretheymade;andwhenIaskedsomeonehowallthesecametobehanged，Iwastolditwasbecausetheycouldnotscrapetogetherenoughcrownstosatisfythemen-at-arms。"
"Thesethingsareanecessityofwar，whichthelow-bornmustendurewithconstancy。Itistruethatsomecaptainsdriveoverhard;therearespiritsineveryranknoteasilymovedbypity;andindeedmanyfollowarmswhoarenobetterthanbrigands。"
"Yousee，"saidthepoet，"youcannotseparatethesoldierfromthebrigand;andwhatisathiefbutanisolatedbrigandwithcircumspectmanners？Istealacoupleofmutton-chops，withoutsomuchasdisturbingpeople’ssleep;thefarmergrumblesabit，butsupsnonethelesswholesomelyonwhatremains。Youcomeupblowinggloriouslyonatrumpet，takeawaythewholesheep，andbeatthefarmerpitifullyintothebargain。Ihavenotrumpet;IamonlyTom，Dick，orHarry;Iamarogueandadog，andhanging’stoogoodforme——withallmyheart;butjustaskthefarmerwhichofusheprefers，justfindoutwhichofusheliesawaketocurseoncoldnights。"
"Lookatustwo，"saidhislordship。"Iamold，strong，andhonoured。
IfIwereturnedfrommyhouseto-morrow，hundredswouldbeproudtoshelterme。Poorpeoplewouldgooutandpassthenightinthestreetswiththeirchildren，ifImerelyhintedthatIwishedtobealone。AndIfindyouup，wanderinghomeless，andpickingfarthingsoffdeadwomenbythewayside！Ifearnomanandnothing;Ihaveseenyoutrembleandlosecountenanceataword。IwaitGod’ssummonscontentedlyinmyownhouse，or，ifitpleasethekingtocallmeoutagain，uponthefieldofbattle。Youlookforthegallows;arough，swiftdeath，withouthopeorhonour。Istherenodifferencebetweenthesetwo？"
"Asfarastothemoon，"Villonacquiesced。"ButifIhadbeenbornlordofBrisetout，andyouhadbeenthepoorscholarFrancis，wouldthedifferencehavebeenanytheless？ShouldnotIhavebeenwarmingmykneesatthischarcoalpan，andwouldnotyouhavebeengropingforfarthingsinthesnow？ShouldnotIhavebeenthesoldier，andyouthethief？"
"Athief？"criedtheoldman。"Iathief！Ifyouunderstoodyourwords，youwouldrepentthem。"
Villonturnedouthishandswithagestureofinimitableimpudence。"Ifyourlordshiphaddonemethehonourtofollowmyargument！"hesaid。
"Idoyoutoomuchhonourinsubmittingtoyourpresence，"saidtheknight。"Learntocurbyourtonguewhenyouspeakwitholdandhonourablemen，orsomeonehastierthanImayreproveyouinasharperfashion。"Andheroseandpacedthelowerendoftheapartment，strugglingwithangerandantipathy。Villonsurreptitiouslyrefilledhiscup，andsettledhimselfmorecomfortablyinthechair，crossinghiskneesandleaninghisheadupononehandandtheelbowagainstthebackofthechair。Hewasnowrepleteandwarm;andhewasinnowisefrightenedforhishost，havinggaugedhimasjustlyaswaspossiblebetweentwosuchdifferentcharacters。Thenightwasfarspent，andinaverycomfortablefashionafterall;andhefeltmorallycertainofasafedepartureonthemorrow。
"Tellmeonething，"saidtheoldman，pausinginhiswalk。"Areyoureallyathief？"
"Iclaimthesacredrightsofhospitality，"returnedthepoet。"Mylord，Iam。"
"Youareveryyoung，"theknightcontinued。
"Ishouldneverhavebeensoold，"repliedVillon，showinghisfingers，"ifIhadnothelpedmyselfwiththesetentalents。Theyhavebeenmynursingmothersandmynursingfathers。"
"Youmaystillrepentandchange。"
"Irepentdaily，"saidthepoet。"TherearefewpeoplemoregiventorepentancethanpoorFrancis。Asforchange，letsomebodychangemycircumstances。Amanmustcontinuetoeat，ifitwereonlythathemaycontinuetorepent。"
"Thechangemustbeginintheheart，"returnedtheoldman，solemnly。
