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HIGH-WAYS AND BY-WAYS;

OR

TALES OF THE ROADSIDE:

PICKED UP IN THE FRENCH PROVINCES,

BY

A WALKING GENTLEMAN.

«« T hate the man who can travel from Dan to Beersheba, and
say ’Tis all barren !” Sterne.

FOURTH EDITION.

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.

LONDON :

PRINTED FOR G. AND W. B. WHITTAKER,
AVE-MARIA=LANE.

1824.

Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2010 with funding from
University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

http://www.archive.org/details/highwaysbywaysor02gr

THE

BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

“ L’Enfant vint au monde, sans crier ni pleurer.”
De PEREFIXE.

VOL. II. B

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THE

BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

THERE is not in nature a finer spectacle than
a distant chain of mountains, covered with snow
and glistening in the sun. It is impossible to
describe this appearance, nor is it easy to define
the sensations it produces in the mind. The
object has in it something loftier than beauty,
and possesses a softened sublimity totally un-
associated with fear. Unlike other vast works
of nature, it does not speak to our apprehensions,
nor does it, like those of art, bring humiliating
notions of imperfection and decay: but stretch-
ing far away along the horizon, in celestial
splendour of colouring, it looks like the boun-
dary of the world, and might be believed a fit-
ting resting-place between earth and heaven.

Such were my reflections when I first dis-
covered the Pyrenees, at about thirty leagues

BQ

~~

4 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

distance, from the rising grounds near the town
of Villeneuve de Marsan. I shall never forget
that moment. My delight was of a kind to be
felt but once in life, but which stamped an im-
pression, vivid in proportion to its suddenness,
and more lasting than that produced by years of
calm and regulated enjoyment. In gazing on
the golden transparency which the mountains
seemed to present, I fancied myself transported
to some scene of fairy-land, and doubted for a
while their existence. ‘They looked more like
the cloud-formed imagery of the skies, and I
many a time regretted, as I approached them,
the illusion which their solid reality put to flight.

Kvery league which brought me nearer lessened
the enchantment, but added to the romance of
the scene. ‘The visionary and fairy-like aspect
gradually dissolved, as the charms of nature were
growing into life, and as the actual beauties of
existence appeared to force their way through
the veil of radiance by which they had been
covered. Step by step, the mountains rose into
height and majesty. Dark green masses became
evident, instead of the glittering heaps of snow

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 5

which I had seen at first. Woods, rocks, and
streams, made themselves next distinguished, in
all their variety of shade and form; and in three
days, from that on which these magnificent hills
were first visible to me, I reposed at their base,
impressed with the fullest sense of their mighti-
ness and my own insignificance.

It is not for me to describe the beauties of
these mountains. Volumes have been poured
forth on the subject, and will be succeeded by
volumes, as long as the noblest scenes of nature
can excite admiration, or until some miracle robs
men of their desire to tell what they have seen,
and express what they feel. ‘Those scenes are
certainly the region for composition. 'Wander-
ing in their wild and exquisite paths, carried
beyond the world’s realities, absorbed in con-
templation, and given up to the abandonment
of fancy, the mind willingly indulges its over-
flowings, and cares not whether they take the
form of poetry or prose. Indeed the productions
of such moments must partake of the nature of
both ; and it was in one of those silent, seques-
tered, castle-building moods, that the following

6 THE RIRTH OF HENRY Iv.

lines forced themselves into uncalled-for utter-
ance:

These are the scenes where nature strews
Our way with wonders ;—where we lose
Thought’s measured march for countless hours ;
When stretch’d beneath embranching bowers,
Deep in the lap of some soft vale,
Our languid minds its sweets inhale ;
Or wandering on some streamlet’s brink,
We love to stop—to gaze—to think !
Then Fancy peoples the broad glades
With groups of early friendship’s shades—
Changes the greenwood’s sloping dell

To life’s young play-scenes loved so well—
Hears in the far sequester’d spot
Sounds hush’d, but ne’er to be forgot—
Clothes nature in a robe more bright—
Fills heaven with youth’s empurpled light—
Casts o’er the coarse weeds’ drooping fringe
A shapelier grace, and lovelier tinge—
While memory bends, as prone to lave
Its feverish flushings in the wave.

But the quick mind, with forward rush,
Bold as the mountain-torrent’s gush,
Springs from the thoughts of former years,
From faded hopes, from fruitless tears,
And bounding onwards, far and free,
Deserts dull fact for joys to be.

Then leap to life, in fairy train,

Those fond illusions of the brain ;

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

Those shadowy structures that we raise
To hoard the bliss of unborn days !
Those lights from hope’s ethereal beam,
Which sparkling through each treacherous dream,
Seem the false fabrics to enfold,

Like clouds by sunbeams bathed in gold.
Lightly the floating fictions rise,

As desert cheateries on the skies,

Till shatter’d by some thought of care,
The loosen’d fragments melt in air ;
And worldly waters back reflect

The visionary architect !

And there are heaven-revealing times
Which reason’s radiant flame sublimes ;
When nobler views the heart inspire,

And faith lights high her beacon fire,

The clay-clogg’d powers of thought to guide
Across the waves of passion’s tide.
Moments, when earth’s rude hum is still,
And higher raptures lead the will ;

When on the topmost mountain’s breast
We lay our length, and all is rest:

Deep, deep beneath the plains are spread—
But motion slumbering seems, or dead.

To our far gaze the world below

Stands fix’d and silent: even the flow

Of the live rivers seems to cease,

And the eye marks their winding trace
But as a line of liquid light,

Noiseless, and motionless, and bright.

THE BIRTH OF HENRY Iv.

A soothing softness gathers round:
The wind sleeps stilly on its couch
Of fragrant wild-flowers ; while no sound
The drowsy senses comes to touch,
Nor wakes the seraph calm that steals
Across the soul, whose trance reveals
Scenes of high heaven, no longer hid
From the full eye—each half-closed lid
Shuts out all earth ; and only sees
On the broad ocean of the air,
Slow sailing onwards, though no breeze
Is felt which could have borne them there,
A tide of white, self-wafted clouds
Come rolling on like snow-wreathed floods,
And round the summit of the peak
In shatter’d splendour softly break.
But soon the fleecy fragments join’d,
Float on their course, yet leave behind
One lovely, vapoury shade, that seems
To hover lingering slowly nigh,
As if upheld by those bright beams,
Whose radiance lights it through the sky ;
And o’er its breast such colouring flings
As fancy gives to angels’ wings.
Oh! who such shadowy couch could mark,
Nor wish, nor hope life’s deathless spark
In disembodied splendour spread,
Like light on this aérial bed ;
And borne, beyond the beams of day,
On ray-form’d pinions far away
To the pure realms, for which we sigh
In pride of immortality !

THE BIRTH OF HENRY Iv. 9

But in all the varieties of the Pyrenees, their
pics, valleys, rivers, and grottos, there is no part
which conveys such a combination of rational
delights as the ancient province of Bearn, the
country of Henry IV. Natural beauties are
every where scattered with a hand at once so
liberal and just, that it is hard to particularize
the parts most deserving of notice. Bearn has
its ample share of loveliness and grandeur; but
in point of moral charms, none of the others can
bear comparison with it.

The inhabitants of this district, viewed in what-
ever point we will, are one of the finest and most
interesting people ofthe earth. Whether looked
at in their physical aspect, as the best formed,
the handsomest, and most active race existing ;
or in their national character, as uniting nobility
of feeling with true politeness, hospitality with
temperance, and courage with humanity, they
command our admiration and regard. Con-
sidered with respect to their history, they merit
a deeper attention, for they are perhaps the
people who present the most perfect example of
an indigenous and uncorrupted race, preserving

10 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

its language, its customs, and its character, as
they existed in the most remote antiquity.
From the period of the decline of the Roman
empire, the confusion of races among the in-
habitants of the Pyrenees was extreme. Mixed
already with the Romans, they were so after-
wards with the Alani, Suevi, Goths, and Francs ;
and, in some degree, with the Saracens during
their excursions into France. In fact, but this
one portion of the people preserved themselves
pure in the midst of confusion, ravage, and
defeat. This people, called by Roman writers
Vaccées and Vascons, appear to have belonged
to the country between the Pyrenees and the
sources of the Ebro. Unknownto the Pheenicians
and Carthaginians, who never crossed this river,
and avoiding Roman subjugation in the refuge
afforded them by their mountain fastnesses, they
were able to resist successively the Visigoths and
Moors. Finally possessing themselves of the
country of the two Navarres, they penetrated
early into Bearn; subjected for a while a part
of the people of Aquitaine (who took from them
the name of Gascons), and their posterity exist

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 11

this day in the persons of the Basques, and per-
haps of the Biscayans, who claim a like origin.
While this extraordinary and ancient people
remained thus unaltered, all around them was
changed. The vivacity of the Gaul and the
Iberian was modified more or less by Roman
gravity and barbarian grossness. The inhabit-
ants of Upper Aragon, Catalonia, and Bigorre,
all, indeed, from the centre of the Pyrenees to
the Mediterranean, showed no longer their pri-
mitive characters, a distinction destined for the
people alone of whom I am now treating *.
Such was the race of whom Henry IV. was
one; among whom he was born and brought
up; and of whom his person and his character
formed a distinguished and striking illustration.
To such an origin and such a training he owed
those fine qualities, inherited from his ancestors,
and fostered by his people ; and their obligations
were reciprocal,—for to him alone are they in-
debted for their chief celebrity in modern times.
The days being long since gone by when, ruled

* On this subject see Ramond’s Observations sur les
Pyrenées.

12 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

by their independent sovereigns, they made
themselves remarkable either by their manner
of choosing a king *, or by their conduct under
his sway, the people of Bearn would have shared
the common lot of other nations amalgamated
and confused with their conquerors, had not
the brilliant qualities of Henry stamped them
with a proud distinction. As it is, they stand
out as it were before us in an attitude of com-
manding and irresistible interest, and every in-
dividual forms a fine epitome of the dignified
simplicity of his nation. .

My readers may imagine with what pleasure
I ranged these mountains and valleys, peopled
by such a race, and consecrated by such re-
membrances. Abandoning the beaten track of

common-place intercourse, it was ever my habit

* In 1173, wishing a master of the blood of their last
sovereign, they sent a deputation to his sister to ask for
one of her twin children. The request being granted,
they had their choice. The infants both slept at the
moment. One had his hands closed, the other had his
open. The deputies saw in the latter attitude the sign
of a noble and generous character. They chose him, and
this monarch in his after-age acquired the title of Gaston
The Good.

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 13

to throw myself into the by-roads of the hills;
where, shut up, and in part identified with this
isolated region, I breathed the very spirit of
the people, and of the feelings by which they
were guided and governed. It was in these
rambles that I acquired a thorough esteem for
these hardy mountaineers, and an enthusiastic
attachment to the scenes they inhabit. My
affection for them and their country was consi-
derably strengthened from that sympathy ex-
cited throughout by the memory of the hero so
worthy of his country and his people; whose
reign was the real epoch of French glory, and
whose name is a rallying word for every thought
ennobling to humanity. But it was in an aspect
less exalted, but full as remarkable, that he was
now before me. As I wound through the passes
of the hills, tracked the winding rivulets, or
climbed the rugged rocks, Henry seemed always
‘ present to my view, as in his boyhood he scram-
bled over these mountain scenes, dressed like
the peasant children, his feet unshod, and his
head exposed to the sun and the wind *.

* Le grand-pere ne voulut pas qu’on le nourrist avec

14 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

The Biddissoa was in my rear, Spain in my
recollection, and Bayonne in sight, when I turned
from the high route between that town and Pau,
and struck into one of the gorges leading to the
depths of these mountain solitudes. Nature was
fresh and fragrant. The sun was bright. The
branches of the young pines, and the mountain
ash, moved gaily in the breeze ; and the rivulets,
gushing from the hills, danced down their sides,
over beds of verdure which burst out in a pro-
fusion of richest vegetation.

I was so exhilarated and buoyant that, con-
trary to my usual wont, I walked remarkably
fast, so much so as to keep Ranger at a regular
dog trot. My thoughts were proportionately
active, and ran on in that wild and curbless way,
so frequently consequent on good health, good
la delicatesse qu’on nourrit d’ordinaire les gens de cette
qualité, mais il ordonna qu’on Vhabillast et qu’on le
nourrist comme les autres enfans du pais; et mesme
qu’on l’accoustumast a courir et a monter sur les rochers.
On dit que pour l’ordinaire on le nourrissoit de pain bis,
de beeuf, de fromage, et d’ail; et que bien souvent on le
faisoit marcher nuds pieds et nué teste—Der PEREFIXE

Histoire du Roy Henry le Grand, Q.1, p. 18, 19, 16mo.
Elzevir, Ed. 1661.

~

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 15

spirits, and mountain air. “ Come on, Ranger !”
cried I, “never fear! our wanderings must have
a term, and who knows how soon? Yes, yes,
there is something yet in store for us. For me
a snug cottage, a nice stock of books, good
shooting, and a bottle of wine for a friend.—
For you, the chimney corner and a cushion.—
Come along, Ranger; come along !”

A responsive wag of the tail acknowledged
the cheering address; and a joyous roll on a
tufted bed of wild thyme, followed by some in-
describable capers and curvettings, announced
his sympathy with my ambitious hopes.

I never could reckon leagues, nor remember
time correctly; and on the morning | now de-
scribe was less than ever adapted to aught ma-
thematical. I was in that mood of utter abandon-
ment, and loss of self, which was never new to
poets since Horace, nor before him ;—when we
*‘ think down hours to moments,” and slide over
space unheedful of its measurement. I am thus
unable to say how far or how long I had
journeyed, when descending rapidly the moun-
tain path, which was skirted with flowers, and

16 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

fringed by two little streamlets running down
the precipitous banks, I was stopped suddenly
by a peal of laughter of enjoyment’s finest and
clearest tone. I was in tune for this cheerful
note, and paused for its repetition. It came
on my ear again and again—manly, honest,
and hearty, and at length died away in jovial
echoings, till nothing was heard but the chuckle
of some stanch votary of fun, who never got
farther, most certainly, than the mouth of
Trophonius’s cave.

The sounds were close to me, yet I saw no one ;
and I thought of the stories of Brownies, Kelpies,
and other supernatural beings, of whose joyous
revels I had many times heard from the peasants
of the Scotch highlands. I moved onwards, how-
ever, concluding thata harmlessand cheerful tra-
veller had nothing to fear from mortal or other
company, with whom he was so much in unison.

As I trudged along, I heard an occasional
voice which always seemed to utter a shout of
gladness and triumph. ‘This was accompanied
by sounds, at irregular intervals, as if some

hard substance was struck by another, for they

THE BIRTH OF HENRY Iv. id

rung echoing through the valley below me to
the left.

The sounds became suddenly fainter as I got
to a hollow part in the road; and I had almost
lost them totally, when a quick turning in the
path brought me round a projecting rock, and
displayed to me, on the acclivity at the opposite
side of a beautiful glen, the secret of these
mountain mysteries.

Hanging on the slope of the hill was a village
of mostromanticappearance. Theten oradozen
neat cottages which composed it were built, with
little space between each, in the form of a semi-
circle ; by this means affording to all the inhabit-
ants anample view of that noble and manly game
which formsthe pride and pastime of the Basques.
A group of the village youths was placed on the
green in the full exercise of their sport. They
were eight in number, fine, athletic, handsome
fellows, from fifteen years old to twenty-five
perhaps, dressed in the smart costume of the
country. One or two wore light cotton jackets,
the rest were in their shirts; some were bare-
headed, others with round flat caps, having a

VOL. Il. Cc

18 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

tassel of red worsted at the top, and all with
short breeches, tied at the knees with red or
blue knots, blue stockings, sandals laced to the
ankle, and a scarf of scarlet cotton, tied sash-
ways tightly round the waist. On each right
hand was a glove of thick leather, which struck
with incredible force and velocity the hard ball,
that seemed to carry death in its whizzing course.
Not being initiated in the game, I leave its
various details to the imagination of my readers,
but I may safely say, that in no match of English
cricket, Scotch goff, or Irish hurling (and many
a one of each have I seen and joined in), did I
ever witness such agility, skill, and elegance of
attitude, as in this party of jeu de paume.

On the benches were four or five old men,
with about as many women, delighted spectators
of the scene, and glad echoes of the bursts of joy
which followed each superiorly successful effort.
Some younger females were occupied in various
ways about the houses, while two or three were
washing at the rivulet below. One stepped up-
wards towards home, with a pitcher on her head,
a white scarf thrown fancifully over her neck,

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 19

and tied with a bunch of blue ribbons, and her
petticoats sufficiently short to show a pair of
exquisite legs, to which every part of her form
was suitable. The loveliest nymph of Greece,
or even those goddesses whose imagined sym-
metry might have dipped the pencil of Apelles
in his brightest tints, or shaped and polished
the marble of Praxiteles, would not, I am con-
vinced, have borne away the palm in a competi-
tion of grace and beauty with this rustic maid.
While my attention was taken from the sport
of the young men, and fixed upon this still more
attractive object, her eye seemed riveted on the
group, or some one member of it, which mine
had rejected ; and so intently did she gaze on the
progress of the game, that she forgot her own,
and, her foot catching ina bramble, she stumbled
and fell. A slight scream broke from her com-
panions at the river, who saw the accident. An
old couple,who had watched her with affectionate
looks as she came up, hobbled towards her. The
game was in an instant abandoned. The players
ran to the spot; but I remarked that one of them,
whose station had been at the other extremity

c2

20 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

of the ground, overtook the whole party before
they reached the prostrate beauty. It was the
affair altogether of a couple of minutes. She
was unable to rise from her knees; not that
she was in the least hurt, but her scarf had got
most awkwardly entangled in the briers which
had tripped her foot, and during her endea-
vours to extricate herself, the whole popula-
tion of the village had thronged round her.
Every one offered assistance; but I observed
that she repulsed all the hands stretched out to
relieve her, with a sort of blushing and bashful
peevishness at her situation, until she discovered
the identical youth who had outstripped his
companions, but was now confounded with them.
She gave him a smile peculiarly gracious; and
he had the honour of helping her on her feet,
and replacing her pitcher, which lost its con-
tents, but was not even cracked in the fall.
The scene ended gaily and good humouredly.
Many a joke was, no doubt, bandied at the ex-
pense of the maiden, who darted once more down
the winding path to refill the vessel; while her
young squire sprang after her, probably to keep

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 21

her eyes steady when she next ascended. The
old couple returned to their seat, their counte-
nances showing thatlittle agitation which grand-
Jatherly and grandmotherly faces generally dis-
play on such harmless accidents.

The whole party were resuming their places,
when I caught the general attention, in the ad-
vanced position to which I had involuntarily
sprung, and where I now stood, my feet crossed,
and my hands supported by the muzzle of my
gun. When I saw that I was observed, I took
off my hat and made a low obeisance. It was
unanimously returned; and on my showing an
inclination to descend to the stream, in a direct
line from the place where I stood, several hands
were waved, and three or four voices addressed
me together. I did not understand a word that
was spoken, but the purport was evident; for
the stream was broadest in that particular spot,
and a little plank was thrown across it, about
fifty yards higher up, and to which the villagers
pointed. But it was one of my moments of weak-
ness and vanity ; and, wishing to give a proof of

my activity to these muscular and agile peasants,

pipe THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

I ran down the slope, my gun in my hand, de-
termined to leap the stream. It was tolerably
wide, but not within a third of the breadth
which I was confident in my ability to cross at
a running jump; but, as if to punish my vain-
gloriousness, my foot slipped as I made the
bound, and I came with my breast against the
opposite bank, and up to my knees in water. It
was vexatious as weil as laughable, and I suppose
there was a frown mixed with the smile which I
could not repress as I scrambled up the side.
All the young men ran to my assistance; the
old people rose from their seats ; the girls ceased
their washing ; but I did not see my smile re-
flected ona single face. One of the girls, indeed,
who had laughed the heartiest at the fall of her
young companion a few minutes before, turned
her back towards me. I fancy she was forced to
give way to her merry feelings at my ludicrous
mishap, but she had the true-born politeness to
keep their expression from my view.

