Jacques Bonneval Part 10

"Adieu, madame; mille remerciments."

I thought of St. Paul in the basket, and the two Israelitish spies.

La Croissette eased my descent a good deal, by steadying the basket, and helped me out of it to our mutual satisfaction. It was then swiftly drawn up, and taken in.

"Thank heaven, we are safe!" said I. "That was very cleverly managed."

"Do you suppose it the first time?" said La Croissette. "Far from it, I can tell you. Many things are done in Nismes that the authorities know nothing of, for all their vigilance. Now we are fairly outside the city, and, with ordinary good luck, shall perform our night-journey in safety."

"With G.o.d's blessing we may," said I.

"Make that proviso with all my heart," said La Croissette. "some trust in Providence and some in luck. I have nothing to say against either.

Now get into the cart."

He led the horse a little out of the shadow as he spoke, and helped me inside the little house on wheels, where I found a mattress that proved a most acceptable rest; and then we drove slowly and quietly off, and gradually got among fields and hedges.

"How are you getting on?" said La Croissette, at length. "Do you mind the shaking?"

"Oh," said I, "I have so many things on my mind that I take no thought for the body."

"All the better; though some say that pain of the mind is the worst to bear of the two."

"I have little doubt of it," said I, "though each are bad enough. But all I meant was that my mind is preoccupied and anxious, and prevents my noticing any mere discomforts; for I cannot say I am miserable."

"Indeed I think you ought not to be, for you have had an escape from that troubled city that many would rejoice at."

"Tell me truly; do you think I have actually escaped?"

"What know I? You have escaped from the evils behind; you may not escape from the evils before. Yesterday was cloudy, to-morrow may be rainy, the day after may be fine; none of us knows. At least there is a weather-prophet at Arles whom some of the fools believe in; but he broke his leg a little while ago, and his spirit of prophecy did not enable him to foresee that, therefore I doubt his knowing about the weather."

"There have always been those who dealt in lying signs and wonders,"

said I, "from the days of Moses, when the magicians feigned to change their rods into serpents, which of course they could not do really."

"They were clever at sleight-of-hand, I suppose," said La Croissette.

"So is Doctor Jameray. He can do many wonderful things. I can do some of them myself. You see, some of his conjuring tricks require a second person, who must not be known for his a.s.sistant; so that when he sets out on his tours through the provinces, I generally do the same, and contrive to cross his path, as if by accident. Then we play off on a new set of people the tricks we have played twenty times before in other places."

"Then needle-selling is only a blind?" said I.

"I turn a little money by it; the more, that I am careful always to sell the best needles and pins. Thus I have acquired a name--the housewives trust me; I have a character to support. And my character supports me."

"A good character always does so in the long run," said I.

"Well, I don't know what to say about that. You are too young to have any authority of weight. It must be your father's wisdom, and I am not sure it will stand the test."

"I feel sure of it," said I.

'What, when you are this very moment a houseless wanderer, without having done any wrong? How does your good character support you now?"

"For example, it has secured me your good offices," said I. "You would not have given me this good turn if I had been a worthless villain."

"Well, perhaps not; supposing I had known you for such--though worthless villains often escape deserved punishment, and sometimes are very plausible, and pay very well. And sometimes not"--reflectively.

"You seem to remember a case in point," said I, smiling.

"Well, I do," said La Croissette. "There was a young lord who led a sad course, and nearly fell into the hands of justice. He had a das.h.i.+ng, off-hand manner, that made friends till he was found out for what he was; and partly because he talked me over, and partly for high pay, I smuggled him beyond the reach of his enemies. But the pay never came.

He won't get me to help him another time."

"He'll miss the want of a good character in the long run, then," said I.

"Oh, he has done so already; he lies in prison now. But so do many of you Huguenots, who have done nothing amiss. It seems to me there is one event to the good and to the wicked."

"Oh no, do not believe it," said I. "In the first place, none of us are righteous; no, not one; our merits only comparative. Thus, there is something in every one of us to punish; and sometimes the Lord sees fit to chasten His best-loved servants so severely, that it is difficult to distinguish their chastis.e.m.e.nt from His judgments on the wicked."

"That comes to what I was saying," said La Croissette; "that there is but one event to the good and to the bad."

"It seems so, though it is not so," said I. "But don't you perceive in this a grand argument in favor of a future life?"

"I am no scholar, I;--you must explain it to me," said La Croissette.

"If the Lord lets his dear children fall into the same afflictions here as the rebellious and impenitent, it is because He knows that in the long run, it will be to their advantage rather than otherwise: that they will turn their trials to such good account as actually to be the better for them; and that their light affliction, which is but for a moment, will work for them a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.

So that hereafter they shall look back on their present pains, not only with indifference but with thankfulness. But ah! where shall then the unrighteous and sinner appear?"

"You seem to have a natural gift for preaching," said La Croissette, after a pause. "Where will they appear, say you? Why, if our priests are to be believed, those of them, even the very worst, who have money enough to pay for ma.s.ses and indulgences, may buy themselves off from purgatory, and s.h.i.+ne in glory with the best."

"Does not that carry incredibility and absurdity on the very face of it?"

"It seems very hard on the poor man who can't buy himself off," said La Croissette. "You Huguenots, then, don't believe in it?"

"Most a.s.suredly not. G.o.d accepts no prayers that do not spring from a lowly and contrite heart: and they may be offered by a poor man as well as a rich one."

"But does not a poor man's soul require those purgatorial fires?"

"Oh no, my dear La Croissette! The Son of G.o.d told of no purgatory--only of heaven and h.e.l.l. And He was so truthful that He would not have told of a h.e.l.l if there had not been one--nor have failed to tell of a purgatory if there had been one. The end would not have been commensurate with the means, had He laid down his life to save us from anything short of condign punishment, or to save us only incompletely.

If there were a purgatory to endure at any rate, where would be the all-sufficiency of his sacrifice once offered?"

He bade us believe in him and be saved. He did not say, 'believe also in my mother, and my brethren, and my apostles, and ask them to ask me to save you.' He said, 'Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'"

"No! did he, though?" said La Croissette, suddenly checking his horse.

At the same moment, a woman sprang from the hedge and laid her hand on the shaft, saying:

"Good sir, save us! we peris.h.!.+"

"What is the matter?" said he, starting.

"We are fugitives from Nismes; we were beaten, we were burnt, we were pillaged."

"My poor good woman, there are numbers in like case."

"But we starve," said she, bursting into tears. "My aged mother and my little ones."