"Mydearlord，"answeredVillon，"doyoureallyfancythatIstealforpleasure？Ihatestealing，likeanyotherpieceofworkorofdanger。
MyteethchatterwhenIseeagallows。ButImusteat，Imustdrink;I
mustmixinsocietyofsomesort。Whatthedevil！Manisnotasolitaryanimal——/cuiDeusfoeminamtradit/。Makemeking’spantler，makemeAbbotofSt。Denis，makemebailieofthePatatrac，andthenIshallbechangedindeed。ButaslongasyouleavemethepoorscholarFrancisVillon，withoutafarthing，why，ofcourse，Iremainthesame。"
"ThegraceofGodisallpowerful。"
"Ishouldbeaheretictoquestionit，"saidFrancis。"IthasmadeyoulordofBrisetoutandbailieofthePatatrac;ithasgivenmenothingbutthequickwitsundermyhatandthesetentoesuponmyhands。MayI
helpmyselftowine？Ithankyourespectfully。ByGod’sgrace，youhaveaverysuperiorvintage。"
ThelordofBrisetoutwalkedtoandfrowithhishandsbehindhisback。
Perhapshewasnotyetquitesettledinhismindabouttheparallelbetweenthievesandsoldiers;perhapsVillonhadinterestedhimbysomecross-threadofsympathy;perhapshiswitsweresimplymuddledbysomuchunfamiliarreasoning;butwhateverthecause，hesomehowyearnedtoconverttheyoungmantoabetterwayofthinking，andcouldnotmakeuphismindtodrivehimforthagainintothestreet。
"ThereissomethingmorethanIcanunderstandinthis，"hesaidatlength。"Yourmouthisfullofsubtleties，andthedevilhasledyouveryfarastray;butthedevilisonlyaveryweakspiritbeforeGod’struth，andallhissubtletiesvanishatawordoftruehonour，likedarknessatmorning。Listentomeoncemore。IlearnedlongagothatagentlemanshouldlivechivalrouslyandlovinglytoGodandthekingandhislady;andthoughIhaveseenmanystrangethingsdone，Ihavestillstriventocommandmywaysuponthatrule。Itisnotonlywritteninallnoblehistories，butineveryman’sheart，ifhewilltakecaretoread。Youspeakoffoodandwine，andIknowverywellthathungerisadifficulttrialtoendure;butyoudonotspeakofotherwants;yousaynothingofhonour，offaithtoGodandothermen，ofcourtesy，oflovewithoutreproach。ItmaybethatIamnotverywise，——andyetIthinkI
am，——butyouseemtomelikeonewhohaslosthiswayandmadeagreaterrorinlife。Youareattendingtothelittlewants，andyouhavetotallyforgottenthegreatandonlyrealones，likeamanwhoshouldbedoctoringtoothacheonthejudgmentday。Forsuchthingsashonourandloveandfaitharenotonlynoblerthanfoodanddrink，butindeedIthinkwedesirethemmore，andsuffermoresharplyfortheirabsence。
IspeaktoyouasIthinkyouwillmosteasilyunderstandme。Areyounot，whilecarefultofillyourbelly，disregardinganotherappetiteinyourheart，whichspoilsthepleasureofyourlifeandkeepsyoucontinuallywretched？"
Villonwassensiblynettledunderallthissermonising。"YouthinkI
havenosenseofhonour！"hecried。"I’mpoorenough，Godknows！It’shardtoseerichpeoplewiththeirgloves，andyoublowinginyourhands。Anemptybellyisabitterthing，althoughyouspeaksolightlyofit。IfyouhadhadasmanyasI，perhapsyouwouldchangeyourtune。
Anyway，I’mathief，——makethemostofthat，——butI’mnotadevilfromhell，Godstrikemedead！IwouldhaveyoutoknowI’veanhonourofmyown，asgoodasyours，thoughIdon’tprateaboutitalldaylong，asifitwasaGod’smiracletohaveany。Itseemsquitenaturaltome;I
keepitinitsboxtillit’swanted。Why，now，lookyouhere，howlonghaveIbeeninthisroomwithyou？Didyounottellmeyouwerealoneinthehouse？Lookatyourgoldplate！You’restrong，ifyoulike，butyou’reoldandunarmed，andIhavemyknife。WhatdidIwantbutajerkoftheelbowandherewouldhavebeenyouwiththecoldsteelinyourbowels，andtherewouldhavebeenme，linkinginthestreets，withanarmfulofgoldencups！DidyousupposeIhadn’twitenoughtoseethat？