I was soon on my legs, and was hurried to the
nearest cottage, where a chair was placed for me
before the kitchen fire. I here formed a centre

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 93

of attraction (if not of gravity) for the inhabitants
of the village, who came, of all ages, to gratify
their curiosity at the novel sight of a stranger.
it was well for me that I had few personal secrets
to conceal from these good people, for I became
an object of the most minute and indefatigable
scrutiny. A custom-house officer, a fox-hound
in cover, or a ferret in arabbit warren, could not
have made a keener search in their respective
pursuits than did the little black-haired urchins,
from eight years downwards, in my knapsack,
my game-bag, and my pockets. I know not
what they looked for, if not the mere gratifica-
tion of curiosity, for they certainly took nothing.
The young men examined my gun, shot-pouch,
and powder-horn, with critical attention; and
the old fathers of the hamlet eyed me with a
gaze worthy of craniological acumen and ob-
servation.

Fortunately for me, two or three of the party
understood and spoke French. Among them
was a young fellow, who, in resuming the cos-
tume of his native district, had not entirely

thrown aside some of the distinguishing marks

94 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

of military service. He wore mustachios, and a
black stock, and looked stiff-necked and formal
in comparison with his elastic and loose-limbed
companions. His manners, too, had something
of ostentation and parade, and he seemed in-
clined to lord it over the others. He pushed
himself forward in his civilities, and would have
drilled his comrades into a more distant de-
meanor than was natural to them, or pleasing to
me, He had not, however, any thing actually
disagreeable in him; and had I met him in any
other circle than among the children of nature,
of whom he once was one, I should have pro-
bably singled him out as a soldier, but a little
spoiled by the foppery and pomp of his pro-
fession.

Among the objects of wonder discovered in
my knapsack (when, searching for a pair of
stockings, I first opened it to the admiring gaze
of the observers), two seemed to attract parti-
cular regard, viz. a pocket map of France, and
an eleven-keyed flute. The first was greedily
gazed on by an old man, whose keen quick eye
seemed meant by nature for the study of the rule

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 95

and square; and had I but the requisite know-
ledge of the science of sciences, I think I should
have found the algebraical bump particularly
prominent on, what appeared to me, his smooth
round pate. He was evidently much pleased,
and not a little puzzled, by the mathematical
mysteries displayed before him. His eye asked
for information, but he could not make himself
understood. He was forced to apply to the
young soldier, who acted as interpreter, and by
this medium I explained the purposes of those
mystic lines, over which the old peasant had
been pondering.

He was delighted when I pointed out Pau,
and the windings of the Gave, on the banks of
one of whose tributary streamlets we were then
making our harmless partition of districts and
provinces. But the parallels of latitude were
quite beyond his powers; and I was not a little
amused at the air of importance and learned
research with which he announced his conjecture,
that they were meant to designate the course of
rivers ; heedless, like many a profound theorist,
whether they flowed up or down hill—over or

26 THE BIRTH OF HENRY Iv.

under mountains—or had their sources in the
sea, or out of it.

As for the flute, it excited an admiration as
boundless as it was general. Nothing like it -
had ever found its way into these remote parts.
The slender reed of the mountain-shepherd, or
the simple fife of the village musician, had no
claims to those gorgeous and embarrassing di-
stinctions which rifle the pockets of fools, puzzle
their fingers, and falsify their instrument. In
short, the monstrous improvements of a late im-
mortal projector had probably never penetrated
to the vale of Oleron, had not my knapsack been
furnished identically as it was. I was deter-
mined, however, to make the best of a bad bar-
gain; and when, yielding to the solicitations of
the lads, and the wistful looks of the lasses
around me, I took up the flute, to prove the pos-
sibility of using it, I made a clatter among the
keys (clumsily enough had I chosen to confess
it), which fixed my reputation as firmly as the
principles of the music I so marred. I received
in acknowledgment an ample dose of that silent
applause so palatable and easy of digestion ; and

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 97

luckily for me, there was no Plato of the party,
to ask what I meant by the noise I made.

All this while the good woman to whom the
cottage belonged was preparing for me a truly
pastoral meal. Eggs, milk, honey, butter, and
bread, were placed before me, all perfectly de-
licious in quality, and in such proportions as are
fitting for mountain appetites.

As the table filled, the room emptied; and
the delicacy of my rustic circle in thus retiring,
caused me full as much pleasure, I warrant it,
as they had experienced from the most extra-
vagant exhibition of my musical skill. My kind
entertainer appeared to enjoy high respect
among the villagers. She spoke French well,
and hada smattering of Spanish. I had no time
to inquire the particulars of a history which,
from her erudition, intelligence, and good man-
ners, promised something above her station. I
only learned that, in her youth, she had lived at
Bayonne, where her father had been employed
inthe customs, and where she acquired her know-
ledge; and that on his losing his situation and
his head, during the troubles of the Revolution,

88 THE BIRTH OF HENRY Iv.

she had retired to the protection afforded by
the honest Basques, and their obscure village.
Having told me so much, she left me to the
discussion of my exquisite repast. While I ate
and cogitated, I heard a confused murmur, like
the humming of a mighty swarm of bees; and
in that kind of restless curiosity which often
breaks in on our most important moments, I
looked out of the window into the little garden,
and on the lawn, to discover whence the sound
proceeded. Butit became fainteras Lapproached
the open air. I was fain to sit down again un-
satisfied, but the buzz continued; and, deter-
mined to explore the whole apartment, I opened
a couple of little closets, a clothes-press, and a
salt-box, without any result but disappointment.
I next groped round the walls, and one side of
the room being formed by a wooden partition
papered over, I clapped my ear close to it, and
found myself on the high road to information.
The sounds were louder and more distinct ; so
feeling for a chink between the planks of the
partition, I pierced a little hole through the
paper with the screw attached to my pocket

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 99

knife, and applying my eye to it, I perceived
about a dozen of the peasant children seated on
a form, and conning over their lessons; while
placed before a little rickety desk, in an old
oak arm-chair, was my hostess, in all the tem-
pered majesty of a village schoolmistress.

The temple was homely, the priestess plain,
and the votaries of little worth ; but knowledge
was the goddess they invoked! That was suf-
ficient for me; and I protest that the most
dazzling display of academical pomp never in-
spired me with a deeper devotion for learning
than I was filled with on beholding this humble
tribute to its value.

_ Being refreshed and satisfied, I prepared to
set out; but my proceedings being carefully ob-
served by the young people on the green, they
no sooner saw that I had finished my meal than
they advanced towards me ina body. While I
had been eating they had all prepared them-
selves for dancing, and they now came gaily
forwards to request my performance on the flute.
That being easily accorded, I took my station in
front of the house, on a bench overhung by vines

30 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

and honeysuckles. The dancers were*soon in
their places, and the opera never showed a dis-
play of more natural agility and taste. Flowers
and ribbons had been hastily twined in the hair
of the females. They all, to use an Irish phrase,
“handled their feet” with uncommon grace, and
the whole group was a fine specimen of the
living picturesque. '‘T'wo of the girls had casta-
nets, the use of which they had learned from
some straggling Spaniards who had tarried
awhile in the village. Two of the young men
carried those little tambourins which form a
constant accompaniment to the dances of the
Basques; and I, discarding the use of a good
two-thirds of my eleven keys, contrived to play,
in tolerable time and tune, some of those sweet
country dances in which the French do posi-
tively excel all nations.

The dance being ended, I fxinly began to take
leave. I shook hands with every one around
me; and the reader may believe me, that when
I relinquished the grasp of my erudite hostess,
she blushed a deep blush of offended pride on
finding a piece of money inher palm. She did

.

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 5

not speak a word, but stepping briskly up to
me as I turned round, she replaced it in my
hand, and there was in her manner a modest
determination which utterly forbid a renewal
of the affront.

My old mathematician was sitting under a
lime-tree musing on the map. He stood up, and
offered it to me with a look as if he had been
parting from a dear friend. I put it between
his hands as I cordially shook them, and in a
way to mark that such was its final destination.
He looked quite surprised and happy; placed
one hand on his heart, and with the other took
off his cap, and swept it down to the grass. I
wished to say “ good bye” to the soldier, but I
saw that he skulked round a clump of acacias,
and evidently avoided me.

I asked the schoolmistress if she knew the
cause of this caprice. “ Alas! my dear sir,”
said she, “ you know not the wound you have
unconsciously given to the vanity of the poor
fellow. He is the musician, par excellence, of
the whole village; but the shrill tones of his fife

32 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

are, I fear, for ever hushed. Nothing, I think,
could console him for this day’s disgrace.”

No, no, said I to myself, after a moment’s
pause, it is impossible. By Jove, I cannot, will
not, be always a fool! 'To buy it was bad enough,
but to give it away in this manner would be
worse. ‘“ My good hostess, I am indeed sorry
that my gaudy instrument should have put the
poor lad out of conceit with his more simple,
but, no doubt, sweeter one. ‘Tell him so for
me, and that I hope he will soon change his key,
and discard all discord from his feelings. 'To
you I should be glad to give some little proof of
my esteem. Do take this little edition of Mas-
sillon’s Petit Caréme: I have carried it in my
pocket for some leagues, and it has helped to
shorten many ofthem. It is not of value enough
to be refused, and only worth acceptance for the
excellence of the matter, and the good will of
the donor.”

“1 take it with pleasure, and thankfully,”
replied she ; “and the only thing I can offer you
in return is this scrap of a pamphlet, which, as

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 53

relating to our country, may interest you for
half an hour.”

I took her present, and glancing my eye on
the title, found it to be, in French, “The Birth
of Henry IV.” I rolled it up and put it care-
fully in my pocket to be read at my leisure.

Several handkerchiefs and berrets were waved
after me as I wound down the hill, followed by
Ranger, whose round paunch and sober pace did
honour to the hospitality of the village. ‘The
last thing I saw of these unsophisticated people
was the lovely girl, whose fall I have recounted,
walking slowly in a shady path with her lover
—for I would lay a good round wager that he
was her lover, ay, and her favoured lover too.

As I passed them, they both, by signs and
looks, wished me a pleasant walk—a compli-
ment which I thought it quite unnecessary to
return. My eyes said something to them in
reply, however, which was answered on the part
of the nymph

With a smile that glow’d

Celestial rosy red, love’s proper hue ;

and by the lover with a look ‘of self-content,
VOL, Il. D

.2)

34 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

which seemed to say that he agreed with me
perfectly.

The echoing sounds of the ball, which once
more came upon my ear, told me that the much-
loved game was again in full play. I believe
I had one passing thought of something like
chagrin, to think that my departure had left so
slight an impression on the villagers. But this
was quickly replaced by the consoling fancy that
they had recourse to their sports to banish their
regrets; and one self-sufficient notion followed
another, as fast as vanity could string them
together, or folly give them utterance. It is,
however, certain that I hurried my pace at a
marvellous rate, to the great discomfiture of
Ranger’s digestion; and any ill-natured reader
may account for my speed, by supposing that I
feared to encounter a new burst of jollity, which
might have thrown me back into the sad belief
that I was no longer thought of.

I walked in a beautiful valley. A clear stream,
as is usual in these mountain hollows, ran in the
middle, and the hilly banks were covered with
woods. A few straggling cottages, like outliers

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 35

from the village herd, were perched in little
nooks upon the heights, and the dark green of
the vegetable garden, attached to each, formed a
rich contrast to the yellow corn fields and bright
meadows which surrounded them. The variety
of position in these lofty regions makes a variety
of climates within a small compass. In some of
the exposed and open places the harvest was far
advanced. In others, more sheltered from the
sun, it was just begun. ‘The upland meadows
were in some parts mowed: in others, the crop
of after grass was springing, under the influence
of continual irrigation from a dozen overflowing
streams. The low grounds near the rivulet were
now yielding their treasures to the labour of the
mower, and in one spot, where I stopped to gaze
on the lovely scenery, I heard the flail, the
scythe, and the sickle, joined in a harmony of
rural sounds.

Just there the confluence of several streamlets
from the hills had formed a basin of water, which
worked out a considerable excavation in the
banks. ‘The earth was quite washed away from
the base of alarge rock at the side where I walked,

D2

36 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

and my path was abruptly terminated on the
pebbly edge of the little lake. ‘To have climbed
the rock, by means of the creeping shrubs which
covered it, would have been very difficult if not
dangerous, and no one being in sight to stimulate
my love of fame, I did not attempt it. Besides,
i considered that if I even got to the top, I might
have to descend again in search of an outlet.
Something told me, too, that I was not the first
who had arrived at the termination of the little
road; and I thought the chances were against
its having been made for the mere purpose of
leading people into a scrape. I therefore de-
termined to call for help, hoping, at least, that
the genius of the stream would deign to come to
my aid. I loudly hallooed “ Boat! boat!” and
my call was not long unnoticed. Close to where
Istood, and almost touching the rock which pro-
jected over the water, a little pointed prow came
suddenly towards me; and as the full length of
the boat came in view, it swung up to the beach,
bythe management of a rope and pulleyattached
to the rock, but which escaped my previous ob-
servation. No living thing appeared, but I did

8 Ler f

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. od

not hesitate to accept the courteous but silent
offer of a passage, and, stepping gallantly over
the side, I put myself under the protection of
all the nymphs and naiades that ever ruled or
sported in these waters.

As soon as I was embarked, the little canoe
swung round again, and was pulled by some in-
visible hand round the rock, to a romantic little
cove about ten yards at the other side. Still
there was no one to be seen. This looked cer-
tainly very like enchantment—but it was no
enchantment after all. For while I stood with
one foot on the gunnel and another on shore,
looking my inquiries from hill and dale, a hoarse
gruff voice called out, “ Here ! this way!” I fol-
lowed the direction of the ungracious tones ; and,
at half a dozen paces from me, observed a kind
of grotto, or hut, or hovel, which was a puzzling
mixture of the architecture of beautiful nature
and rude art. Wishing to describe it by an
epithet clear and concise, I shall call it the
rustic-composite ; and I shall be happy to show
to any of my curious readers a copy from this

38 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

model whenever it pleases the Fates to allow
me to
Call one spot of all the world my own.

Peeping out from a little loophole in this rest-
ing-place was a rough-looking personage, of an
aspect such as Charon might have shown had he
beena toll-gatherer instead ofa ferryman. Hav-
ing no strongly developed taste for mechanics,
I did not feel any desire to examine the con-
trivance by which he brought his boat to harbour
and then sent her out again for a new freight ;
and not finding any thing inviting in his phy-
siognomy or address, I paid him his sows, and
made my way up the path which ascended a
tolerably high hill. I meant to indulge myself,
when I should reach the top, with a view of the
country, and a perusal of the schoolmistress’s
pamphlet; but a new rencontre retarded for a
little the gratification of my curiosity, and the
reader cannot grumble if he shares the same
fate.

_As I prepared to ascend, my eye was caught
by a figure descending rapidly towards me, It

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 39

was that of a man, tall, stout, and vigorous. A
broad-leafed hat covered his head. He wore a
blue tight cotton vest, small-clothes of the same,
with large ties of red tape. His legs were bare ;
and sandals of undressed cow hide, the hair in-
ward, were tied round his ankles with thongs of
leather. In a broad belt buckled round his
waist were attached a small hatchet, for clearing
his passage through the glaciers, and a pair of
iron-spiked shoes, without which it is impossible
to traverse the snowy regions at the summit of
the mountains. Across his shoulders was flung
a short carbine, and in his hand he bore a staff
spiked at one end, to aid his ascent in the passes
of ice then glittering far above us.

The moment he perceived me, he stopped
short, sprung half behind a large stone; and in
an instant his carbine was cocked, and his eye
fixed fiercely on me. “Friend or foe?” asked
he in Spanish, and in a tone which sounded like
a positive declaration of war. mt

“ T ama traveller,” replied I, “ and a foe to
no honest man.” He looked at me a moment

sternly, but not so fiercely as at first ; and seeing

AQ THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

nothing hostile in my attitude or manner, he
stepped towards me, his carbine in his hand,
ready for action if required, and taking care to
keep the advantage of the high ground. As he
approached, I rested the but-end of my gun upon
the ground, and waited his address. “ If lam
not mistaken, sir,” said he in French, “ you are
not a Frenchman.”

“ You are right,” replied I.

“« English, by the Virgin !” exclaimed he, and
springing forward, he stretched out his hand.
Though not quite in unison with the impetuous
warmth of his friendship, I gave him my hand,
and received a squeeze that tingled through
every nerve of my body. His eyes at the same
time brightened ; a flush of swarthy red showed
itself on the dark brown of his cheek, and he
smiled as if he was sincerely and heartily pleased.

Viewing him in this light, without a shade of
the ferocity which first struck me, I thought
him, and still think he was, the handsomest man
I ever saw. His black hair curled down upon
his shoulders. He did not wear mustachios, but
his upper lip only was shaved, and his beard and

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 41

whiskers were bushy and short, such as we give
toa Roman hero of from thirty to forty years
of age. His shirt was open at the neck, and ex-
posed his breast covered with curly hair, and
displayinga mostimposing breadth and strength.
** You are English,” cried he, “ I Spanish—are
we not then friends?” He spoke his own lan-
guage. I replied in French, which was easier
to me, that I hoped our nations were and would
be always friends.

“ IT hope so too,” cried he, “ for many a day
have I fought side by side with the noble En-
glish. From the Ebro to the Adour we marched
step by step together; and the passes of these
hills have many a time heard the echo of my
carbine joined with that of Wellington’s cannon.”

“ You are no longer a soldier?” asked I.

“No, [ am now nothing more nor less than
a smuggler. Ever since the affair of Orthes,
there below us, where I got a French bullet
through my body, I have trod the roads of these
my native mountains, making out life and cheat-
ing the king just as well as I could. You sce I

tell you frankly what I am, lest you might take

42 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

me for worse. A smuggler, mind you, not a
robber. But, if you would know me better, ask
Mina.—They say he is at Paris. Ask him the
character of Josef Ramirez, the Guerilla of Jaca!
But time presses. I have a long road before me,
and must not tarry. God be with you! Adieu!”

Repeating, with these words, the friendly and
forcible squeeze of the hand, the smuggler parted
from me, and was in a minute or two in deep
conversation with the toll-taker at the rivulet
side. The latter pointed to me, as if counselling
caution; but the other, without looking at me,
shook his head, and clapped his companion on
the shoulder, as much as to say, “ Fear nothing
—he is English.”

The short conference being ended, the smug-
gler stepped into the boat, without once turning
his head to salute friends or look for foes. He
wheeled round the cliff, and was in a moment
lost to my sight, but not for ever. In about an
hour afterwards, as I gazed from the top of the
hill, at whose foot we parted, at the splendid
view, and thrilled with a delight ever new to

me, at the near prospect of these stupendous

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 43

mountains—I saw a dark cloud come sweeping
down their side; and marching stoutly to meet
it, the hardy figure of the smuggler caught my
attention. He had made most rapid way ; yet the
various windings of the vales, and the lesser hills
which he had crossed, kept him still sufficiently
near to enable me to view him distinctly. Wish-
ing to give him asignal of recollection and good
will, I fired a shot, which reverberated in a hun-
dred echoes round me, but he either did not hear
the report, or scorned to pay attention to it.