andIscornedtheaction。Thereareyourdamnedgoblets，assafeasinachurch;thereareyou，withyourhearttickingasgoodasnew;andhereamI，readytogooutagainaspoorasIcamein，withmyonewhitethatyouthrewinmyteeth！AndyouthinkIhavenosenseofhonour——Godstrikemedead！"
Theoldmanstretchedouthisrightarm。"Iwilltellyouwhatyouare，"hesaid。"Youarearogue，myman，animpudentandblack-heartedrogueandvagabond。Ihavepassedanhourwithyou。Oh，believeme，I
feelmyselfdisgraced！Andyouhaveeatenanddrunkatmytable。ButnowIamsickatyourpresence;thedayhascome，andthenight-birdshouldbeofftohisroost。Willyougobefore，orafter？"
"Whichyouplease，"returnedthepoet，rising。"Ibelieveyoutobestrictlyhonourable。"Hethoughtfullyemptiedhiscup。"IwishIcouldaddyouwereintelligent，"hewenton，knockingonhisheadwithhisknuckles。"Age！age！thebrainsstiffandrheumatic。"
Theoldmanprecededhimfromapointofself-respect;Villonfollowed，whistling，withhisthumbsinhisgirdle。
"Godpityyou，"saidthelordofBrisetoutatthedoor。
"Good-bye，papa，"returnedVillon，withayawn。"Manythanksforthecoldmutton。"
Thedoorclosedbehindhim。Thedawnwasbreakingoverthewhiteroofs。
Achill，uncomfortablemorningusheredintheday。Villonstoodandheartilystretchedhimselfinthemiddleoftheroad。
"Averydulloldgentleman，"hethought。"Iwonderwhathisgobletsmaybeworth？"
ALEAFINTHESTORM
BY
OUIDA
TheBerceaudeDieuwasalittlevillageinthevalleyoftheSeine。Asalarkdropsitsnestamongthegrasses，soafewpeasantpeoplehaddroppedtheirlittlefarmsandcottagesamidthegreatgreenwoodsonthewindingriver。Itwasaprettyplace，withonesteep，stonystreet，shadywithpoplarsandwithelms;quainthouses，aboutwhosethatchacloudofwhiteandgraypigeonsflutteredalldaylong;alittleagedchapelwithaconicalredroof;andgreatbarnscoveredwithivyandthickcreepers，redandpurple，andlichensthatwereyellowinthesun。Allarounditwerethebroad，floweringmeadows，withthesleekcattleofNormandyfatteninginthem，andthesweetdimforestswheretheyoungmenandmaidenswentoneveryholydayandfeast-dayinthesummer-timetoseekforwood-anemones，andliliesofthepools，andthewildcampanula，andthefreshdog-rose，andalltheboughsandgrassesthatmadetheirhouse-doorslikegardenbowers，andseemedtotakethecushat’snoteandthelinnet’ssongintotheirlittletempleofGod。
TheBerceaudeDieuwasveryoldindeed。MensaidthatthehamlethadbeenthereinthedayoftheVirginofOrleans;andastonecrossofthetwelfthcenturystillstoodbythegreatpondofwateratthebottomofthestreetunderthechestnut-tree，wherethevillagersgatheredtogossipatsunsetwhentheirworkwasdone。Ithadnocitynearit，andnotownnearerthanfourleagues。Itwasinthegreencareofapastoraldistrict，thicklywoodedandintersectedwithorchards。
Itsproduceofwheatandoatsandcheeseandfruitandeggswasmorethansufficientforitssimpleprosperity。Itspeoplewerehardy，kindly，laborious，happy;livingroundthelittlegraychapelinamityandgood-fellowship。Nothingtroubledit。Warandrumoursofwar，revolutionsandcounter-revolutions，empiresandinsurrections，militaryandpoliticalquestions——theseallwereforitthingsunknownandunheardof，mightywindsthataroseandblewandsweptthelandsaroundit，butnevercamenearenoughtoharmit，lyingthere，asitdidinitslonelinesslikeanylark’snest。EveninthegreatdaysoftheRevolutionithadbeenquiet。Ithadhadalordwhomitlovedintheoldcastleonthehillatwhosefeetitnestled;ithadnevertriedtoharmhim，andithadweptbitterlywhenhehadfallenatJemmapes，andleftnoheir，andthechateauhadcrumbledintoivy-hungruins。