I sat down at the moment on a smooth spot ;
and on one of the fragments of rock which were
scattered round me, I sketched the following
lines. It was not the fault of either the subject
or the scene that they were not better,

THE MOUNTAINEER.

Brave, enterprising, firm, and proud,
He boldly steps the dangerous path,

Faces the gathering thunder-cloud,
Indifferent to its rising wrath:

Scorning the shelter of the rock—

Shrinks not, but dares the hail-storm’s shock ;

Or in some wind-worn crevice laid,

A granite cushion for his head,

44

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

Proof ’gainst the blast, unharm’d by cold,
Alike from fear and sorrow free ;

His rough bed freedom’s vantage-hold,
His shade the wings of liberty.

The riot of the heavens gone by,
Once more the sun relumes the sky,
And strikes the hill with burning glow,
While lightnings scorch the vales below. —
But the bold mountaineer defies
These fierce contentions of the skies:
Bounds from the earth with active spring,
And like the untamed forest-king,
Who quits his couch, uproused by rain,
Shaking the big drops from his mane.—
This mountain monarch leaves his lair,
Dashes the cold shower from his hair ;
Unfearing tracks his prompt advance,
Nor deigns to cast one backward glance.
No dastard doubts may linger near
The free-born breeze that wantons here.—
Pure as the fine and subtle breath

That sports o’er Erin’s circling wave,
Wafting to every reptile death,

But health and welcome to the brave.

Such vigorous essence, pure and wild,
Inhales the mountain’s roving child ;
But the best boast of Erin’s pride,
Soft, social joys, he casts aside.
He owes no binding ties to man ;
But such as he is, fiercely free—
He scorns the jargon that would scan
The different shades of rank’s degree.

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

To him all equal. By one proof

He measures mind and body both.—
Strength is his standard—far aloof

He flings ail goods of meaner growth,
And judges by this general scale
The lowly hind of Lasto’s vale ;
The somewhat civilized, who bask
In the dull freedom of Venasque ;
Polish’d or rustic ; vile or good ;
Plebeian, noble, learned, rude,
The beggar, wretch, or him who reigns
Lord of Iberia’s wide stretch’d plains—
Feeble and false in every thing ;
By force a patriot as by fraud a king!

Such is the tide of thought that fills

The wayward wanderer of the hills.
Boundless as Nature’s self he roves,

And Nature for her grandeur loves.

No weakling power his passions stirs ;

His friendships are with her and hers :
Unknown to him each siren charm,
Which lures the listening wretch to harm ;
Those arts refined, which, meant to bless,
Sink into sorrows and excess.

His the bold intercourse that grows

To greatness from the things it knows:
His fellowship is grand and high ;

He talks with tempests. The vast sky— |
The massive glacier, huge and hoar—
The rushing blast—the torrent’s roar—
These his familiars stern and strong ;
He lisps in youth their lofty tongue,

46 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

Grows in their spirit, takes their tone,
And makes their attributes his own.
Such sure was man’s primeval state,
Like Nature, noble, wild, and great ;
Meant for a monarch, not the slave

Of self-born conquest ;—proudly brave,
With lion look and eagle eye,

Firm foot on earth, and thoughts on high.
So came the being, rudely grand,
Warm-glowing from his Maker’s hand ;
So stalk’d in Eden’s bowers, till sin,
Damping his energies, crept in,

And art entwined its chill caress

To tame his godlike savageness.

Tt is not necessary to state how often the
verses have been reconsidered and retouched,
nor the exact time occupied in the first rough
sketch: but the mountaineer was out of sight
when I had finished; and luckily for me, a
cottage was in view, where I made sure of a
lodging for the night, which was not far distant.
But before I quitted my resting-place, I took
out the schoolmistress’s pamphlet; and fancy-
ing that I had, in even this one day, seen enough
to give mea just notion of the people of Henry
IV., I thought I was fitly prepared to read the
account of his birth.

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 4G

I found, on examining it, that what I had got
of the pamphlet was but a part of awhole. All
that preceded or followed the subject of Henry’s
birth was torn away; but these few pages were
perfect, and seemed from the conclusion to have
been recently published. When I thought of
turning it into English, I did not conceive my-
self bound to adhere very closely to the original
meagre sketch, nor the errors it contained ; and
I therefore made some most unmerciful inter-
polations. The reader being thus informed that
I am not responsible for all of this trifle, will, I
trust, make an equitable and candid distribution;
viz. to place any thing that may please him to
my credit, and give the merit of what he does
not like to the French writer, on whose founda-
tion my labours were built.

** Make haste, wife—I am just ready to set
out. Make haste, make haste!”
~ At the voice of her impatient husband, the
good wife called her son and grandson to receive
the orders of the old man. The son came first.

48 THE BIRTH OF HENRY Iv.

* Joseph, you will remain all night upon the
hill, until yousee the flame glowing on the towers
of the royal chateau. You will then light the
faggots which are ready prepared, that the whole
valley may learn at once that a child is born to
our good king. Youknow, asingle fire announces
a girl: three—ah! if it was but a boy! woe to
the Spaniards! our beautiful Navarre would not
be long in their hands. But now our king is old,
and the husband of his daughter sheds, in the
service of Henry II., that blood which should be
poured out in reconquering the paternal estates.
And the Princess Jeanne! why, with all the
courage of a man, oh! why is she a woman?”
Joseph set out for the hill, and Enriot waited
for his grandfather to speak again. “ My child,”
said the old man, after a long pause, “ you are
to-day twenty years of age. ‘To-day I should
like to present you to your king:—you must
come with me.” The lad trembled with joy;
the grandsire went on. “ Wife, give me my
arms—those which I carried in our last battle
against the Spaniards. Alas! it is a long time
since then. I that day had the glory of shielding

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. , 49

with my body my wounded king.” ‘The dame
_ obeyed the order; the arms were taken out of
the family chest, and the old man brought them
to the door of the cottage. The sun was sinking
behind the hills, and threw a stream of dazzling
light upon these relics of the veteran’s glory.
They were brilliant, for he took a pride in keep-
ing off the ravages of rust. He placed the glit-
tering helmet upon his head; a battered cuirass
covered his broad and manly chest; in his
leathern belt he hung the broad-sword which
had parried the stroke meant for his monarch’s
life ; and lastly, he flung across his shoulders the
scarlet cloak, on which were embroidered, in
blue worsted, the two cows—the arms of Bearn.
Enriot was quickly prepared. A graceful cap.
half hid his long, brown hair; an open vest,
loose breeches, woollen stockings, embroidered
in different colours, and worked by his mother’s
hands, with thick shoes, completed his dress. In
one hand he lightly balanced the knotted staff,
which served for support in climbing the hills.
The other carried a small basket, into which his
grandfather had put a piece of coarse bread, a

VOL. if, E

50 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

clove of garlic, freshly gathered, and a bottle of
old wine of Jurancon.

After the old man had reminded the women
to take to their prayers, the moment the bells .
should announce the commencing labour of the
princess, and cautioned them to pray strongly
for a boy, he and Enriot set out. For several
days the whole district had awaited with anxiety
this importantevent. Risinginthe morning, they
thought it impossible that it could be delayed
till night; and many a sound-sleeping peasant
had been startled from his rest, during the week
just passed, with fancied tinglings from the
steeple of Pau—while some, amongst whom was
Ibarria, for so the old man was named, made re-
gular daily pilgrimages to the castle gates. The
result of these expeditions had been hitherto
only disappointment, but a new dream every
night promised posztive intelligence for the fol-
lowing day. Hemoreover remembered well, that
when he wasa stripling, full halfa century before,
a reputed magician had foretold, that the day on
which he had a grandson twenty years old would
be the proudest day he had ever known. That

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 51

might, to be sure, have been the case from na-
tural feeling alone, unconnected with the birth
of princes; but Tbarria insisted that there was
something great woven into the prophecy ; and
this day being also the day of full moon, he
reckoned with a certainty, in which he was borne
out by the opinions of all the old women around,
that the Princess Jeanne was to become that
day the mother of a race of kings.

Ibarria, having served for along period in the
body guard of the king of Navarre, had accom-
panied his master in his retirement to Pau. The
grateful monarch had given to his old soldier a
house at Jurancon, and had appointed him to the
care of the royal vineyards. There this faithful
follower, in his honourable trust, passed his quiet
days; recounting to his children the virtuous
and courageous actions of the master whom he
loved so well. He nourished in their breasts two
powerful passions—affection for his prince, and
hatred of his foes. He had long indulged the
expectation of seeing his king reconquer Pam-
peluna, but it was nearly dissipated, when the
situation of the Princess Jeanne awoke his

E2

52 THE BIRTH OF HENRY Iv.

slumbering ideas, and flattered his ancient hopes.
He waited with impatience the promised infant,
the anticipated redressor of his master’s wrongs.

There never was a people more devoted to
their sovereign than were the people of Bearn.
There was a noble frankness in the character of
the old monarch that associated admirably with
theirown. ‘They loved him as a father; and
his daughter shared their hearts with him. The
circumstance of her having first felt the move-
ments of the child within her bosom while in
camp with her husband in Picardy, amidst the
sound of drumsand trumpets, flattered their war-
like superstitions ; and they had with one voice
settled (and it was prophetic) that this forth-
coming child was to be first a boy, and then a
hero. Animated by this joyful hope, they waited
the announcement of a prince with that respect-
ful confidence inspired by faith in the goodness
of the All-wise.

It was now the commencement of winter; but
it was one of those winters into which the warm
farewell of the departing season blends, as does
the brilliant green with the dusky purple of a

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IVY. 53

rainbow; when the trees retain their leaves
beyond their wonted time, and a casual nightin-
gale is still heard to pour his melody upon the
last traces of the dying year. The heavens still
kept their serenity, and the earth its verdure;
and the day seemed ruled by the lingering spirit
of autumnal mildness.

As the travellers pursued their route, after
evening had closed in, Ibarria had taken up his
favourite strain: he was talking of the wisdom of
the king, and the virtues of the princess. It was
the first time, perhaps, that Enriot had listened
to his grandfather with a forced attention, for
they were close upon the dwelling of the venera-
ble and gallant Franke. “ Let us quit the road
and take the mountain-path,” said the old man
suddenly, on perceiving the chestnut-trees which
shaded the roof of his ancient fellow-soldier.
« The way will be longer, but my heart will not
throb with indignation against the perfidious
friend who betrayed my confidence. My rage
surprises you, perhaps.—Listen to me, child !
Learn, that before I married my good wife,
whom God bless and preserve! I had long loved

54: THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

a young maiden of thevale of Maia. Franke was
my friend—became my rival—and, during my
absence in the wars, possessed himself of her for
whom I would have given my life. Oh, but she
was good and handsome! You have seen her
grand-daughter Laurinette? She is her very
image. You must have remarked her—Is she
not lovely ?”

Enriot made an inclination of the head, for he
had remarked the girl. He followed his grand-
father awhile in silence; but just as they came
to a little grove of acacias, he cast a look among
the trees, and coughed. Receiving no answer,
he suddenly clapped his hand to his forehead and
exclaimed, “ What a head I have here! Dear
grandfather, will you forgive me? I have left
behind me the bodice which sister Catrine has
worked for Mademoiselle de Montbrun, and
which I so positively promised to take to Pau.
I must step back for it.”

“ You must not step back for it, stupid boy!”
said old Ibarria, sharply. “ What, keep me
waiting at a time like this, when all the country
is pressing to the castle—and for a paltry bodice,

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 55

forsooth !”—“ But, consider, sir, it is meant to
do honour to our princess, and the young prince
she is swre to give us! And you know, my dear
grandfather, that walk as fast as you will, I shall
overtake you with ease before you reach the
river.”

This reasoning was conclusive with Ibarria,
for he was fond of the notion of honouring the
princess and the prince he was so sure of; and
nothing was to him a trifle which tended to that
point. Besides, he was proud of Enriot’s agility,
and loved to follow him with his eyes as he
bounded along the mountain-paths, full as grace-
ful, and almost as fleet, as the Izard which he
chased from pic topic. ‘Go along then, puppy !”

ried Ibarria—and Enriot was in a moment at
full speed.

Laurinette, whom Enriot had remarked, was
at this identical moment in one of her most
peevish and fretful moods ; but her peevishness
had something so gentle and bewitching in it,
that it was often preferred to other people’s good
humour. Her temper was now, however, tried

56 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

to the utmost, for Franke, her grandfather, had
made her sit down to her usual evening’s task
of reading him to sleep; but, by an uncommon
perversity, had not begun to doze at the second
or third page, as was his regular custom. Lau-
rinette turned her eyes oftener towards a little
acacia grove, visible from the window, than she
fixed them upon the old history of the Kings of
Navarre. The breaks which she thus made in
the narrative kept up the attention of the old
man, defeating her own object, and the natural
effects of the narrative itself.

She thus went on for some time, but was at
last on the point of losing all command of her-
self, for she saw the moonlight slowly mixing
with the gray vapours that covered the moun-
tain tops; and she would certainly have burst
into tears had not her grandfather begun to nod
in his chair, and ina moment more given a nasal
notice that he was fast asleep. Laying down
her book, she was preparing to steal towards
the door, when a voice, not new to her, warbled
from the garden the following

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 57

RUSTIC SERENADE.

is

Laurinette dear, the sun is down,
His last glance fades on the mountain’s peak ;
And the drooping heads of the herbage brown
Are faintly tinged with his yellow streak.
The moisten’d foliage warmly weeps ;
Still is the villagers’ evening hum ;
Nature is hush’d, and echo sleeps—
Laurinette dear to thy lover come!

iF

Mark in the eastern heavens a light
That shines on the flowers which the dews have wet ;
*Tis the wakening glance of the queen of night,
And, slothful girl! thou comest not yet.
The nightingale warbles his notes of love,
Perch’d on the quivering branches high,
While the fluttering leaves might be thought to move
In time to his moonlight melody.

Lis.

The rivulets gush from the mountain springs
To freshen the still warm breath of the vale ;
Zephyr is out on his silvery wings,
And pleasure is floating abroad on the gale.
But pleasure, and beauty, and music, all
To the heart of the lover are chill and dumb,
While the maiden he dotes on slights his call.
Then Laurinette dear to thy lover come!

58 THE BIRTH OF HENRY Iv.

The echo to this last line was a sweet embrace
from the lips of the lovely girl ; and Enriot forgot
for a moment all else in the world. It will be
divined by the reader that this young couple had
been a long time very good friends, unknown to
their grandsires, whose enmity had kept them
asunder. It will probably be suspected too,
that the asserted forgetfulness of the bodice was
wholly a fabrication of the amorous Enriot. Such
was the truth; for the bodice had been snugly
deposited in his bosom on his leaving home, and
had he but had a glimpse of Laurinette in pass-
ing the acacia grove, he would not have been
forced to the falsehood. As it was, I hope it
will be held venial in such a good cause, with-
out any serious injury to religion or morals.

This stolen interview was as rapid as lightning,
and as brilliant too. The moment it lasted might
be called a drop of “ the essence of time.” The
hearts of the lovers was the alembic in which it
was doubly distilled ; and its fragrance had not
evaporated when Enriot rejoined his grand-
father at half a league’s distance from the house
of Franke. “ Well, sir, I have caught you,” cried

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 59

he, panting for breath. “ Youare a good boy,”
replied the old man, and they went silently on.

The birth-day of an heir is joyous for a family.
How glorious for a kingdom is the birth-day of a
sovereign! Hardly were the first strokes of the
bells heard by the anxious inhabitants of Pau,
than they rushed out to inquire the news. The
lively sounds spread quickly over the plain,
through which the Gave winds tranquilly along.
They struck upon the ears of Ibarria and Enriot,
just as they had reached the rising grounds
which stretch before the town and towers of Pau.
They had both been for some time silent. Ibar-
ria’s thoughts had swept over a space nearly as
extensive as is allotted to the life of man—had
dwelt awhile on his early hours—then rushed
back to present days—and ended by subsiding
into mental prayers for a prince. Enriot was
thinking of something else.

“ On, on, my boy! we loiter. I would not for
my whole vintage be too late.” They hurried
up the ascent. The straining eyes of the old
man would have penetrated the hill. Enriot

burned with impatience, but slackened his steps

60 THE BIRTH OF HENRY Iv.

to keep pace with his grandsire. At last the
fuller sounds of the bells came unobstructed on
their ears; they reached the summit; and the
whole enchanting panorama, lit by the full moon,
burst upon their sight.

The Spanish proverb says, that “ they have
seen nothing who have not seen Seville.” How
little have they seen who have not seen Pau!
Its lovely sloping hill covered with gardens and
vineyards ; itsneat buildings, rising in gradations
of beauty, and reposing in masses of verdure ;
its proud and glittering castle towering over all,
with white flags floating salutation to the rivers,
the forests, the mountains! But who can de-
scribe it? O no one.—It is one of those views
to be seen and felt; when the mind is raised by
the contemplation of nature’s magnificence ; and
the’ heart softened by the fulness of her bounty.

Ibarria and Enriot had many a time viewed
this scene ; but they stopped, even now, awhile
in involuntary admiration, and gazed upon it till
a dark cloud, covering the face of the moon,
robbed the landscape of its lustre, and warned
them to proceed. The bells are still ringing ;

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 61

they have now a downhill path, and they gain
upon the road. But just as they reach the
borders of the river, and at the instant that they
put their first step upon the bridge, the bells
suddenly cease, and a fire bursts high from the
castle’s central tower. The travellers stop short
—their expectant eyes are fixed upon the other
towers. Let imagination fancy their appear-
ance.—Their quickened pulse, and breath
arrested—their gazing countenances, flushed
cheeks, and flowing hair—their picturesque
attire—their graceful figures !

Thus they stood for some seconds, every one
of which appeared an hour. “ But one fire—-
but one, grandfather?” asked, rather than ex-
> claimed, Enriot. “ Great God, thy will be done !”
cried the old man. The suspense continued—
it was intolerable. They could not have borne
it longer, when a little gleam spread flickering
on the western turret, and in an instant the com-
bustible matter shot upwards its flames upon the
sky. Another fire, on the corresponding turret,
completed the signal for a boy; and salvos of
artillery roared out. The shouts of enthusiastic

62 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

thousands joined the joyous chorus; and the
hills sent on from crag to crag reverberations
of the sounds.

Where are the travellers? Ah! behold them
—on their knees; their heads uncovered ; their
hands clasped together, and raised towards
Heaven ; their eyes fixed upon the blazing sig-
nals; their cheeks streaming with tears!

They are soon again upon their feet, and
quickly ascend the rapid path which leads from
the river to the castle. They pause but one
moment to look back towards home, hoping to
see their little signal-fire. They turn their heads,
and do see their signal-fire, no doubt—but it is
in vain that they would hope to distinguish it
amongst a hundred blazing from the summit of
a hundred hills.

They reached the castle. The portcullis was
raised, the draw-bridge down, and no guards
were seen to obstruct the rush of the crowd.
The court-yard was already filled when Ibarria
and Enriot arrived. The uniform of the old
soldier, his respectable character, as well as the
well-known friendship of the king, were all so

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. _ 63

many causes for clearing a way for his approach.
He penetrated through the crowd, and directed
his steps to the private staircase, by which he
was privileged to enter, leaving the grand ap-
proach to the thousands who were, for the first
time, promiscuously admitted. As he mounted
the steps, followed by Enriot, a strain of music
seemed to invite his approach. Instead of the
plaintive cries which he expected to have heard,
he distinguished an old song of the country, and
was surprised at any one venturing to sing at
such atime. The air was one of mingled ten-
derness and solemnity, and the words were pro-
nounced in a feeble and tremulous tone. Fa-
tigued by his long walk, and by the height of
the staircase, [barria stopped awhile to recover
breath. Enriot stood wrapped in astonishment
and awe; and they heard the following

SONG OF THE PRINCESS JEANNE*.

i
Sing! for the voice of the newly born
Falls in sweet sounds on the mother’s ear ;
Like the sun-beam mix’d with the cloud of morn,
On her cheek is a blended smile and tear.

* Jeanne d’Albret wishing to see her father’s will, he
promised to show it to her, “‘ A condition que dans I’en«

64 THE BIRTH OF HENRY Iv.

iI.
The vows of her lover, her husband’s kiss,
Were dear when in joy’s young hours she smiled ;
But feeble and faint to her matron bliss
As she clasps to her bosom her first-born child.
Ill.
When the child is a man, to the battle field
He will follow his father the foe to meet ;
And in victory’s pride lay his foeman’s shield,
With a high-throbbing heart, at his mother’s feet !

During the last stanza of the song Ibarria
and Enriot had reached the head of the stairs.
The door before them was open and unguarded.
They hesitated an instant whether they should
enter or not, and interchanged looks of mutual
uncertainty. While thus silently, mentally de-
bating, a woman, from the apartment within,
perceiving them, ran forward, and exclaimed in
a transport of joy, “ Come in, come in; he is

fantement elle luy chanteroit une chanson ‘ afin,’ luy dit
il, ‘ que tune me fasses pas un enfant pleureux et rechigné.’
La Princesse le luy promit, et eut tant de courage, que
malgré les grandes douleurs qu'elle suffroit, elle luy tint
parole, et en chanta une en son langage Bernois.”—Hist.
du Roy Henry le Grand, par de Perefixe, t. i. p. 16.

Notwithstanding this authority of the Bishop of Rho-
dez, it will be observed that I have made the princess
sing after the birth.

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 65

born!” She drew them along, and led them to
_ the chamberof the princess, where they had been
preceded by a multitude admitted without di-
stinction or inquiry.

The old monarch was leaning over his daugh-
ter’s bed. He took the infant from her arms,
and raising it in his own, he turned towards the
crowd, and showing it to all, he cried aloud,
** You see it is a boy!” It was at this moment
that Ibarria, taking from his grandson’s basket
the clove of garlic and the wine, presented them
to the king, who kindly smiled, on recognising
his old preserver. The monarch himself then
rubbed the clove of garlic to the infant’s lips,
and having poured a little of the wine into a
goblet, he offered it to the child. He drank it
with avidity, and without uttering a cry; and,
as though his imperfect vision had acquired its
powers, he turned round the circle his half-open
eyes.

“‘ What is his name?” asked a voice. An-
other exclaimed, “ Call him Henry, after his
grandfather !” “ Be it so,” said the old king;

VOL. II. F

66 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

and all cried, “ Long live Henry!” The crowd
which waited on the staircase, in the halls, the
chambers, and the court-yard, echoed the cry
thus sent forth; and the sound of its genuine
honesty would have been a good lesson for the
venal and the factious, who sometimes open out
their roaring throats.

The monarch caused a window to be thrown
wide, and advanced upon the balcony. <A tear
of joy trickled down his hollowed cheek. The
child which he carried in his arms seemed, to the
admiring crowd, to wear a smile upon his un-
conscious lips; and his little hand, which was
entangled in the grey beard of his grandsire,
they would have it was playing there by design.
The old king held up towards Heaven this son
which it had bestowed upon his people; and
making a sign that he would speak, an imme-
diate silence succeeded the buzz which had pre-
vailed in the crowd. “ A child is born to all,”
said he. ‘He will love you as I love you.”
Observing near him an old soldier of Navarre,

who could not restrain his tears, “ Be joyous

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 67

and happy, my gallant friend,” added he, with
a tone and bearing that seemed like inspiration.
“ My Lamb has brought forth a Lion * !”

A burst of acclamation and delight, still louder
than the former, welcomed these words of the
monarch. Every approach to the chamber
of the princess was then thrown open by his
orders, that all might come and gaze upon the
child—the hope of his race.

There was in the castle a large tortoise-shell,
which some sailors of Bayonne had formerly
found on a distant shore, and which they had
presented to the princess as one of the curious
productions of the sea. This shell was placed in
a large hall adjoining the chamber of the prin-
cess, and it was in this extraordinary and un-
ostentatious cradle that the old Henry placed his

* Les Espagnols avoient dit autrefois par raillerie sur
la naissance de la mere de notre Henry, “ Miracle! la
vache a fait une brebis,” entendent par ce mot de vache,
la Reine Marguerite, sa mere, car ils ’appelloient ainsi, et
son mary, le vacher, faisant allusion aux armes de Bearn,
qui sont deux vaches. Le Roy Henry se souvenant de
cette froide raillerie des Espagnols, disoit de joye, “‘ Voyez

maintenant, ma brebis a enfantéun Lion !’’—De Perefize,
Gis ps 17.

68 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

new-born namesake. “I choose,” said he, “ that
he should sleepin a cradle the gift of my people ;
he who will one day be called on to wake and
watch over their welfare.” The crowd rushed
once more round the infant prince, and all ad-
mired his strength and beauty. The child was
not at all alarmed at the concourse—a thing
little extraordinary in one just born, but which
the people chose to consider a miracle, as if
some early instinct made him already distinguish
that he was in the midst of his devoted subjects.

Ibarria took this opportunity of approaching
the monarch, holding Enriot by the hand. “ At
this moment of general devotion,” said he, “ my
sovereign will not disdain the offering of his
faithful servant.” Then kneeling, with Enriot
beside him, “ Here, my liege, I give you this
full-grown lad to be the honest follower of this
noble infant, as I have been to your majesty.”
The king, putting his hand on Enriot’s head,
said solemnly, “I bless you, my worthy lad.
Grow up in the steps of your gallant grandsire,
and a better blessing—that of Heaven—will be

with you! And now, Ibarria, you must returm

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 69

me kind for kind. Here, give thy blessing to
this child. The benediction of fidelity and
courage must bring good luck with it.”

Ibarria, with a half-diffident yet affecting so-
lemnity, approached the cradle. He contem-
plated the child for some time in silence, then
bending on one knee he cried, “ I bless thee,
noble infant, hope of the people! Thou wilt be
brave, for thy mother felt thee bounding in her
bosom in the middle of acamp. Thou wilt be
good, for thou wilt resemble thy grandsire.
Thou wilt be just, for thou wilt follow his counsel
and example. Thou wilt be the joy of thy
people, for cries of gladness, and not tears, have
awaited on thy birth! Be blest, then, royal
child! In thee finishes the name of Albret—in
thee begins the name of Bourbon. May this
glorious name become more famous than all the
names of kings; and may God accord to thee
and thy posterity the favours reserved for his
well-beloved !”

Then, drawing his long rapier, Ibarriatouched
the cradle with the blade. ‘ Now it is conse-
erated,” said he, placing the sword in the hands

70 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

of Enriot. “ You will carry it to defend him,
since age disables me.” But Enriot knewnought
of this appeal. From the moment that he felt
the royal hand upon his head, both sense and
feeling seemed to have abandoned their throne.
Heremained fixed on his knees, his eyes fastened
on the floor, his neck bent low, and his arms
crossed upon his breast. He was aroused from
his waking trance by the rough jokes of his
young companions, who had formed a circle
round him; and starting up, confused and
ashamed, he hurried after his grandfather,
whom he saw slowly making his way through —
the crowd. Enriot confessed, in many an after
day, that the memory of this moment—when the
dreams of wealth and ambition had made him
forget awhile humility and love—was his best
preservative against the temptations which many
a time assailed him during life.

Returning towards Jurancon, Enriot wished
to lead his father from the high road, by the
path they had followed in going to Pau. “ No,”
said the old man, “ my heart is filled with joy ;
and there is no room for hatred to find a place

THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV. 7%!

there.” He then walked straight up to the house
of Franke, pushed open the door without knock-
ing, and entered the kitchen. This unlooked-
for visit astonished Franke and his grandaugh-
ter, who were sitting by the fire, late as it was,
conversing with some of their happy neighbours
on the subject of the auspicious birth. Franke
got up, and advanced towards [barria, whom he
did not at first recognize. ‘ Franke,” said the
latter with a faltering voice, and taking him by
the hand, “‘weare old enemies—but older friends.
I forget every thing now but our early regard.
The birth of this prince should reunite all good
royalists, who may perhaps require this union
when the child is big enough to lead them to
battle. Alas! I forget my years. No matter.
Franke, we were once friends—let us be so
again, and always!”

The warm-hearted and generous Franke threw
himself into Ibarria’s arms, exclaiming, “ Oh!
why is she not alive to see this happy hour?
She, who was till death your truest friend !”

While the old men embraced each other, the

whole circle around them shed tears of joy at the

72 THE BIRTH OF HENRY IV.

reconciliation. ‘The news spread quickly over
the neighbourhood. Enriot, who had remarked
Laurinette, married her amidst blessings and re-
joicings; and it is even said that, to this day,
their descendants are prouder of tracing their
ancestry up to such a couple, than of the worldly
distinction which has followed a long course of
industry and virtue.

THE

EXILE OF THE LANDES.

With great courage and elevation of sentiment, he told
the court that “the crime of which he stood accused was
not a deed performed in a corner; the sound of it had
gone forth to most nations ; **** that for no temporal
advantage would he offer injury to the poorest man or
woman that stood upon the earth: * *** and that he had
still, through every danger, held fast his principles and
his integrity.”

Hume’s History or Encianp, vol. vil. p. 356.

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THE
EXILE OF THE LANDES.

Every body has heard of the Landes of
France, and many of my countrymen have tra-
versed them in their route from Paris to the
Pyrenees; but few who have not seen them, or
similar tracts, can form a notion of these mono-
tonous solitudes.

Being unwilling to infringe on the rights of
my brother scribblers, who dress up their loose
thoughts in the form of tours and travels, I shall
not enter into regular description, or details of
distances. I shall content myself with saying,
that the Landes stretch from the Gironde to the
Adour, between north and south—are washed
by the bay of Biscay on the west—and lose
themselves to the eastward, by insensibly min-
gling with the fertile plains of Aire and Ville-
neuve de Marsan. A gazetteer and a map will
tell the rest.

716 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

Extensive pine-woods cover this ocean of
sands. Here and there a hut or a hamlet forms
the centre of a patch of green, on which troops
of ragged sheep or goats are seen to browse;
while the unmeaning look of the being who at-
tends them marks his mental affinity to the
flock, as his sheep-skin mantle gives him an
external similitude.

I left Bordeaux to explore these wastes, on
a summer’s morning, when the first beams of
day were opening on the heavens; and the
birds were shaking off the drowsiness of night,
stretching out their little wings, and arranging
their ruffled plumage—with the coquetry of a
fine lady, settling her dishevelled ringlets, or
the trimming of her cap.

It was then that I was forcibly struck with
the belief that vanity was not peculiar to man-
kind: that the prancing of the steed, the strut
ofthe cock, and the contortions of the monkey,
were but'some of those gradatory shades exhi-
bited by poor mortality from pride to dandyism.
Be it so! thought I; let the brute creation rival

the genus homo, and share with us another of

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES, V7

our privileges.—God knows we often meet them
half-way in coming to a level!

I was roused from the train of thought which
followed these reflections, on finding my pro-
gress impeded by the nature of the soil I trod
on. I was wading through sand, having wan-
dered into one of the by-roads, which branch
off in a hundred directions, on the borders of the
Landes. I made an effort to reconnoitre my po-
sition, but with little success. Around me, on
every side, were tall pines. No vista showed me
the track I had travelled, for the road had wound,
in most irregular meanderings, into this forest.
Above was the dark blue sky, and below the
sandy soil, deep and parched by the meridian
sun. Iwas for a moment a little embarrassed,
but I soon recovered myself. I first looked at
poor Ranger's discontented face, but got no in-
formation there. He was stretched panting at
the foot of a fir-tree, and his eyes were turned on
me, as if asking for refreshment or consolation.

Having utterly lost my way, I had only to re-
mark the direction of my shadow on the ground,

and, making towards an opening which allowed

18 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

this observation, I quickly discovered that it
pointed towards the east. Knowing that the sea
lay in a contrary direction, I was satisfied, and
went onwards, without fear of retracing my steps ;
and coming in a little while to a scanty patch of
herbage, I sat down upon it, and produced from
my wallet my stock of cold meat and bread.
After our repast, which the want of water
rendered rather defective, Ranger and myself
seemed inspired alike with fresh vigour. We
set out again; and while he made some circular
excursions in the wood, fruitlessly hoping to
light on a rivulet or a covey, I plodded onward
in whatever path presented itself on my route.
I calculated on falling in with some strageling
village or hut, where I might repose for the
night, if I found it impracticable to reach La
Teste, a little town on the coast, to which I was
more immediately bound. As I relapsed into
my reverie, I forgot myself again; and I saun-
tered onwards in this mood, until the sun had
sunk in a misty and threatening sky. The earth
was overhung with clouds, and a wind of. evil

omen swept gloomily across the desert, and

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 79

shook the branches of the dark tall pines. I be-
gan now, in good earnest, to look about me, and
increasing my speed ina straight-forward direc-
tion, | reached, in about half an hour, the ex-
tremity of the wood in which I had so long wan-
dered. My path opened out into an almost
boundless plain, but I saw at first no habitation
nor living object. I felt excessively fatigued,
from the heavy sandy soil through which I had
all day laboured. I was also a second time
hungry, and I had besides some inquietudes for
Ranger. Those woods abound with wolves ; and
if night had actually closed in before I got to-
shelter, we might both have been in jeopardy.
While I thus communed with myself, I marked,
on the dusky horizon, two figures of gigantic
height, which I at first thought two isolated fir-
trees bending tothe blast ; but their motion soon
betrayed them to be no inanimate production,
as with long and rapid strides they were quickly
crossing the waste. Determined to bring them
to, I discharged one barrel of my gun. ‘They
stopped; and, as I concluded that they turned
towards me, I quickly fired off the other, and

80 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

then shouted with all my might, at the same
time making towards them. They perceived
me, and strided to meet me, with a speed at
once ridiculous and appalling ; and I may safely
say, that since Gulliver was in Brobdignag, no
traveller had reason to think less of himself.

As they approached, I saw them to be men
mounted on monstrously high stilts, and I then
recollected the accounts I had read and heard of
the shepherds of the Landes. These were the
first specimens which had come within my ob-
servation; and I had, in my abstraction, quite
forgotten what I might so naturally have looked
for.

When these singular beings neared me, I dis-
cerned every particular detail of their appear-
ance and costume. The latter was composed
of a coarse woollen jacket and breeches, loose
at the knees. A round worsted cap, such as is
worn by the Aberdeenshire shepherd, was placed
on the head. Long masses of lank, black hair
flowed over the shoulders, covered with a cloak
of sheep-skin. ‘Their legs were defended with
rude garters of the same, and an uncouth

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 81

caricature of sandals was fastened to their feet.
They both carried long poles, to aid their
march and keep them steady; and they each
actually held in their clumsy hands a coarse
stocking, and a set of knitting rods (I cannot
call them needles); thus putting art and in-
dustry in the only light in which they could ap-
pear a mockery.

They were both about the middle age, if I
might form a judgment from their bushy beards
and furrowed cheeks; but as to their disposi-
tions, capabilities, or propensities (which some
theorists are so fond of discovering at a glance),
I could not even guess. They had faces fit for
the study of Lavater: no one else could have
made any thing of them.

When they came near me, they made a full
stop. I accosted them in French, and asked if
they could direct me to an inn, which I under-
stood was somewhere in those parts?

A negative shake of the head was their reply.

I next demanded if I was near La Teste?

The answer was repeated.

I then begged them to inform me whether

VOL. Il. G

82 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

there was any cottage at hand, where I might
obtain shelter ?

A positive “no” seemed shaken from each
silent head.

I thought this the acme of inhospitality, and
so unlike what I had met hitherto in the coun-
try, that I could scarcely credit my senses; but
the immoveable and petrifying unsociability of
the faces J gazed on confirmed the worst, and I
wished for a moment that I were with a couple
of Bedouin Arabs, on their native deserts.

During our short conversation, of which I
had all the words, and they the eloquence (as
far as it lies in action), I could not trace a change
of muscle or variation of expression in their
countenances. To finish the fruitless and un-
comfortable conference, I rather abruptly asked
them where I was?

A silent shake of the head left me as wise as
before.

It was not till then that I began to suspect,
what my intelligent readers will by this time, no
doubt, be sure of—that the poor shepherds did
not comprehend one word of my discourse. No

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 83

sooner did this notion strike me, than I strung
together such words of Gascon as I had picked
up during my sojourn in the Perigord; but it
was now quite as useless as French had been;
and I had a new proof of the truth, that in this
part of France each district has its patois per-
fectly distinct, and scarcely to be understood by
the inhabitants of parts almost adjacent. I was
thus at length reduced to that universal and
natural language, in which fingers supply the
use of tongues, and gestures that of sounds.
I pointed out, by every possible intimation, my
wants of eating and repose. Bless your bright
intellects! thought I, as one of them gave me a
significant, assenting nod, which was silently
echoed by the pate of his companion. They
then muttered something to each other; and
fulfilling the strict forms of desert etiquette,
they advanced in mincing strides, beckoning
me to follow their guidance.

Ranger and I gladly took the hint. Our con-
ductors moderated their pace ; weincreased ours,
and thus contrived to producea harmony ofmove-
ment. I shall not weary the reader with a de-

, ge

84 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

tail of our march for the first half hour, which
was beguiled by the shepherds, by a commu-
nication in their own peculiar jargon, and by
Ranger and his master in the selfsame way.

As we went on, in a westwardly direction, the
wind blew fiercely, but not freshly, in our faces.
It was hot and smothering. The labouring skies
seemed preparing to discharge their overloaded
breasts, and distant thunder rolled along the
horizon, still reddened by the departed sun. The
masses of clouds which came upon the earth
quickly shut out the day, and rose at opposite
extremities into huge mountains of vapour.
They were illuminated by fitful flashes of light-
ning, and looked like giant batteries erected in
the heavens. As they rushed onwards from the
west, they shot down vivid streams, which at
times pierced to the very earth, like quivering
blades of fire. Again the electric fluid took a
horizontal direction through the skies; and its
dazzling streak fluttered like a radiant streamer,
till it lost itself among the clouds. Darkness
came on with a suddenness suchas [ had never
before observed, and the gusts of wind were ter-

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 85

rific. They swept across the waste like floods
of air, lashing the sands like waves, and bearing
down all before them. Every single-standing
tree within our sight was shivered into atoms;
but the crash, when these whirlwinds met the
opposition of the pine-woods, baffles description.
It appeared as if whole chasms were rent away
in the forest; and between each blast we heard
the howling of the wolves, terrified at the storm,
or probably wounded by the shattered branches,
and angry with the element, which must have
dashed them at intervals to the earth.

As for me, my guides, and my poor dog, we
were in the opening of the tempest repeatedly
thrown to the ground. The shepherds were
early obliged to quit their stilts, and I found
them in every way onalevel with me. Their ex-
perience furnished them no resource that I had
not at hand; and when at length a desperate
gust whirled us round like spinning-tops, I flung
myself prostrate on the sands; one hand encir-
cling Ranger, who clung trembling to my bosom,
and the other grasping the stem of a newly-
shattered fir-tree. ‘The shepherds followed my

86 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

example, and throughout the whole scene showed
less presence of mind than stupid apathy.