Thethunder-heatsofthatdreadtimehadscarcelyscorchedit。IthadseenafewofitsbestyouthmarchawaytothechantoftheMarseillaisetofightontheplainsofChampagne;andithadbeenvisitedbysomepatriotsin/bonnetsrouges/andsoldiersinblueuniforms，whohadgivenittricolouredcockadesandbadeitwearthemintheholynameoftheRepubliconeandindivisible。Butithadnotknownwhatthesemeant，anditsharvestshadbeenreapedwithoutthesoundofashotinitsfieldsoranygleamofsteelbyitsinnocenthearths;sothattheterrorsandthetidingsofthosenobleandghastlyyearshadleftnoimpressonitsgenerations。
ReineAllix，indeed，theoldestwomanamongthemall，numberingmorethanninetyyears，rememberedwhenshewasachildhearingherfatherandhisneighbourstalkinlow，awe-strickentonesonebitterwintrynightofhowakinghadbeenslaintosavethepeople;andsherememberedlikewise——remembereditwell，becauseithadbeenherbetrothalnightandthesixteenthbirthdayofherlife——howahorsemanhadflashedthroughthestartledstreetlikeacomet，andhadcalledaloud，inavoiceoffire，"/Gloire！gloire！gloire！/——Marengo！
Marengo！Marengo！"andhowthevillagehaddimlyunderstoodthatsomethingmarvellousforFrancehadhappenedafaroff，andhowherbrothersandhercousinsandherbetrothed，andshewiththem，hadallgoneuptothehighslopeovertheriver，andhadpiledupagreatpyramidofpinewoodandstrawanddriedmosses，andhadsetflametoit，tillithadglowedinitsscarlettriumphallthroughthatwondrousnightofthesultrysummerofvictory。
Theseandthelikememoriesshewouldsometimesrelatetothechildrenateveningwhentheygatheredroundherbeggingforastory。Otherwise，nomemoriesoftheRevolutionortheEmpiredisturbedthetranquilityoftheBerceau;andevenshe，aftershehadtoldthem，wouldadd，"IamnotsurenowwhatMarengowas。Abattle，nodoubt，butIamnotsurewherenorwhy。ButweheardlaterthatlittleClaudis，myaunt’syoungest-born，avolunteernotnineteen，diedatit。Ifwehadknown，weshouldnothavegoneupandlitthebonfire。"
Thiswoman，whohadbeenborninthattimeoffamineandflame，wasthehappiestcreatureinthewholehamletoftheBerceau。"Iamold;yes，I
amveryold，"shewouldsay，lookingupfromherspinning-wheelinherhouse-door，andshadinghereyesfromthesun，"veryold——ninety-twolastsummer。Butwhenonehasaroofoverone’shead，andapotofsoupalways，andagrandsonlikemine，andwhenonehaslivedallone’slifeintheBerceaudeDieu，thenitiswelltobesoold。Ah，yes，mylittleones，——yes，thoughyoudoubtit，youlittlebirdsthathavejusttriedyourwings，——itiswelltobesoold。Onehastimetothink，andthankthegoodGod，whichoneneverseemedtohaveaminutetodointhatwork，work，workwhenonewasyoung。"
ReineAllixwasatallandstrongwoman，verywitheredandverybentandverybrown，yetwithsweet，dark，flashingeyesthathadstilllightinthem，andafacethatwasstillnoble，thoughnearlyacenturyhadbronzeditwithitsharvestsunsandblownonitwithitswinterwinds。
Sheworealwaysthesamegarbofhomelydark-blueserge，alwaysthesametallwhitehead-gear，alwaysthesamepuresilverear-ringsthathadbeenatonceanheirloomandanuptialgift。Shewasalwaysshodinherwoodensabots，andshealwayswalkedabroadwithastaffofash。
ShehadbeenbornintheBerceaudeDieu;hadlivedthereandweddedthere;hadtoiledthereallherlife，andneverleftitforagreaterdistancethanaleague，orforalongertimethanaday。Sheloveditwithanintenselove。Theworldbeyonditwasnothingtoher;shescarcelybelievedinitasexisting。Shecouldneitherreadnorwrite。