This magnificent and awful war of nature
continued about twenty minutes. ‘The wind
then dropped suddenly still, as if forced from
the heavens by the torrents of rain which poured
upon us. We raised ourselves up, and the
shepherds pursued their course. They mounted
again upon their stilts, and I followed their
track. Reiterated claps of thunder burst di-
rectly over our heads, and the broad lightnings
gleamed in liquid sheets through the sea of rain
which every cloud cast down.

I was nearly overpowered with fatigue, for
the wet sand was to me almost impassable ;
while my wooden-legged companions found but
little obstruction from it. My delight may then
be imagined when I saw them stop suddenly be-
fore a house, which the darkness of the night
prevented my observing, till we were actually
against its wall. They shouted together, and
the door was cautiously half-opened by a woman
with a resin taper in her hand.

At the welcome prospect of the open door,

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 87

our whole party made a simultaneous rush for
entrance. Ranger, who was the first on the
threshold, had searcely put his foot there when
a huge shaggy dog, of a breed peculiar to the
Landes, darted upon him, seized him by the
throat, and tossed him to the ground. | used,
for a while, every effort to tear the ruffian from
his hold, and called vociferously to the woman to
take him off; but the demand being unheeded
or unheard, I cocked my gun, and by a desperate
threat (which the drenched state of the piece
made probably very harmless) I strove to alarm
the house for the safety of its guardian. I saw
several men seated within, who took my appeal
with indifference; and, resolved in my rage to
attempt the perpetration of my threat, I was in
the act of putting my finger to the trigger, when
my arm was forcibly seized from behind, and I,
at the same time, thus accosted: ‘‘ Young man,
what would you do? Shoot that animal, and
you are sure to die upon the spot!”

“ Let me go,” cried I, with impatience ; * my
dog is strangling in the gripe of that monster—
by heavens! I ’1l1——;” but before my sentence

88 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

was finished, the savage had loosed his hold,
and was fawning at the foot of the man who
had spoken to me. |
A word from him had saved Ranger, his as-
sailant, and, if this stranger was to be believed,
perhaps myself. Ranger crouched between my
legs, as I reproached the man for keeping a dog
so dangerous. He calmly replied, “ The dog is
not mine—but he only did his duty. He belongs
to the people of this house ; and the group within
would certainly have revenged any harm done
to him. Permit me to say you are now in a
region where prudence is a useful virtue.”
There was a tone of softness and benevolence
in this address; and the light from the house
showed me his figure as he spoke. He was tall,
and wrapped in a large blue Spanish cloak,
fastened at the collar with a silver clasp. He
wore a handsome fur-cap. His face was quite
in unison with his voice—dignified and tender.
I was much struck with his appearance and
manner; and expressed my thanks for his in-
terference, and for the service he had done me.
* Ah! sir,” said he, “ you know not how much

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 89

I owe a life of servitude to mankind. This poor
deed weighs light in the balance against a load
of crime.”

He seized my hand as he said this, and pressed
it hard, without seeming to know what he did.
He as suddenly let it drop—started back—
pulled his cap upon his brow—muffled himself
in his cloak, and turned from me.

“ Good God, sir!” cried I, “ you are not
surely going out in this dreary night 2”

“ Yes, sir, I am,” replied he sternly, ‘“‘ and
let me see who dares to follow me!”

I stared after him, but he was lost in the
darkness. I felt a thrill of curiosity, admira-
tion, and, I believe, awe; but I turned in a mo-

ment, and entered the house.

90 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

CHAPTER IL.

My first impulse was to address the woman,
whose bustling mien pronounced her to be mis-
tress of the mansion ; while the whole decoration
of the kitchen, in which I stood, stamped upon
the house itself the joyous character of an inn.
To my rapid question of “ Who was the gentle-
man that has just gone out?” I got at first no
reply. ‘The hostess eyed me from head to foot,
with an unflattering and suspicious look. The
four or five rough fellows near the fire stood up
and gathered round me. I appeared not to heed
their curiosity, and persisted for the gratification
of my own. I repeated my question.

“ And pray, my friend,” asked the hostess,
“what business is that of yours? Who are you ?
A spy, perhaps, sent here to entrap a better
man.”

“Tt seems so,”—“ like enough,” and other

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 91

such expressions, were echoed from the group
by which I was encircled; and I saw there was
no friendly feeling towards me breeding among
the party. “ Foreigner!” and “ Englishman!”
and “ sacre” and “ peste!” and exclamations of
like import were sent mutteringly round ; and,
knowing that prevention is easier than cure, I
thought it wise to avert a storm which I might
not be able to allay. Assuming, therefore, an
air of frankness and confidence, which I never
knew to fail, which I never saw even a gloomy
group of Spaniards able to withstand, but which
acts like a spell on the sociable disposition of the
French, I told shortly my situation and pursuits.
I convinced them that I was neither a spy nor
an enemy; that my inquiries concerning the
mysterious stranger proceeded from gratitude
and good will ;—and I was in five minutes seated
down among them, quite one of themselves, and
placed, by acclamation, in the warmest corner
of the chimney. Similar regard was shown to
Ranger, who stretched himself in great enjoy-
ment before the crackling faggots, happily for-
getful of the roughness of his first reception.

92 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

Many civilities were showered on me, in the
shapes of sundry articles of dress (my knap-
sack and its contents being wet through and
through), drams from the brandy bottle, and in-
numerable kind speeches and offers of service.

Having got myself dry and warm, a craving
appetite was next to be gratified. I asked the
good and handsome hostess what I could have;
and she said that Bordeaux contained few de-
licacies which she could not give me as well. A
long list of luxuries followed this assurance, and
her tongue ran glibly over the niceties of a
traiteur’s ordinary catalogue. But, lest I should
be led away by hopes of these proffered dainties,
one of the jovial fellows, who sipped a twopenny
bottle of wine beside me, threw me a knowing
wink, as much as to say that mine hostess had
only a poetical licence for offering the good things
recapitulated ; and that ortolans, Bayonne ham,
truffled turkies, and perigord pie, existed only
in the larder of her imagination. As to me this
was but little disappointment, for my appetite
could ill brook the delay of such high-sounding

preparations; and my eye seemed to turn in

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 93

natural humility to viands more homely, and
more appropriate to the place.

Thanking the good lady, therefore, for the
civil list with which she had been willing to
cherish my expectations and regale my fancy, I
begged her to give me a supper more suitable to
present circumstances and pedestrian travellers.
In a moment a coarse, but clean,clothand napkin
graced my little table. A bottle of sour wine, a
decanter of muddy water, a loaf of brown bread,
full three feet in length, a salt-cellar filled with
salt, and another with pepper, aplate, a drinking-
glass, a heavy, ill-formed silver fork and spoon,
and a knife, which the clumsiest apprentice of
Birmingham would be ashamed to own, were
quickly scattered before me—in the fullest spirit
of that want of order, which so peculiarly marks
the preparation for a French repast.

My bustling landlady was aided in every thing
by a rosy, smooth-faced lass, ina close and stiff
starched cap, blue bodice, and red woollen pet-
ticoat ; and in a little while they placed on the
table a small earthern tureen, whose brown ex-

terior was not a shade more dark than the mess

04. THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

of soup which smoked within, and which sent
up a savoury fume, where the odour of garlic had
a proud pre-eminence. An omelet of six eggs,
mixed well with herbs of all varieties, was already
in the frying-pan, and the plump brown arm of
Cazille was stretched out to place it on the fire.
The hostess’s hand was in the act of cutting
from a string of black puddings one whose di-
mensions seemed suited to a Patagonian mouth.
I was preparing with my spoon to dive into the
cloud-enveloped mysteries of the tureen, when
all our operations were suspended, and all our
attentions roused by the tramping of a horse,
and a loud accompanying shout from a voice of
stentorian tone.

“Heavens!” exclaimed the landlady, “ It is
Monsieur the Inspector of the forests !”

Monsieur the Inspector!

The Inspector!
Inspector !

Spectre !
was re-echoed by every mouth, from Cazille’s
down to my own, in all the gradations from sur-
prise to inquiry. Ranger himself filled up the

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 95

climax by a note, which might be something
between admiration and interrogation. Every
one started up and made towards the door, carry-
ing with them all the candles and resin matches
which the kitchen had alight. The string of
black puddings dangled uncut upon the wall—
the embryo omelet was upset into the fire—and
the spoonful of soup remained untasted in my
hand. |

This moment of awful suspense was followed
by the entrance of the important personage, to
whom such unconditional homage had been ren-
dered by mistress and maid, man and beast,
black pudding and omelet. Monsieur the In-
spector came bustling in, with that air of moist-
ened dignity, which sits so naturally on a great
man, drenched with rain.

He was a broad-set figure, with dusky skin
and frizzled whiskers of vast expansion. His
huge jackboots, redoubled doubles of silk hand-
kerchiefs, and a multitude of many collared coats,
had been all unable to secure him from the wet.
He streamed like a river God, from the rowels of

his spurs up to every corner of his large cocked

96 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

hat. In each hand he carried a pistol, and as he
strode forwards to the fire, a long sabre rattled
against the tiles of the floor.

He made his way over every obstacle, upset-
ting two chairs, a warming-pan, and a basket of
fish. Every one made way for him, so that he
was not long in reaching the wide and comforta-
ble hearth. It must not be supposed that all
this was done in silent majesty—no such thing.
Every step was accompanied by an exclamation,
and every exclamation echoed by an oath.

“ What a night of hell! **** ! What a
rascally storm! * * * * *! What diabolical
weather! ***** 1!”

The asterisks stand for oaths; I am literal in
every thing else, but they, thank God! defy
translation. Of these disgraces of the language,
and the peculiar scandal of this part of France,
he was most prodigal, and would have reminded
every reader of Gresset’s Vert-vert, of the foul-
mouthed parrot, when

Les » les , voltigeaient sur son bec,
Les jeunes sceurs crurent qu ‘il parlait Grec.

The Inspector rapidly disencumbered himself

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. OF

of all extraneous matter, flung aside his great
coat, hat, boots, pistols, belt, and sabre; and
almost threw himself into the embraces of the
flames, which the crackling pinewood sent out
in broad folds across the chimney. I was so
much amused with the scene, that I suspended
all my projected operations, and fixed my at-
tention on this new object.

He was at first gruff and surly, receiving
without any acknowledgment, but an occasional
curse, the officious attentions of the landlady and
Cazille, and the humble addresses of the men
around him. He flung himself into the arm-
chair which was placed for him, and, his back
being towards me, he quite overlooked me sitting
in my nook. As the warmth of the blaze dried
up his exterior it seemed to melt his heart, for
he threw a “ thankye” at the hostess, as she
adjusted the second worsted stocking round
his knee; and he chucked Cazille under the
chin, and kissed her forehead, while she stooped
to place the slippers on his feet.

The rest of the party came in for their share
of kindness, in the way that follows. “ And

VOL, Il. H

98 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

who have we here, eh? A gang of blackguard
smugglers, ****! Oh! I begpardon, gentlemen
—fishermen ! Egad, one might have known your
trade by your smell, ** **! Stand back, friends ;
I hate perfumery. Well! what have you got
in your baskets to-night? Turbot and brandy
sauce, ****! I°ll warrant it the bottoms are as
well lined with bottles of Cognac, as the tops
with stinking mackerel, ****! But take care;
Ill give a hint to the Octroi*, be sure of it;
and if you are once caught at the barrier you
shall lie in the Fort + till you are as withered
and rotten as a piece of salted cod, ****!”

A burst of laughter from the speaker pro-
nounced this to be wit; and an answering peal
from his circle told that they knew the time to
acknowledge his joke. Several smart and plea-
sant sayings were retorted on the inspector; but
the most substantial repartee, that is the best of
the good thing's, appeared in the shape of a noble
turbot, which one of the fishermen produced

* The toll-house.
+ The prison of Bordeaux is an old castle called the
Fort du Ha, but familiarly “ The Fort.”

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 99

from his stock. This spokesman “ hoped, in the
name of himself and comrades, that Monsieur
the Inspector would do them the honour of ac-
cepting the fish, and give himself the trouble of
smelling it, to be sure that it was fresh.”

‘“©*#***! one cant refuse,”

was the reply;
and he pulled out his purse, as with a would-be
effort, to pay for the compliment.

“Oh! oh! oh!” cried the fishermen in con-
cert, “ what is Monsieur the Inspector going to
do? Pay for it! Always like himself, generous
and noble! No, no, no! It’s the least we can
do for monsieur; and we shall be too well re-
warded, if he will do us the honour of giving
himself the trouble to write a little word to the
gentlemen of the Octroi at Bordeaux, to let us
pass the barrier without search, that we may
get to the market early, and pull up for the
time we have lost in the storm.”

* Oh, willingly!” cried Monsieur the In-
spector. “ God forbid I should refuse so slight
a kindness to such honest fellows as I know you
all to be. Give mea pen, Cazille! But hark’ye,
my friends! you are sure there is no brandy ©”
H2

i00 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

“ My word of honour!” burst from every
mouth.

“ Hold!” cried the inspector, tender of their
consciences, *‘ Hold, don’t finish the sentence,
my good fellows! I know you are honest,
healthy-lunged lads, and you’ll want all your
breath to puff off your fish to the fat merchants
of the Chartrons * to-morrow. ‘There! (giving
the paper). But, hark’ye, stuff the sea-weed
well to the bottom; I thought I heard the
shaking of glass in that basket.”

“* Nothing, nothing, monsieur, on my word of
honour!” protested one of the party, “ but two
or three bottles of salt water, acure for Madame
Depuis at the Red Cross. Monsieur knows,

9?

perhaps, that Madame Depuis’ legs are
“ Yes, yes,—very well,—I know it all. Be
off! Be off! the moon is up, and I want my
supper. Cazille, prepare that turbot for your
mistress’s master-hand. You’ll find a*fresh
bottle of capers in my saddle-bags.”
« Adieu!” “ Good night!” “* Safe journey!”

* The rich and commercial quarter of Bordeaux, lying
near the river.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 101

&c. &c. were bandied backwards and forwards ;
and as the fishermen reloaded their little carts
with the baskets, which they had placed in the
house to shelter them from the rain, I thought
the care with which they lifted them up denoted
a cargo more brittle than flat fish, and more
valuable than a couple of bottles of salt water.

I came at length under the eye of the in-
spector, who seemed for an instant disconcerted,
but as soon recovered his swaggering mien. He
examined meas keenly as if he had been going
to strip the bark or lop the branches off a fir-
tree. He next turned his looks towards the
landlady and Cazille, and I saw that a stified
inquiry was lurking under his eyelid, and trem-
bling on his tongue.

Fond of being first in the field, I addressed
him, and proposed in civil terms that he would
partake of my supper. A curl of contempt stole
over his lip, as he exclaimed, “ Supper, ****!
And has madame then nothing better to give
her guests than Spartan broth and water of the
(Tiber :” )

The landlady was preparing her defence, but
he cut her short with “No excuse—not a word

102 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

—'tis infamous! Cazille, place another cover at
my table, ****! must travellers be served in
this way? You have read the Greek and Roman
histories, sir?”

I bowed assent.

“ Well, sir, if you cannot sup with Apicius,
you shall not fare like Lycurgus, depend on’t
You are English, sir?”

I replied that I was a subject of his Britannic
Majesty.

“So much the better,” replied he; “I love
the English. Many a fat capon our king owes
to yours. ‘This is the time to stick to one’s
friends, ****! and the king of England’s sub-
ject shall sup to-night with the king of France’s
inspector of forests. Come along! Make haste,
madame! Cazille, light us in!”

I promptly accepted the uncouth bidding. I
thought the inspector was a precious morsel
for such an appetite as mine; and as I followed
him down a narrow passage leading to an inner
chamber, our ears were assailed with a storm
of snoring, which it seemed utterly impossible
to sleep through.

«**%%*! what do I hear?” cried the in-

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 103

spector. “ Is the thunder at work again, or is
it your lazy slug-a-bed of a husband that thus
outrages all decency? Whatho! Batiste! awake,
you brute!”

This obliging reveillée was speedily replied
to by a hoarse and feeble voice, and by a bound
upon the planks of a room above stairs, as if the
sleeper had shot out of bed in sudden terror—
as well he might.

A red night-cap quickly protruded itself from
a door at the top of the stairs, and a red nose,
projecting far from a thin, but rubricated visage,
snufiled out a welcome, as imperfect as the ex-
clamations of a troubled dream. At length we
comprehended some such wordsas these. “Aha!
Monsieur the Inspector! Aha! I have been
watching for you. I knew the steady-going
trot of your horse; old Trois-pied’s hoof could
not escape me. Ay, ay, I heard you humming
your favourite air (singing),

L’on revient toujours
A ses premiers amours.

Aha! I knew we might look for you this fine

moonlight night.”

104 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

“ Away, thou shadow of an impudent lie!”
vociferated the inspector. “ The trot of my
horse, forsooth! I galloped atleast three leagues
through the forest, and came up at full speed to
the house. Humming my favourite air, ****!
the wind was near forcing open my fast-closed
mouth, and choking me with my own teeth!
This moonlight night! The moon is shining
now, ‘tis true; but the moon is not falser than
your flattery, nor the clouds it broke through
thicker than your skull. Why, madame, why
do you let the dog lie thus through storm and
fair weather, scaking in his bed 2”

“ Alas! Monsieur the Inspector, what else
can I do with him? ’Tis the only place where
he’s good for any thing.”

“ And not for much there even, I’ll warrant
it, ****” cried the inspector.

The jest-proclaiming laugh burst out at this
sally, and he paused for a moment for the echo.
The fishermen were unluckily gone; I did not
take the cue; the hostess thought the subject
too serious for merriment; Cazille could only

give a significant but silent smile ;—so poor

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 105

Batiste, who knew the inspector’s humour, was
obliged himself to reverberate the laugh. Having
forced out a drowsy titter, he disappeared ; and
before we were seated in the inspector’s room I
heard him snoring away, as merrily as if he had
not been aware of the interruption.

The chamber into which we were ushered
was one of more comfort than was promised by
the other parts of the house. It was low but
spacious, boarded, and cleanly papered. ‘I'wo
beds, with white cotton hangings, filled a recess ;
the furniture was neat, and a joyous blaze sprang
up from the pine-wood faggots, which took fire
like tinder.

A table had been placed for supper, by the
quiet assiduity of Cazille; and the difference
which it presented to the one intended forme was
striking. Every thing was of a finer and better 7
order: the bread was white, the water filtered,
and the arrangement had altogether an air of
costliness in comparison with that which I had
left. We seated ourselves by the fire, which
even at that hot season was not unpleasant; for
the house lay low and damp, and the late torrents

106 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

had nearly set it afloat. We soon got into con-
versation on public topics, which, however, were
speedily suspended for one of more immediate
interest—the private history of my companion;
with every particular which he chose to reveal, of
his birth, parentage, education, and adventures.

With not one of these details do I mean to
gratify my inquisitive (or ’twere perhaps better
said my curious) readers. It is enough to know
that the narrator had been for many years a
serjeant of hussars, and was now an inspector of
forests. He had served, he told me, in many
campaigns, from the sands of Egypt to the snows
of Russia; had been known to and noticed by
all the marshals, and most of the generals; had
performed on many occasions prodigies of va-
lour; and, to crown the business, had received
thirteen wounds, which all the surgeons had
successively pronounced mortal, but none of
which had proved so as yet.

Now my little knowledge of life has taught
me, as a positive lesson, rarely to believe more
than half what I hear; and whenever I chance to
light on a member of the Munchausen family, my

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 107

credulity diminishes again one half. In this case
I should not perhaps have believed so much as
the fourth of what was told me, had I not counted
one scar on the inspector’s forehead, one across
his face, and saw that he was minus a finger
from the left hand. That made fairly three
wounds, which was the fourth of thirteen, all
but a fraction, and that I made up by giving
him credit for a spent ball, or some such slighter
hurts in parts to me invisible.

Thad thus satisfied myself that the inspector
had fairly made out his title to that proportion
of belief, which gave him the right of being re-
garded as a credible witness; and while I was
occupied with the calculation, the supper was
gradually appearing under the auspices of the
hostess and Cazille; the former more than ful-
filling the promise of her first bill of fare.

I am here held in doubt between the desire
of recording our excellent cheer, and the know-
ledge of the effect produced by leavingimportant
Well! [have
decided the point to my own satisfaction, and I
hope to that of myreaders. I wild describe the

incidents involved in mystery.

108 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

supper, for I think the sin of amplification mere
venial than that of neglect.

First, then, came a soup of really good ma-
terials, known to the lovers of French cookery
by the title d la Julienne, and only approached
in Great Britain by Scotch broth, and that di-
stantly indeed. A piece of bouilli flowing in
tomata sauce, and a large melon with salt and
pepper succeeded. A plate of Bordeaux oysters
followed, and I am borne out by a work*, well
known to fame, in pronouncing them unrivalled.
Next came mutton cutlets, dressed d la maitre
@hotel. ‘Then the turbot, flooded with melted
butter, and thickly strewn with capers. Next a
brace of partridges stewed in cabbage, a favourite
dish in these parts, and in high odour with the
inspector. After that a capon richly stuffed with
truffles ; then another plate of oysters; then four
ortolans, so fat, that they seemed to melt before
the inspector’s longing gaze. Nexta large dish
of custard, with a tart of raspberry, or currants,
I forget which; and finally a dessert of grapes,
green figs, peaches, and Roquefort cheese ; with

* Lord Blaney’s Forced Tour.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 109

a plate of royans, a little fish, not inferior nor
less esteemed than sardignias. To moisten well
this feast, were bottles of various kinds of wine
of the country. During supper, Barsac and
Sauterne ; specimens of all the best growths of
Medoc, from Lafitte to Léoville, with the des-
sert; and after it a bumper of that luscious
liqueur the sweet white wine of Bergerac.

When enough had been disposed of, of solid
and liquid enjoyment, a cup of strong coffee,
followed by a glass of Annisette, from the au-
thentic and unadulterated still of Messrs. Roger,
of Bordeaux, concluded our repast—on the
merits of which it would not be becoming in
me to pronounce any judgment.

Our conversation during the period thus oc-
cupied was short and pithy. The words were
few, but well chosen, and seldom stretched to
a sentence of greater length than “ Excellent !”
“Very good!” “ Not bad!” “ Another slice?”
“ Help yourself.” ‘ Devilish hot!” and some
others of the same tenor.

Two things surprised me in this supper. The
excellence of the provisions, and the merit of the

110 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

cookery. But to relieve my readers’ astonish-
ment in much less time than my own was re-
moved, I shall teil now that my hospitable en-
tertainer had for his greatest failing, if it was
one, a love of good living, which his situation
allowed him amply to indulge; that he was in
the constant habit of sending a stock of delica-
cies to this miserable inn, a day or two before
his visits of inspection; and that the landlady
had been established in the house, by his par-
ticular patronage, because of her talents in the
arts of the kitchen, and for other reasons, which,
being of a private nature, Iam sure not one
reader in a thousand would give a pin to know.

I had been hungry, and ate heartily; but be-
fore the prowess of the inspector my efforts were
feeble indeed. Not one dish escaped his inves-
tigation; he drank in proportion; and at many
intervals [ saw him slip his hand under the nap-
kin, which he had atthe commencement carefully
tucked under his chin. A short and convulsive
snap followed each of these movements, which
puzzled me much, until, on his throwing away
his napkin, with the last change of plates, I per-

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. ais

ceived his waistcoat unbuttoned and buttonless,
from bottom to top; and [I easily divined that
he had made successive but too dilatory efforts
to relieve himself, by what is in the technical
phrase of epicurean philoso—no, philology,
called letting out a reef.

Being at length fairly freed from the labours
of the table, and settled quietly to a bottle of
exquisite claret, I turned my attention to what
was after all my main object in this convivial
téte-d-téte. Thad not, for one moment, forgotten
the mysterious and interesting stranger, who
had so forcibly fixed my attention, and excited
my curiosity. I had from prudence suspended
my efforts to obtain information from the hostess
or the fishermen, but was resolved to renew
them, when the abrupt entrance of the inspector
had stopped the development of my plans.
After a little while, I thought that he himself
might become the means of affording me the in-
formation for which [ panted. ‘Thus in our con-
versation before supper, I had endeavoured, from
time to time, to lead him on to the subject of
local concerns, but to every attempt of that kind

112 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

I had an evasive answer. If I spoke of the coun-
try we were in, he said he knew little of home,
and that soldiers were more familiar with the
field of battle than their native plains. If I men-
tioned any striking domestic event, he always
quoted some cotemporary action,—Marengo, the
Pyramids, Jena, Austerlitz, and so forth; and
when I spoke of dates, it was always “ yes, yes,
I was then making the campaign of Germany—
Portugal—Moscow—or some other.”

His loquacity and boasting always baffled me,
and when Cazille had finally closed the door,
leaving us to our claret, he burst out in a new
but not less fluent ebullition.

“ Well, sir, have you been able to sup?” I
paid all due acknowledgment to the good fare.

«* Well, well, I do believe that after all the
disasters we have suffered, and with all our faults,
the world will not deny us the glory of knowing
what’s good,****! Ros-bif, bifteck, blom-poid-

ing, and Woich-rabet*, are all very well in their

* Such is the orthography used by Mons. Beauvilliers,
who would introduce roast beef, beef steak, plum pudding
and Welsh rabbit, to his countrymen.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 113

way, ****! but when you put them beside a
peitt paté ad la bechamel, a dish of carpe a la
matelote, a téle de veau en tortue—et cetera, et
cetera, et cetera, **** ! Whata figure they cut!
II tell you what, sir, your nation knows nothing
of cookery. An Englishman in Paris is no
better than a Scythian at Athens, ****! Sir,
you eat your meat raw, and call that cookery !
So does an American Indian, or an African
negro. You despise the arts of the kitchen,
****! But you forget that Gallienus, though
an emperor, was chiefly famed for his culinary
knowledge ;—and that Cadmus, the great-great-
grandfather of Bacchus, and founder of Thebes,
began his career by being cook to the king of
Sidon! Do you know, sir, that to fulfil such an
honourable station, ’tis not enough to have the
finest constitution, the purest health, and your
senses in the utmost perfection ; but the brightest
talents must be joined to knowledge the most
profound? Idon’t speak, * * **! of the dirty-
work of your kitchen, I only show myself there
to direct the action of the fire, and to see the
effect of my operations, * * * * ! Seated in an ad-
VOL, II. , I

~

114 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

joining room, I give my orders, ****! which
my subaltern workmen execute. I muse on the
productions of nature, leaving them sometimes
in their exquisite simplicity; again arranging
and disguising them according to new propor-
tions, and fitting them to flatter the palate. Do
you wish, for example, a sucking pig, or a large
piece of beef? I simply boil the one and roast
the other! Must you have a well-dressed hare ?
If itis young, ****! it wants nothing but its
merit to make it appear with distinction and
honour.—I put it on the spit, and serve it up
smoking hot! But it is in the depth of combina-
tion, ****! that my science is most sublime.

”
e

Salt, pepper, oil, and vinegar

“ Hold, hold in mercy, my good sir,” cried I,
astonishment, I amcertain, stamped on my coun-
tenance, for it filled my brain. ‘ This burst of
eloquence and erudition is too much for me.
You could not have been more at home had you
been yourself a cook.”

<*#***! What:do you say, ****! A cook,
****!__T am a Frenchman, an officer, a man
of honour, one of the inspectors of the royal

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 115

forests, highways, and bridges, * ***! What do
you mean ? * *** |”

At this tremendous explosion of indignant
and irritated honour, my companion bounced
up and thumped the table with his clenched fist,
loud enough to alarm and bring in the landlady
and Cazille, and sufficient to have awakened any
one of the seven-sleepers—whose name was not
Batiste. ‘The glasses rung, and the decanters
danced on the board. The hand that produced
such powerful effects was next instinctively
clapped upon the thigh, where fortunately the
sabre was not; so the inspector had no remedy
but to seize his glass, and wash down the
imagined insult, which he had not the imme-
diate means of wiping away ina more becoming
manner.

The appearance of the hostess and her hand-
maid brought him to himself, and calmed in
a moment the transports of offended feeling.
Having paid this involuntary tribute of devotion
to the influence of female charms, he ordered
them to retire in a tone more fitting a high-
priest than a votary. They obeyed the man-

12

116 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

date, and I, findmg the moment favourable,
uietly told him many civil things in explanation
of what I had said. He received the atonement,
and the matter dropped; and I, thinking the
opportunity favourable, turned the conversation
abruptly to the object of my chief solicitude.

“ And pray, Monsieur the Inspector,” said I,
“is this large tract of desert solely inhabited by
miserable shepherds and goat-herds ?”

The inspector shook himself a moment, as if
this sudden transition from sharp to flat had
grated on his well-organised mind.

Recovering himself, he replied, “ Eh! why!
yes, ****! and much worse than shepherds and
goat-herds, believe me. Why do I travel armed
through these tracts, eh? Do you think I carry
pistols and sabre for show? ****!”

‘ You fear robbers, then?” asked I.

“ Fear! ****?” vociferated the inspector,
“ what’s fear? * ***! [ve often heard talk of
fear, but never knew it yet.”

I explained away once more, and he was once
more appeased.

“ Yes,” replied he, to a less offensive way in

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 117,

putting my former question; “ yes, there are
robbers here sometimes, but I never meet them.
These fellows know their men, ****! But
there are worse than robbers—refugees, revo-
lutionists, republicans, * ** *! who plunge into
these forests and escape the law. Had I my
way with the scoundrels, Id set fire to the pine
woods, ** **! and consume the rascals with
pitch, tar, and resin—provided the king gave
me another forest, * * * * !”

Here came in the laugh of acknowledged
drollery, with which I was now familiar, and
even inclined to join in to keep the inspector in
good humour. I resumed the conversation.

“ Fiave persons of any rank or importance
found shelter here for political opinions 2”

« Ay, that they have—and find it at this mo-
ment too. There is now, this very night, one
man lurking in these deserts, whose head would.
pay for the trouble of arresting him, * * * * !”

A tall man,” said I hastily, and without a
moment’s thought, “in a Spanish cloak and fur
cap ?”

“He is a tall man certainly, but as for the

118 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

cloak and cap, they have little to do with his
description. If you met him in that dress to-
day, you might see him wrapped in a sheep-
skin to-morrow, * * ** !”

«“ A handsome, dark, noble-looking man,
about fifty?” was my next inquiry.

“ Ay, all that,” replied my companion. “ He’s
handsome enough outside—but as gloomy as his
complexion within. As for his nobility, it is all
in his looks, ****! for he’s no more noble
than I am.”

*T have met such a man,” said I, recovering
my caution. “ What is the crime which forces
him into these wilds?”

“Tl tell you that,” said he; and I was pre-
pared to listen with my whole attention, when
we were both attracted towards the kitchen, by
the noise of persons dismounting from their

horses, and entering the house.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 119

CHAPTER III.

“ Wuo the devil can this be at this hour of
night?” cried the inspector. ‘ Hold, let’s listen
a moment.”

I had my hand on the latch of the door, but
he seized it as he spoke. In spite of myself, I
did for this once, what must be, in any circum-
stances, considered an unworthy thing ; and the
instrument which compelled me, that was the
inspector, did not rise in my estimation.

“ Ah! madame, is it you?” cried the land-
lady.

“‘ He is here! my dear father is here!” ex-
claimed, in a tone half questioning, half certain,
one of the sweetest voices I had ever heard.

“ Hush!” said the landlady ; and a low whis-
per followed. I was more delighted at it than
if | had heard a long and valuable secret. I

fancied I saw in an instant through the whole

120 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

affair. The lovely inquirer, felt I (for some-
thing told me that tones so sweet must have pro-
ceeded from a beauteous instrument, and what-
ever it was which said so told no lie), the lovely
inquirer, prompted by duty and affection, has
wandered here through this drear desert, to meet
her proscribed and virtuous father—for such a
being could not reverence or hold communion
with guilt. My presence drove the sufferer from
his shelter; and this coarse inspector is one of
those prowling wretches, which we are told all
governments must employ, lying in wait to
pounce upon his victim.

** Not now, at least,” said I, throwing aside his
iron hand, which grasped my arm, flinging open
the door, and runninginto the kitchen. A scream
burst from the lady, who was young, and indeed
most beautiful. The hostess and Cazille gazed
on me with astonishment, mixed with alarm;
and the inspector himself, who followed close
upon me, did not know what to think of my
abruptness ;—and, fora moment, as he told me
afterwards, returned upon me the compliment

which my suspicions had affixed to him.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 121

I advanced towards the lady, and was going
to address her, God knows how! when a young
man, of distinguished deportment, rushed in,
attracted from the stables, by the scream of his
lovely wife; and with fire in his eyes, which
were fixed upon me and the inspector, and
trembling tenderness in his accents, he called
out, “ What’s this, dearest Stephanie? what has
happened 2”

‘“‘ Nothing, nothing,” replied she, “ but this

29
'°

gentleman

“ What has he dared to do?” cried he, ad-
vancing fiercely towards me. I made some con-
fused apology for my awkward intrusion, which
I saw wasreceived inrather a shy and suspicious
way. I never made an explanation less to my
own satisfaction, and was not surprised that it
was so little to theirs. I got no reply, and re-
tired a few paces, while the inspector advancing,
addressed the stranger with humble familiarity,
by a name which it is not necessary to mention
here.

The young man received his address with in-
finite haughtiness, and areproachful look, which

122 THE EXILE-OF THE LANDES.

seemed to me to say, “ you have betrayed us.”
The other made a nearer approach, and in a
lower tone appeared to defend himself from the
reproach of a connexion with me. I was little
flattered by all this, and full as anxious as the
inspector appeared, to cut the slender thread
which bound our acquaintance.

Advancing, therefore, to the door, I looked
out upon the desert, and thought that it would
be for the common comfort of the whole party,
if I trusted myself to the moonlight, and pur-
sued the road to La Teste, which lay before the
house. I strolled out, and by chance directed
my steps towards the stable, a building larger
than the house itself, and entering the open door,
I saw by the light ofa resin match, which burned
in adistant corner, a man, in theact of arranging
the clumsy cordage of a pair of oxen.

He came towards the door, and led them after
him by the magic of some words in Patois,
proved, by his tone and their compliance, to be
soothing and affectionate. I wished the man
“ good night,” and he repeated my salutation
in French, which was at least understandable.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES, 123

He was a comely young fellow, and of a civil
demeanour. I asked him where he was going?
He replied, “to La Teste.” I proposed myself
as his companion, and he readily consented. He
proceeded forthwith to adjust his oxen, and yoke
them to his little cart, which was loaded with
packages, and covered with a canvas awning. I
was inquisitive—he communicative : thus, while
he got ready, I discovered that he was a carrier
from the little town just mentioned, the only son
of a poor widow woman, and now on his return
from Bordeaux with a cargo of groceries and
other matters for the La Testians. He finally
informed me that he was in the constant habit of
stopping at this half-way-house, for the purpose
of reposing his oxen, and of refreshing himself—
with draughts of wine or beer from the hostess’s
cellar, and draughts of love and hope from the
reservoirs of Cazille’s melting black eyes.

The preparations for departure were simple,
and soon completed. As I re-entered the inn to
arrange my baggage, I heard the inspector as-
suring the lovely traveller, that he thought any
sacrifice slight for the daughter of so worthy a

124: THE EXILE OF THE LANDES:

father, or the wife of so generous a benefactor.
This speech was accompanied by many obse-
quious bows, as he lighted the lady and her
husband to the chamber where we had supped,
and which I took it for granted he had resigned
to them.

They passed down the corridor accompanied
by the hostess, who was loaded with a warming-
pan, sheets, and pillows. As my eyes were fixed
on the elegant figure of the lady, I saw her start
and stop, while her head was turned in the di-
rection of the flight of stairs formerly noticed.
I was too far removed to hear the cause of her
alarm; but a murmur of explanation, and a
closing curse from the inspector, made it plain to
me that the interruption was caused by the nasal
salutation of poor Batiste, with a comment in
the inspector’s peculiar style.

[looked round thekitchen in search of Cazille,
but she was not to be found; so, arranging the
contents of my knapsack, which the fire had
completely dried, taking my gun under my arm,
and rousing Ranger from the corner where he
reposed, I waited the return of the landlady,

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES, 125

and announced my intended departure with the
carrier.

“‘ Faith, you are right, my good sir,” said the
hostess; “ better repose in a carrier’s cart than
lie in a hayloft, or sleep on a kitchen chair. I
could have offered you no better accommoda-
tion. You see, Monsieur the Inspector has given
up his room, and we have only one bed more,
which he must occupy.”

I assured her that I was much better pleased
to go on my journey, than interrupt the arrange-
ments of so obliging a lady as she had proved
herself to be; and I begged her to let me know
how much I was indebted for the entertainment
I had received.

“ Indebted, sir ? Nothing, to be sure. Didn't
you sup with Monsieur the Inspector?” __

“ Very true; but I have given a good deal of
trouble, and then there’s the lodging and feeding
the shepherds who guided me here, and to whom,
no doubt, you have given beds and supper.”

“ Bless you, sir! The poor fellows are long
ere this at home. They paid me for the glass of

126 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

brandy they had on entering, and left the house
before you had changed your wet shoes.”

I protest I felt a blush, of a mixed and
almost undefinable origin, overspread my face.
Compunction for my own neglect of these honest
creatures, shame at my unrewarded obligation
to them, and pleasure at their disinterested con-
duct, were pretty nearly, I believe, the materials
whichcomposed the colouring of my cheek. [had
nothing for it but to place a trifle in the hands of
the landlady on their account; and she carried
an air of honesty about her, so much in unison
with what I have most commonly met regarding
points of confidence and honour in people of her
class in France, that I was certain my remittance
would reach its destination.

* And now, madame, for your own trouble—”

*¢ My dear sir, I am more than paid by this
proof of trust,—but if your generosity prompts
you to remember the girl—”

“JT shall not forget her, believe me, nor her
mistress neither : but where is she? I am anxious
to set off, as I keep the carrier waiting.”

~

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. yey

“ Rest tranquil, he is in no hurry,” replied the
hostess, with a good humoured smile. “ He also
has a-little account to settle for his evening’s
entertainment, and Cazille and he are, no doubt,
making up the reckoning.”

Being already in the secret, this intimation
did not surprise me. <As I was never disposed
to interrupt the tottings up of love’s ledger, I
quietly sat myself down on a chair beside the
landlady, leaving Cazille and her lover to balance
their account in their own way; and I have no
doubt but that hope and happiness were placed
at the profit side, while not even time was allowed
to burthen the columns of /oss.

* Your pretty house-maid has chosen well,
madame.”

“Why yes, one must tell the truth. ‘There is
not in the department a better lad than Geoffroi
the carrier. I believe he never did harm to man
or beast but once, when he threw a bale of sugar
on my poor man, who, in his haste to join Cazille,
he overlooked taking his evening’s nap by the
stable door.”

I had no time to ascertain whether this injury

128 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

to Batiste wascited as an exception to Geoffroi’s
good treatment to man or beast. 'The reader
will therefore take it as he pleases.

* But what retards the union of this young
couple ?” asked I.