Shetoldthetruth，rearedheroffspringinhonesty，andpraisedGodalways——hadpraisedHimwhenstarvinginabitterwinterafterherhusband’sdeath，whentherehadbeennofieldwork，andshehadhadfivechildrentofeedandclothe;andpraisedHimnowthathersonswerealldeadbeforeher，andallshehadlivingofherbloodwashergrandsonBernadou。
Herlifehadbeenahardone。Herparentshadbeenhideouslypoor。Hermarriagehadscarcelybetteredhercondition。Shehadlabouredinthefieldsalways，hoeingandweedingandreapingandcarryingwoodanddrivingmules，andcontinuallyrisingwiththefirststreakofdaybreak。Shehadknownfeverandfamineandallmannerofearthlyills。Butnowinheroldageshehadpeace。Twoofherdeadsons，whohadsoughttheirfortunesintheotherhemisphere，hadleftheralittlemoney，andshehadalittlecottageandaplotofground，andapig，andasmallorchard。Shewaswell-to-do，andcouldleaveitalltoBernadou;andfortenyearsshehadbeenhappy，perfectlyhappy，inthecoolnessandthesweetnessandtheoldfamiliarwaysandhabitsoftheBerceau。
Bernadouwasverygoodtoher。Thelad，asshecalledhim，wasfiveandtwentyyearsold，tallandstraightandclean-limbed，withtheblueeyesoftheNorth，andagentle，frankface。Heworkedearlyandlateintheplotofgroundthatgavehimhislivelihood。Helivedwithhisgrandmother，andtendedherwithagraciouscourtesyandvenerationthatneveraltered。Hewasnotverywise;healsocouldneitherreadnorwrite;hebelievedinhispriestandhishomestead，andlovedthegroundthathehadtroddeneversincehisfirststepsfromthecradlehadbeenguidedbyReineAllix。Hehadneverbeendrawnfortheconscription，becausehewastheonlysupportofawomanofninety;helikewisehadneverbeenhalfadozenkilometresfromhisbirthplace。
Whenhewasbiddentovote，andheaskedwhathisvoteofassentwouldpledgehimtodo，theytoldhim，"Itwillbindyoutohonouryourgrandmothersolongassheshalllive，andtogetupwiththelark，andtogotomasseverySunday，andtobealoyalsontoyourcountry。
Nothingmore。"Andthereathehadsmiledandstraightenedhisstalwartframe，andgonerightwillinglytothevoting-urn。
Hewasverystupidinthesethings;andReineAllix，thoughclear-
headedandshrewd，washardlymorelearnedinthemthanhe。
"Lookyou，"shehadsaidtohimoftentimes，"inmybabyhoodtherewastheoldwhiteflaguponthechateau。Well，theypulledthatdownandputuparedone。Thattoppledandfell，andtherewasoneofthreecolours。Thensomebodywithaknotofwhiteliliesinhishandcameonedayandsetuptheoldwhiteoneafresh;andbeforethedaywasdonethatwasdownagainandthetricolouragainupwhereitis。Now，someI
knowfrettedthemselvesgreatlybecauseofallthesechangesoftheflags;butasforme，Icouldnotseethatanyoneofthemmattered：
breadwasjustasdearandsleepwasjustassweetwhicheverofthethreewasuppermost。"
Bernadou，whohadneverknownbuttheflagofthreecolours，believedher，asindeedhebelievedeverywordthatthosekindlyandresoluteoldlipseverutteredtohim。
Hehadneverbeeninacity，andonlyonce，onthedayofhisfirstcommunion，inthetownfourleaguesaway。Heknewnothingmorethanthissimple，cleanly，honestlifethatheled。Withwhatmendidoutsidehislittleworldofmeadow-landandwoodlandhehadnocarenoranyconcern。OnceamanhadcomethroughthevillageoftheBerceau，atravellinghawkerofcheapprints，——amanwithawildeyeandarestlessbrain，——whotoldBernadouthathewasadowntroddenslave，aclod，abeastlikeamule，whofetchedandcarriedthattherichmightfatten，adolt，anidiot，whocarednothingfortherightsofmanandthewrongsofthepoor。Bernadouhadlistenedwithaperplexedface;
thenwithasmile，thathadcleareditlikesunlight，hehadanswered，inhiscountrydialect，"Idonotknowofwhatyouspeak。Rights？
Wrongs？Icannottell，ButIhaveneverownedasou;Ihavenevertoldalie;Iamstrongenoughtoholdmyownwithanymanthatfloutsme;
andIamcontentwhereIam。Thatisenoughforme。"
Thepeddlerhadcalledhimapoor-spiritedbeastofburden，buthadsaidsooutofreachofhisarm，andbynighthadslunkawayfromtheBerceaudeDieu，andhadbeennomoreseentheretovexthequietcontentmentofitspeacefulandpeace-lovingways。
Atnight，indeed，sometimes，thelittlewine-shopofthevillagewouldbefrequentedbysomehalf-dozenofthepeasantproprietorsoftheplace，whotalkedcommunismaftertheirmanner，notaveryclearone，inexcitedtonesandwiththefeverishglancesofconspirators。Butitmeantlittle，andcametoless。Theweatherandthepriceofwheatweredearermatterstothem;andintheendtheyusuallydranktheirredwineinamity，andwentupthevillagestreetarminarm，singingpatrioticsongsuntiltheirangrywivesflungopentheirlatticesandthrusttheirwhitehead-gearoutintothemoonlight，andcalledtothemshrewishlytogettobedandnotmakefoolsofthemselvesinthatfashion;whichusuallysilencedandsoberedthemallinstantly;sothattherevolutionsoftheBerceaudeDieu，ifnotquenchedinawine-pot，werealwayssmotheredinanightcap，andneverbyanychancedisturbeditsrepose。
ButofthesenoisypatriotsBernadouwasneverone。HehadtheinstinctiveconservatismoftheFrenchpeasant，whichisinsuchdirectandtoughantagonismwiththefeverishsocialismoftheFrenchartisan。
Hislovewasforthesoil——alovedeep-rootedastheoaksthatgrewinit。OfParishehadadim，vaguedread，asofasuperbbeastcontinuallydraininganddevouring。Ofallformsofgovernmenthewasalikeignorant。Solongashetilledhislittleangleoflandinpeace，solongasthesunripenedhisfruitsandcorn，solongasfaminewasawayfromhisdoorandhisneighboursdweltingood-fellowshipwithhim，solonghewashappy，andcarednotwhetherhewasthushappyunderamonarchy，anempire，orarepublic。Thiswisdom，whichthepeddlercalledapathyandcursed，theyoungmanhadimbibedfromnatureandtheteachingsofReineAllix。"Lookathomeandmindthyword，"shehadsaidalwaystohim。"Itislabourenoughforamantokeephisownlifecleanandhisownhandshonest。BenotthouatanytimeastheyarewhoareforevertellingthegoodGodhowHemighthavemadetheworldonabetterplan，whiletheratsgnawattheirhay-stacksandthechildrencryoveranemptyplatter。"
Andhehadtakenheedtoherwords，sothatinallthecountry-sidetherewasnotanyladtruer，gentler，braver，ormorepatientatlabourthanwasBernadou;andthoughsomethoughthimmildeventofoolishness，andmeekeventostupidity，hewasnofool;andhehadacertainroughskillatmusic，andararegiftatthecultureofplants，andmadehislittlehomebrightwithinthewinter-timewithmelody，andinthesummergaywithoutasaking’sparterre。
Atanyrate，ReineAllixandhehadbeenhappytogetherforaquarterofacenturyundertheoldgraythatchofthewaysidecottage，whereitstoodatthefootofthevillagestreet，withitsgreatsycamoresspreadaboveit。Norweretheylesshappywheninmid-April，inthesixandtwentiethyearofhisage，Bernadouhadcomeinwithabunchofprimrosesinhishand，andhadbentdowntoherandsalutedherwitharespectfultenderness，andsaidsoftlyandalittleshyly，"/Gran’mere/，woulditsuityouifIwereever——tomarry？"
ReineAllixwassilentaminuteandmore，cherishingtheprimrosesandplacingtheminalittlebrowncupfulofwater。Thenshelookedathimsteadilywithherclear，darkeyes。"Whoisit，mychild？"Hewasalwaysachildtoher，thislast-bornofthenumerousbroodthathadoncedweltwithherunderthespreadingbranchesofthesycamores，andhadnowallperishedoffthefaceoftheearth，leavinghimselfandheralone。