‘Faith, sir, but a trife, after all. You must
know, sir, that Geoffroi has the whole support of
his aged mother on his hands, and, poor fellow,
he is tightly put to it these hard times. He is
just able to make both ends meet; but, barring
his cart and oxen, he has not a louis or a louis’
worth. Cazille is one of the best lasses in the
world, but she has but forty-eight francs a year .
wages ; and since the courtship began, about six
months ago, has been able to save only the half
of that towards defraying the cost of the wed-
ding.”

“ Why, how much would those expenses
amount to?”

“ Oh ! sir, what with fees, and flowers, and
favours ; and a white dress for the bride, and a
treat for the friends, and paying the priest, it
would take a good hundred francs besides what
she has by her.”

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 129

“But has she no friend who would advance
her the money 2”

“She has friends enough, but all people as
poor as herself.” ‘

“ Would not you, my amiable hostess, your-
self give such a trifle for the happiness of so
good a servant?”

“Why, to tell you the truth, I might, perhaps,
if I chose to strain a point, afford a hundred
francs, and it might be worse disposed of. But,
my dear sir, if 1 were to give the money, and the
girl got married, what would become of me?
Where should I look for so faithful, so indus-
trious, and so good tempered a lass in her place?”

There was so much naiveté and frankness in
this avowal that it overpowered the displeasure
rising up at the woman’s selfishness. Instead of
answering her, I asked myself a question.

“Ts it not hard,” thought I, “ that I am almost
always thus thwarted when I wish to give people
my entire esteem? ‘That in the very moments
when my heart is flattering itself with having
found something wholly deserving its regard, an
unlooked-for flaw, or crack, or stain, presents

VOL, Il. K

130 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

itself to my eye, and checks the current of my
good will? But let it be so. I see it is our na-
ture; and henceforward I will only look at the
smooth portions of character, and step over the
inequalities by which every individual disposi-
tion is defaced.” )

Then turning to the landlady and our subject.
“ But the inspector? Would not he be disposed
to forward the good work 2”

“Lord bless you, sir! not he. Not that I
would speak ill of Monsieur the Inspector, for,
in truth, I have no right. He has made my
children, and my husband, and myself, what we
are ; and we owe every thing to him. But he
has enough to do now with every sous, in buying
dainties, without which he could not live.”

There was much in this last speech that ad-
mitted of various constructions, according to dif-
ferent fancies. But it was no business of mine
to examine closely as to what the inspector had
made of my hostess or her spouse. I turned
then boldly and abruptly to another topic.

“ Surely,” said I, “the gentleman whom I
surprised here on my arrival, and his daughter,

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 151

who is now in the house, have ability and in-
clination to step forward in a case like this.”

“ Ay, that they have, good souls! and it is
from them that Cazille’s happiness will come at
last.”

‘Ts the name of that gentleman a secret?”

“It is no secret here, sir, and, unfortunately
for himself, is too well known every where.”

“Ts it not strange, that a man so good, as I
think he is, should find it a misfortune to be
known, or feel concealment necessary ?”

** Alas! sir,” replied my landlady with a pen-
sive tone, “ how little does our happiness de-
pend on our being known! The world always
hears what is bad. A hundred virtues speak
less loudly than one crime.”

“But can such a man have committed a
erime ?”

“ Which of us, my good sir, has not some
failing, which society calls a fault, or has not done
some deed which it looks upon as a crime 2”

This tallied so well with my late reflections,

that it threw me back a little upon myself, and
K 2

132 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

I paused for a reply. I saw that I was gaining
fast on the landlady’s confidence, and, expecting
to be in a few minutes in possession of the grand
secret, I forgot how precious time was in such
conjunctures. I sought for an answer to the last
observation, which might advance the progress
of disclosure; but before I found one fitting,
the hostess cried to me hastily, “ For God’s
sake, go, sir! I hear Monsieur the Inspector
preparing to leave the inner room. He must
not see you with me alone. Adieu! sir. Here,
Cazille! Cazille! give a kiss to Geoffroi, and
come and warm the beds!”

This last part of her speech was uttered out-
side the door, where she had moved, leading me
gently by the arm; and the commands thus
given to Cazille were answered from the bench
in the front of the house, by a smack which
echoed loudly, and sounded to me as chaste as
any kiss which ever sent up its music to the
moon.

Cazille came towards us, her head reclining a
little, and her eyes cast down. Geoffroi sprang

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 133

lightly on the seat of his cart, crying, “ Come
along, sir! Good night, madame! Adieu! dear
Cazille! Adieu! adieu!”

I shook hands with the hostess. I did as
much, but no more, by Cazille, and lightened
myself of a little load of obligation for her ser-
vices; but neither got rid of, nor wished to be
rid of, my gratitude, for the smiling attentions
with which they had been performed.

As I flung Ranger into the cart and stepped
up myself, a word which had, I am positive,
nothing cabalistic in it, for it was fairly and
honestly pronounced, but which was to me in-
comprehensible, set the oxen in motion. The
whispered inspiration of an Icelandic driver to
his rein-deer could not have had a more ani-
mating effect. The oxen set off in a full and
steady pace, slowly pulling away their master
from the spot where all his affections were
centred, and me from a place which had,
during the last four hours, awakened much of
my interest on more accounts than one.

It was just midnight when we started. Every
thing was hushed and still. Neither the wheels

134 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

of our little carriage nor the steps of our team
were heard upon the sands. Geoffroi looked
back a moment at the house, heaved a sigh, and
sank into silence. It was then my turn to throw -
a parting glance at the scene of my late ad-
ventures, and I did so, more, I must acknow-
ledge, from the common-place wish of fixing its
appearance on my memory, than from any thing
approaching the tender sentiments which my
companion connected with it.

The landlady and Cazille had re-entered, as
the reader will have inferred from Geoftroi’s
sigh, which had all the tone of parting love.
The little building, its outhouses, hay-rick, and
garden seemed all to sleep quietly in the shade
of the tall pines; while the moon shone far and
wide across the desert, and silvered the tops of
the woods. Having made myself acquainted
with the exterior appearance of the inn and its
immediate vicinity, I turned round, and, affected
by the taciturnity of my companion, I uttered
not a word.

Nothing could be more beautifully calm than
was the night. At one hand, as far as I could

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 135

see, before me, was a forest, and at the other
an open waste, thick set with stunted fir-trees,
which gave it an appearance of low brush-wood,
and hid the sandy soil. Occasional clusters of
sheep showed here and there a patch of dusky
white, and the dull tinkling of a bell told that
the flock was awake and browsing, while all
around them was in deep repose. A wide cut
drain marked at each side the boundary of the
road, which was in this part quite straight, and
very hard. It was generally smooth and safe,
but the violent jolting in some parts made me
examine it more closely, and I found that the
causeway was formed of large pine-trees, thrown
across and covered with layers of sand, and
occasionally stones. It was, however, in very
few places out of repair; and in half an hour we
had entirely passed those uncomfortable spots.
Affected not more by my previous fatigue than
by the present monotony and the easy motion
of the cart, I felt myself softly dropping asleep.
I gave way to the gentle inclination, and re-

clining under the awning, and supported by the

136 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

packages, I soon forgot the world, its tumults,
joys, and sorrows.

As I was dozing away, I heard Geoffroi ex-
claim, “ Ah! he sleeps. He has left no cares,
no agitation, no mistress behind him! I'll war-
rant it he is a happy fellow.”

I felt a deep sigh rising from my breast, but I
was resolved it should not have utterance ; while
Geoffroi, influenced, perhaps, by somewhat of
the same feeling, sprang lightly on the sand,
and addressing a cheering word or two to his
beasts trudged on beside them.

I slept soundly for, I should suppose, a couple
of hours; and was awakened by the rustling of
branches against the awning which covered the
cart. I started up, and looked out upon the
narrow road which we travelled. At either side
of us were trees thickly planted, the passage
being scarcely sufficient to allow the breadth of
our vehicle. The overhanging boughs struck
from time to time against the awning, and no
other sounds were to be heard but the soft
moyements of the wheels rolling over the natural

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. a7

carpet, which thick-strewn leaves, acorns, and
fir-cones formed upon the sand. We were in
the depths of a thick wood, not composed of
pine-trees alone, but containing ali the varieties
of the forest. Instead of the tall and straight
monotony of the unvarying fir; beech, ash, and
oak-leaves glittered in the moon-beams, and
flung their canopy across our path.

As we proceeded the passage became darker,
whether from the greater thickness of the wood,
or the temporary concealment of the moon, I
could not judge; but the effect of the scene,
which soon broke upon me, was considerably
heightened by this increased obscurity. While
nothing around was to be distinguished, at even
arm’s-length from me, and the oxen and their
driver were quite lost to my sight, a sudden turn
to the left brought us suddenly to a spacious
opening, and presented a view which enchant-
ment seemed to have conjured up.

The whole expanse of heaven, lighted by the
full moon and studded with stars, shone brilliantly
above ; and all its splendour was reflected in the
unruffled breast of a lake spreading wide before

138 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

me. ‘The road, which ran straight along the
bank of this liquid mirror, sloped smoothly to
its side, and the feet of the oxen were, at times,
washed by its waters. The forest by which it
was skirted threw down its dark reflection, and
a sighing breeze sometimes scattered loose leaves
upon the surface, stirring it with fairy undula-
tions.

I thought for an instant that I still slept, and
that imagination had raised for me a mirage of
unexampled loveliness. But as I grew convinced
of the reality of the scene, I marvelled how such
a lovely sheet of water could exist in this sandy
waste; and was some time moving along its side
before I discovered that it was but a river, which
narrowed as we advanced, and whose opposite
bank I did not at first perceive, from the low-
ness of the road we travelled. The stream flowed
on, in scarcely perceptible motion, nor was its
beauty lessened by its decreased width; for the
opposite bank, being formed of a ledge of the
purest and smoothest sand, shone in the moon-
light like a frame of polished silver rising above
the water. The dark edging of the forest formed

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 139

a fine contrast, and was at times thrown into
deeper shade by passing clouds, which could
not, however, prevent the moon from illumining
the whole scene, and giving the more distant
parts of it the full brightness of her rays.

Geoffroi was still walking, at the slow pace
which suited the inclination of his oxen, and
seemed in harmony also with his own frame of
mind. A low murmured melody kept time with
his sauntering progress ; and I knownot whether
it was the peculiar softness of the scene or the
sweetness of his mellow voice, but I think I never
heard an air more tender, or warbled with a
simpler grace. It was a tune quite in the style
of those wild and heart-moving airs which make
the traveller in Ireland so often stop and listen:
then prompt him to look round at the desolate
grandeur of the scenery and the rustic songster,
and wonder how strains so exquisite had birth
in so rude a land, or found expression from so
rough a tongue.

The words of Geoffroi’s song were Gascon.
I have already avowed my ignorance of the par-
ticular dialect of that language used in those

140 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

parts, but still I caught here and there an occa-
sional word, the meaning of which I knew.

Thus ela dé lune means moonlight ; pin, pine-
tree; beoitat, beauty; forét, forest; and /a vie,
life. And at the end of every cadence the name
of names, Cazille, filled up the close.

I made meanings for the blanks, to please my
own fancy, and stringing together some lines
which suited the music, I found that I had almost
inadvertently composed a series of extempore
stanzas, which a less candid story-teller might
have called a faithful and literal translation.

SONG OF THE LANDES.

e
The moonlight, through the branching pines,
Floats o’er the sands with silver streak ;
How like the chasten’d beam, that shines
Through dark-fringed lids on beauty’s cheek,
When timid glances trembling steal
From thy bright eyes, mine own Cazille!

i
As o'er the desert-stream’s smooth breast
The night-winds from the forest shed
Light leaves to break the waters rest,
It vibrates in its deepest bed.—
So doth my thrilling bosom feel
Thy soft-breathed words, mine own Cazille!

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 141

HT.
I see thee not, but thou art here!
Even as heaven’s lamp, obscured awhile,
Still lights the desert far and near,
Through sorrow’s cloud thy mellow smile
Makes life’s dull waste bright spots reveal,
And lights me on, mine own Cazille!

There were half a dozen stanzas more, pretty
much in the same sing-song style; but I forget
half of them, and will not inflict the rest upon
my readers.

142 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

CHAPTER IV.

I wENT on contemplating and rhyming, while
Geoffroi continued his strain, the mechanical
cadence of which convinced me he was musing
too, till I was roused by the dull and hollow
sound of a horn, blown, as it seemed to me, on
the opposite bank of the river, and echoing or
answered in the wood beside me. The insinua-
tions of the inspector rushed upon my mind, and
I thought there were few more convenient places
for rifling a poor traveller’s knapsack, and levy-
ing contributions on his purse. But the reader
will remark my forbearance, in saying nothing
of the determined air with which I cocked my
gun, nor the desperate resolution I formed, not
to be robbed by less than six highwaymen at
any rate.

I called out to Geoffroi (in whatever tone my

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 1435

readers may severally fancy) to know what was
meant by these sounds.

“Ah! sir, are you awake? Well, you have
made a good sleep of it. Egad, I believe you
had a lesson from the worthy slug-a-bed Batiste ;
but you are far from coming up to your master
yet.”

I confess I did not like this evasion, and I re-
peated my question somewhat sharply.

“Why, lord! sir, are you afraid of robbers?
Having got so far, you may make yourself easy
on that head; for certainly the most convenient
time to have cut yours or any other gentleman’s
throat was while you were asleep in a dark wood
we left behind us an hour back.”

Here he laughed—with good humour or ma-
lice, just as it may be, thought I—and though
generally relishing a jest in my heart, I was se-
riously indisposed for this gaiety at present.

I do conscientiously believe that something
about cocking the gun flashed on.my brain ; but
if such valorous thoughts were preparing to
rise, they were quickly put to rest by Geoftroi’s
answer to my exclamation, that

144 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

‘‘T would be satisfied, * * * * 1”

Yes, reader! shower down your reproaches
like rain! I do plead guilty to the whole line of
asterisks; but magna veritas est, &c.

I was just going to jump down on the road,
when Geoffroi seized me by the leg, and in
a supplicating tone entreated that “ monsieur
would not give himself the trouble to make him-
self angry (1 like that idiom); that the sounds I
heard proceeded only from the postboy rousing
the watchman at the little bridge, which mon-
sieur saw so close upon the water, a little higher

up.”

I looked up, and did see the little bridge ; and
in a moment more the sound of the horn came
again upon the breeze, evidently from our side
of the river, and in a little while more the crack-
ing of a whip, and the gallop of a horse was
heard, and presently the sand was flung up
around us; and then the postboy pulled up his
little nag, and peeped under the awning, to see
who was there, I suppose.

Geoffroi’s oxen stopped, out of civility, I dare
say, to the postboy’s pony ; and the postboy him-

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 145

self dismounting, and moving up to Geoftroi,
with the exact proportion of light and easy fa-
miliarity which a bearer of dillets-doux should
assume towards the carrier of parcels, he
touched his white cotton nightcap, and then
offered his hand.

*“ How do you do, my little fellow?” said
Geoffroi, cordially shaking the proffered hand.
« Why youare late to-night, Jean? What kept
you back 2”

I thought this address a little out of the line
of separation which I wished to trace between
the parties; but seeing that the spare boyish
figure of the courier did not reach to Geoffroi’s
shoulder, I set down the freedom of the latter
to the score of seniority, which does and ought
to level distinctions.

The postboy’s back was turned towards me,
and I could not help moralizing a moment on
the nature of his occupation, which so checks
and distorts the human form. ‘ What a pity it
is,’ thoughtI, “ tosee this poor little boy doomed
for life to a drudgery of pitiful horsemanship,
which already begins to stiffen his joints, and

VOL, II. L

146 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

shrivel up his limbs to the true horse-jockey
standard!” And it was so, in fact, for his dimi-
nutive legs and thighs were flattened and bowed
out by the friction of the saddle, so as to re-
semble a pair of old horse-shears, hollowed by
constant wear. His large bony knees offered a
resistance stronger than flesh and muscles, and
were not yet reduced from their unnaturally dis-
proportioned size. His long, tight, leather pan-
taloons were smooth-worn and polished, and, as
he did not wear boots, they shone brightly in the
moonlight, as he stood like a Lilliputian colossus,
his legs involuntarily straggled open, and his
arms akimbo. During my observations here
detailed, he replied to Geoffroi’s question thus:

‘** What keptme back! Whatalways keeps me
back ? What has kept me back from the first, and
will to the last, my good friend ? Why love ! Love,
my boy! But no matter—a pair of long spurs
make up for lost time, and a merry heart mends
a broken fortune.—Yes, I am late to-night ; but
if that clumsy sack-of-meal of the wooden head*,

* I cannot well translate, or even explain, the postboy’s
pun. La Teste, where the miller lived, is a corrupt, or,

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 147

Joseph Antoine Francois Xavier Dumoulin, the
miller, had smoked his tenth cigar, and drunk
his beer in better time, I should not have been
kept so long waiting to wish his wife good night!
Now the secret’s out, my boy! Have you got
any thing in your flacon ?”

** Always merry, always happy, always suc-
cessful, my tight little Jean,” cried Geoffroi,
coming to the cart in search of his brandy
bottle.

As for me, I was almost stupified by the in-
tolerable impudence of the little brat, who ven-
tured to talk of intrigue with his squeaking
voice, and boasted ofa conquest the meaning of
which he could scarcely know. What, then,
was my surprise, as he turned towards me, look-
ing for the expected dram, to see him raise his
cap, and wipe with his handkerchief ahead, bald

perhaps, a civilized construction of La téte de buche, the
proper name of the place, and by which the country.
people always call it. te (head) was in the old or-
thography written Teste. De Buche is the title of the
noble family to which the town belonged ; and Buche
means a log of wood. The reader must arrange all these
combinations, and then turn the sentence into the most
convenient way to make out the pleasantry.

Lo

148 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES,

as a barber’s unwigged block, which he felt no
shame in exposing to the heavens,—while he
raised full upon me a visage which showed the
chiseling of sixty summers at least !

“Good God!” cried I, “ can all this be true ?
Does this withered and worn-down abortion
think of these things, and is there a miller’s wife

9
e

in all France

But why bewilder my-
self or my readers, many of whom have, no
doubt, like me, observed and wondered at the
unaccountable freaks played by the fancies of
women !

When the old sinner (for sinner he was either
ways, true or false) had quaffed a glass of
Geoffroi’s brandy, he prepared to depart. He
placed his cap upon his head, and tightening the
straps which bound his cloth jacket to the pum-
mel of his saddle—the warmth of the night in-
ducing him to ride in his cotton vest—he gave a
finishing tug to his single and fragile girth, and
then sprang on his pony’s back with wonderful
agility for a person of his years, though not,
perhaps, with the actual grace of Mercury or
young Harry.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 149

“ Adieu, then! my dear Geoffroi,” cried he ;
** and what now for the black-eyed maid of the
inn? Have you scribbled no notes of your jour-
ney, at the rate of a line a league? Ah! curse
your father and mother, you dog, who didn’t
teach you to write faster.—Never mind, I'll do
the business for you. Half a score kisses on
Cazille’s pouting lips shall be the token of your
safety, and they will, moreover, keep me alive
till Imeet my little Marie, in the Place Dauphine
at Bordeaux. Adieu, comrade! Take care of
yourself!”

‘“* Farewell, my lad! farewell ! But remember
I trust to your honour,” holloed Geoffroi, with
a laugh. The whip cracked—up flew the sand—
away went the little courier, shouting “ Love
for ever! Love for ever!” and in a minute or
two more the horn gave notice that he was
gaining on the road.

“Well, sir,” asked Geoffroi, after a long
pause, “ what do you think of that?”

“* Why I think, my friend, that you are a bold
man, to trust your mistress in such dangerous
hands.”