Bernadou’seyesmethersfrankly。"ItisMargotDal。Doesthatpleaseyou，/gran’mere/，orno？"
"Itpleasesmewell，"shesaid，simply。Buttherewasalittlequiveraboutherfirm-setmouth，andheragedheadwasbentovertheprimroses。Shehadforeseenit;shewasgladofit;andyetfortheinstantitwasapangtoher。
"Iamverythankful，"saidBernadou，withaflashofjoyonhisface。
Hewasindependentofhisgrandmother;hecouldmakeenoughtomarryuponbyhisdailytoil，andhehadalittlestoreofgoldandsilverinhisbankinthethatch，putbyforarainyday;buthewouldhavenomorethoughtofgoingagainstherwillthanhewouldhavethoughtofliftinghishandagainsther。IntheprimitivehomesteadsoftheBerceaudeDieufilialreverencewasstillaccountedthefirstofvirtues，yetthesimplestandthemostimperative。
"IwillgoseeMargotthisevening，"saidReineAllix，afteralittlepause。"Sheisagoodgirlandabrave，andofpureheartandfairname。Youhavechosenwell，mygrandson。"
Bernadoustoopedhistall，fair，curlyhead，andshelaidherhandsonhimandblessedhim。
Thatevening，asthesunset，ReineAllixkeptherword，andwenttotheyoungmaidenwhohadalluredtheeyesandheartofBernadou。Margotwasanorphan;shehadnotapennytoherdower;shehadbeenbroughtuponcharity，andshedweltnowinthefamilyofthelargestlandowneroftheplace，amillerwithnumerousoffspring，andseveralheadofcattle，andmanystretchesofpastureandoforchard。Margotworkedforahardmaster，livingindeedasoneofthefamily，butsharplydrivenalldaylongatallmannerofhouseworkandfieldwork。ReineAllixhadkeptherglanceonher，throughsomeinstinctivesenseofthewaythatBernadou’sthoughtswereturning，andshehadseenmuchtopraise，nothingtochide，intheyounggirl’smodest，industrious，cheerful，uncomplaininglife。Margotwasverypretty，too，withthebrownovalfaceandthegreatblacksofteyesandthebeautifulformoftheSouthernbloodthathadrunintheveinsofherfather，whohadbeenasailorofMarseilles，whilehermotherhadbeenanativeoftheProvencalcountry。Altogether，ReineAllixknewthatherbelovedonecouldnothavedonebetterormorewisely，ifchooseatallhemust。
"Somepeople，indeed，"shesaidtoherselfassheclimbedthestreetwhosesharp-setflintshadbeentroddenbyherwoodenshoesforninetyyears——"Somepeoplewouldmournandscoldbecausethereisnostoreoflinen，nopieceofsilverplate，nolittleroundsuminmoneywiththepoorchild。Butwhatdoesitmatter？Wehaveenoughforthree。Itiswickedindeedforparentstolivesothattheyleavetheirdaughterportionless，butitisnofaultofthechild’s。Letthemsaywhattheylike，itisareasonthemorethatsheshouldwantaroofoverherheadandahusbandtocareforhergood。"
Sosheclimbedthesteepwayandtheslantingroadroundthehill，andwentinbythedoorofthemill-house，andfoundMargotbusyinwashingsomespringlettucesandothergreenthingsinabowlofbrightwater。
ReineAllix，inthefashionofhercountryandherbreeding，wasabouttoconferwiththemasterandmistresseresayingawordtothegirl，buttherewasthatinMargot’sfaceandinhertimidgreetingthatluredspeechoutofher。Shelookedlongandkeenlyintothechild’sdowncastcountenance，thentouchedherwithatendersmile。"PetiteMargot，thebirdstoldmealittlesecretto-day。Canstguesswhatitis？Say？"
Margotcolouredandthengrewpale。True，Bernadouhadneverreallyspokentoher，butstill，whenoneisseventeen，andhasdancedafewtimeswiththesameperson，andhaspluckedtheleavesofadaisyawaytolearnone’sfortune，spokenwordsarenotverymuchwanted。