150 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

** Dear Cazille !” exclaimed he, and I thought
he wiped a tear from his eye as he spoke, ‘* Dear
Cazille ! I should be, indeed, an unworthy man
if I could nottrust you where there was danger.”

-“ Have you no fears from this redoubtable
fellow?” asked I.

“‘ Poorsoul! I only fear that yonder stumbling
little pony will break his neck one night. He
falls ten times a week, and it is well for little
Jean that there is no pavé in the Landes.”

** Does he always go at full gallop 2”

“« Always, when there’s a chance of meeting
any one.”

“ But is his time really lost in the pursuits he
boasts of 2”

“‘ God help the poor little creature ! no, sir, to
be sure. Why I’ve known him, over and over
again, shiver for an hour, concealed in the wood,
until he saw some one coming; and then steal
out of it, as if he had a mighty affair on his
hands. That’s pretty much the way he loses
his time, I assure you.”

“Then you don’t believe a word of his boast-
ing ?”

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 151

* Who could believe the word of a boaster,
my good sir? But tell me, sir, have you cha-
racters like this in England ?”

“ Why—really—perhaps—itis possible—that
—there—may—be—by chance !—one or two—”
replied I, and here the conversation dropped.

We reached in a few minutes the little rustic
bridge, which, with the watchman’s thatched
cottage, and a shed for the convenience of tra-
vellers, gave a romantic finish to the landscape.
‘The watchman raised the barrier, and received
his toll, when Geoffroi began to untackle his
oxen, to whom he meant to give some hay and
an hour’s rest.

I descended from the cart quite recovered
from my fatigue. Geoflroi entered the shed,
against one of the posts of whichhe stuck a resin
taper, which he lighted at the watchman’s hut,
and which threw its dull glare upon the river
banks, where the moonbeams were so sweetly
sleeping. Morning, too, was making rapid
strides in the east, and the landscape was thus
illumined by a combination of lights, such as a

painter would have gazed on for its beauty and

152 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

difficulty. I strolled along the sandy edge of
the stream, and looked round upon the exquisite
scenery.

I do not think I overrated its beauty at the
time, but I could not at all events exaggerate,
did I venture to describe what I thought of it.
After pacing up and down for some time, I at
length lay down on the sand, and gave myself
up to meditation.

I retraced hastily in my mind the scenes of
the night; the varieties of character it had
shown me; and the new interest with which
they had inspired me. But foremost in all my
ruminations was the mysterious stranger ; and I
lost myself in mazes of conjecture as to who and
what he was. I thought of this man so long
and so deeply, that I began to give credit to
some of those wild theories, at which I had often
laughed, of secret sympathies and spells—when
I at length started in doubt of myself and all
around me, at seeing this identical figure,
standing at a short distance from me, by the
water’s edge.

A group of dwarf firs was between us, and

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 153

concealed me from his sight; but as he stood
bending over the river, profoundly buried in
thought, I distinguished every feature of his ex-
pressive countenance, and [ never beheld a finer
picture of contemplative melancholy. While he
thus stood for some minutes close to me, I felt
at once the strongest wish to address him, and
the utter impossibility of doing so; but as he
turned from the river, and walked slowly away,
the spell seemed to quit me. I rose, and was
preparing to follow him, when the rustling of
my feet through the scrub-wood attracted his
attention, and he turned quickly round. The
moment he perceived me, he put his hand to his
bosom, and I saw the hilt of a stiletto appear
from under his cloak. I returned this menacing
attitude by taking off my hat and bowing. He
seemed a man of that sort which, in times of
least preparation, can see the state of things at
a glance; and as I had disembarrassed myself
of my gun, which I left in Geoffroi’s cart, he
divined at once that he had no hostility to ap-
prehend from me. He therefore returned my
salutation with easy pride.

154 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

“Sir,” said I, “I make you no apology, for I
have not intentionally thrown myself upon your
privacy. Chance has brought me to this spot;
but I cannot omit the opportunity of thanking
you for your kindness last night.”

“T am unwilling to suspect that you pursued
me intentionally,” said he. “ Individuals of your
nation rarely lend themselves to unworthy deeds;
but know, sir, that I am in need of secrecy, and
must not be broken in upon.”

-©T know it,” replied I, “ and”—

“You know it! You know me then?” and
here his hand was raised to grasp the weapon.

“No, sir,” cried I, “I know you not. In one
word, you have nothing to fear from me. Iam
an utter stranger—an idle traveller—but fate
seems to have thrown me in your way, and Iam
filled with interest for you. Mistake me not,
then, but let me tell you that your daughter
and her husband are at this moment in the inn
where we met last night.”

“Indeed! Arrived already!—Sir, I thank you,
—Pardon my suspicions and my rudeness—they

are the effects of persecution, and not my nature.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 155

I go this moment to meet my child—my dear,
~ dear Stephanie !”

* Hold, I entreat you: there may be danger
on your path. There is another person in the
inn—a government agent—one who knows you,
and whose servility to your daughter and her
husband seems to assort ill with the tone in
which he talks of you.”

At these words my companion paused ; looked
steadfastly on me ; and seemed concentrating the
whole powers of his penetration. He spoke.

“ You say, sir, you know me not. How am
I to reconcile these contradictions? You call
yourself a mere stranger. Who is this agent,
then, with whom you are so familiar? He has
spoken of me. Who am I, then? Answer me !”

* Your surprise and your doubts are too na-
tural to give me offence. I met the person I
allude to by mere accident in the inn. He is
inspector of these forests.”

“Oh! it is he? Poor fellow! he dare not
harm me.—He has not betrayed my name 2”

“No: I am totally ignorant of that ;—but I
fear, sir, it was interruption only that preserved

156 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

any secret of yours which may be in his keep-

39

ing.

“‘ Perhaps so—he is a babbling blockhead.”

Then, after another pause, he advanced closer
to me, and held forth his hand. ‘ Yes, sir,” said
he, with warmth, as I took it in mine—“ yes, I
am convinced of your sincerity. ‘The frankness
of your manner makes it impossible to doubt
you more. Be satisfied, too, that Iam in no
danger. ‘The creature you mention is safe and
useful. With all his blustering, he has some
good in him, and his own interests bind him
closely to mine. Now, sir, farewell. I fly to em-
brace my sweet child and her noble husband.”

“ But, sir, you must excuse me still. I cannot
part with you, except on condition that, should
we meet again, I may consider myself at liberty
to address you not quite as a stranger.”

‘“* Willingly—most willingly. But it is little
likely that we shall meet again. Iam the sport
of fate, proscription, and tyranny. You are
free to walk the world at will. I am chained
to these arid deserts as my only safety—and
dare not quit them.”

~

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 157

“Ts it indeed, then, possible that such a man
is a mark for vengeance and oppression? You
have partly given me your confidence—you have
gained my entire esteem. I am free, it is true,
but not when an innocent and persecuted fellow-
creature may want such humble aid as I can
give him. Command me, then, every way, I en-
treat you—I am wholly at your service.”

I spoke this just as I felt it, and there was
no chilling hesitation in my tone. Grasping my
hand in both his, he replied with solemnity—

“Go not too far, young man, in your opinion
of me. Be not rash in connecting yourself with
me. ‘The day may come, when you may turn
your back on me, and shrink from seeing my
face !”

“ Impossible!” exclaimed I; “I can never
turn from undeserved misfortune, nor from a
face which is the mirror of a noble mind.”

‘*Mark me a moment,” said he. “ You think
me innocent. For half the years of my exist-
ence, I have borne upon my conscience the brand
of guilt and infamy. Secret and deep it has
gnawed into my heart, and under the laurels of

158 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

splendour and success has fixed these furrows
on my brow. Iam guilty ofa great crime—ay,
a heinous one! The private punishment has
been ever with me, and now the public retribu-
tion is at hand.—It is but just too !—I dare not
complain, and did the scourge fall fairly on me,
I should meet it with a smile. But I am singled
out—harassed—hunted down ;—while those far
guiltier—atrocious, blood-stained sycophants—
are raised upon the ruins which have crushed
me. It is that which drives me mad—that, too,
which keeps me in this wretched world—for I
would not deign to drag this chain of degrada-
tion, if it were not gilded by the bright hope of
vengeance on those who have twined it round
me !”

He seemed, at these words, worked up to
a pitch of frenzied animation. He stopped
abruptly; then took my hand again in his, and
continued more calmly.

“‘ But this is no place for such discourse. I
have, indeed, no right to hold it with you at all.
It is, however, soothing to me to repose upon
one compassionate heart—and, if your interest

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 159

is excited for me, we may meet again. Iam
confined to the fastnesses of this desert for re-
fuge; but there is amongst the woods on the
sea-side, not far off, a little forsaken church.
Near it I have secured a retreat, and in its
vicinity you will be sure to find me. Any one at
La Teste will direct you to the church of Ar-
cachon.— You may, probably, see me there this
evening at sun-set—and if, on reflection, you
will run the hazard, you may be, perhaps, of
service to me. Now, sir, farewell for the pre-
sent. I have no time for further delay.”

I assured him of my anxiety in his fate, and
repeated my offers of assistance. We then
parted. He advanced towards the bridge; and
as he walked across it with an air like that of a
sovereign prince rather than a refugee criminal,
I saw the toll-taker and Geoffroi salute him
with the most profound respect. While -he
proceeded on his way, they seemed to follow
him with looks of sympathy and admiration. I
advanced towards them, and heard the con-
cluding observation of the toll-taker.

_ & Ay, ay! Ihave taken tolls on this bridge

160 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

for the twenty years since he had it built, and
I never knew man nor woman to pass it who
didn’t give him a blessing.—They may take
every thing else from him, but they can’t rob
him of the good-will of the people.”

Geofiroi was about to reply, for he gave three
or four consecutive pulls to the cuffs of his
jacket, rubbed his hands together, and slapped
his thigh with the energy preparative to real
eloquence, when he observed me close to him,
and checked his warmth. He took off his cap
to me, and his example was followed by the
toll-taker, in a style still more obsequious. They
bowed to me over and over again; and I was
not slow in perceiving that the civility which I
had all along met with from the carrier was in-
creased tenfold by my apparent intimacy with
the stranger.

«Well, Geoffroi,” asked I, “are you ready
to proceed ?”

“In a moment, sir.—Do but let me have one
Jook more at the count.”

“'The count? Does that gentleman bear so
high a title?”

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 161

* Ah! sir, you may well say that now. They
have taken his title, it is true, and doomed him
to death; but he is just as sure of the first, and
as safe from the latter, as ever he was:—for we
will all call him count, and he shall not die while
the people of the Landes have strength in their
arms, and blood in their veins!”

“No,” echoed the toll-taker, “sooner than
they should catch him, I would, with my own
hands, blow up this bridge to atoms—though
each stone of it seems somehow as dear to me
as my children, who have every one been born
and reared upon its arches! Yes, yes, he is safe
enough at this side of the water ; but he hazards
too much in trusting himself at the forest inn.”

** Nay, nay,” replied Geoffroi, ‘‘he has nothing
to fear there but from that swaggering inspector,
who, besides his obligations to the count, owes
his present place to the son-in-law. Depend
upon it he is too fond of a snug place and a
sound skin to venture treachery.”

Then turning tome, he continued, “ God bless
you, sir! you brought good news, lam sure, from
the countess, ormadame Stephanie his daughter.

VOL. II. M

162 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

—See how quickly he walks through the heavy
sand! Perhaps the appeal against the sentence
is decided in his favour 2?”

“1 fear, Geoffroi, that you overrate my in-
timacy with that gentleman and his affairs. I
never saw him till last night—nor did | know
his rank till you told me of it.”

“What, sir!” exclaimed the carrier, with
strong emotion—“ what! you don’t know him?
My God, I have then betrayed him ! What have
I done! what have I done!”

“No, my good Geoffroi, you have nothing
to reproach yourself with. Your error was quite
natural, nor have you betrayed any thing. I
know from hinself that he is proscribed, and
you have not let his name escape you.”

“ ‘Thank God I have not! But who could
have thought, to see you together, that you
were not old friends !”

“We are friends, you see—and when you
know the world as well as I do, Geoffroi, you
will know that new friends are often worth more
than old ones.”

“Ah! my mother often told me so, true

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 163

enough, sir. Friendship, she says, is just like
the shoeing of a cart-wheel—very tight and close
fitting at first, but that it seems to wear out
and slin away from one quite naturally, when
rubbed a little on the rough causeways of hard
fortune.”

“ Ay,” said the tollman, “it is just like that
little gate there, which flies wide open to the
traveller that holds out money in his hand ; but
remains close-barred and bolted to the poor
devil who has not a sous to oil its hinges.—It’s
a poor thing your old friendship |”

That it is,’ said Geoffroi; “ but yours,
I hope, sir, for the count, isn’t of such fast
wear.”

“‘ No, indeed, it is not, my friend. Be satis-
fied that I am sincere and warm in his interest ;
but you must not tell me his name for all that.”

** Never fear, sir, never fear. | have had too
great a fright already not to keep my tongue
closer tied in future. Look, sir! There he goes,
God bless him! He has just turned into the

wood,”
mM 2

164 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES,

“ Safe journey to him, and to you too, gentle-
men !” cried the tollman, wheeling into his hut.

** Now then, sir,” said Geoffroi, “‘ when you
like we are all ready to start.”

In a few minutes more we were in fact on the
road, which, being firm and well kept, allowed
me to walk without annoyance from the sand.
Every step brought us further into a cultivated
track. Large patches, at each side of us, were
reclaimed from the desert, and grass and corn-
fields, occasional comfortable houses, and planta-
tions of forest trees, enlivened the scene.

The sun was risen, rich and proudly, as we
came to the little town of La Teste. We pro-
ceeded at a lively pace down the neat street, and
many a nod of welcome was shaken to Geoffroi
from the rustic inhabitants, who stood at their
doors gaily chattering, and all armed with a huge
clasp-knife in one hand ndin the other a large
slice of bread, well rubbed with garlic, and eked
out with a green fig or a bunch of grapes. Such
is the common summer break fast of these parts.
We stopped at a little cottage near the centre

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 165

of the town, where Geoffroi was received with
a truly maternal embrace by its decent-looking
mistress. I was presented to her in due form by
her kind-hearted son; and her particular atten-
tions led me to believe that in his whisper, on
our arrival, he had connected my name in some
way with that of the stranger—or of the count,
if the reader will concede him his title.

I declined, however, entering the cottage,
being anxious to take up my quarters in the
neighbouring white-washed house, decorated
with the sign and title of ‘‘ the French Crown;”
which, meaning merely a piece of money so
called, must not be confounded with the regal
ornament attaching to the occupier of another
residence. Thither, then, as soon as Geoffroi
had put up his oxen, I repaired; and Ranger,
my gun, and knapsack, very soon occupied their
usual places in my chamber. When I had
shaken off the dust and other encumbrances of
my twenty-four hours’ journey, I had a break-
fast of café aw lait, and then sallied out on my

task of observation.

166 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

CHAPTER V.

Tue district of Arcachon, including the little
town of La Teste, its capital, is probably one
of the most perfect retirements in any part
of civilized Europe. Standing on the remote
and uncultured border of the Bay of Biscay, it
is utterly out of the way of communication with
the world ; and its name is never heard beyond
the edges of the forest which surrounds it,
except when a maritime report is given of some
unhappy vessel beat to pieces by the breakers,
which are eternally lashing the desolate sands
of its beach. La Teste is very rarely orna-
mented with the appearance of a stranger: the
unbroken intercourse of its inhabitants with one
another gives them that sameness of thought
and similarity of expression, which is remarked
so often between man and wife, sufficiently un-
fashionable to live much together. Their views,
beth physical and moral, may be said to be

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 167

bounded on three sides by desert, and on the
fourth by the wide-stretching sea. They are
either fishermen, or dealers in the products of
the pine-woods; and a few leagues, by land
or water, seem the limits of their intelligence.
The aspect of the place is wild and flat, yet not
unpleasing. At that period of the day when
the tide is full in, it is delightful to gaze on the
placid lake of Arcachon, for such is the name
of the horse-shoe excavation, on the deepest
ridge of which the town is built. But when
the waves recede, and for three miles out
nothing is to be seen but a sedgy exposure, it
is not easy to imagine a more unattractive land-
scape. It has none of the sublimities of ocean,
for the great Biscayan Gulf is too far out to be
visible from this part of the shore. There is,
however, one remarkable feature in the pro-
spect, which is not without beauty—the accu-
mulation of those sand-heaps far to the right of
the lake, which shine in the sunbeams with a
dazzling brilliancy, and for a parallel to which

e must travel to another portion of the globe.
On the left stretches a thick forest, close up to

168 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

which the waves reach at high tide, when a
long circuit must be taken to approach it; but
the strand at low water is quite uncovered, and
permits those who love the shady solitudes of
the wood to reach them by a walk of about
half a league.

This wood was the chief object. of my re-
search; for I made myself informed that the
church of Arcachon stood buried in its shelter,
not far off. Having lounged away some hours
in the immediate neighbourhood of the town,
and in taking some rapid notes of the preceding
day’s adventures, I ordered my own and Ran-
ger’s dinner, that I might lose no time in com-
mencing my excursion, and advancing towards
the interesting interview which I looked for
at sunset. My homely, ill-dressed, unpalata-
ble meal, was a practical eulogy on the last
evening’s repast; and as I bethought me of
the inspector’s luxuries, I hoped, for his sake,
that the duties of his office never led him to
the unseemly accommodations of “ L’Ecu de
France.”

When I found myself on the borders of the

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 169

forest, I felt an anxiety which, like all anxieties,
was of amixed nature. Doubt of the stranger's
meeting me, interest in his fate, curiosity in his
secret, vague and awful conjectures at the
nature of his crime, all tended to fill me with
a restless impatience. I pondered, and moved
onwards along the edge of the sea, without
observing any thing to intimate the existence
of the church in question. As I proceeded,
the broad expanse of the ocean grew upon my
sight, and I experienced all those sensations
with which it ever inspires me. Its vastness,
its measured motion, and the murmuring of its
soft waves, as they seemed to melt into the
sand, all spoke to me in different ways; but, as
it were, in the varying modulation of a common
language. I hastened my steps to meet the
approaching tide, and was soon standing close
to the snowy wreaths, which every wave depo-
sited, like an offering, at my feet. I had laid
my gun among some scattered rocks behind
me, and Ranger took the opportunity of stretch-
ing himself in sleep beside it. I was a long
time gazing on the waters, as they floated in

170 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

their self-impelled and waltz-like undulations.
There was nothing visible on their bright blue
bosom. No ship was in sight; and a few white
seabirds, skimming along, were the only living
objects which appeared to dispute my quiet
sovereignty over this beauteous scene.

At some distance from the shore stood a low
and rudely constructed fort, the apparent re-
mains of a larger work of defence. It seemed
ungarrisoned; and I should have thought it
uninhabitable, had not some thin curling smoke
risen from it, and pronounced it to be a signal
station, or the refuge of some poor fisherman,
living there on sufferance. This lonely mark
of the labours of man, in a scene otherwise the
exclusive work of nature, gained an importance
from its singleness, and fixed my attention.
There was something picturesque in its crum-
bling angles and weed-covered embrasures,
which tempted me to record it, in the rough
and hasty way in which my pencil usually per-
formed such duties. I took out my book and
began to sketch; but had scarcely traced the
first rude outline, when I received a blow from

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 171

behind, full on the ear; and before I had time
to stagger forward, a pair of lusty arms were
wound round me, pinioning mine to my sides,
while a chorus of triumphant but hideous shouts
nearly deafened me to the violent barking of
Ranger, who had flown to my defence.

I struggled with all my might; and turning
round my head, saw a face resting on my
shoulder, which no natural sign proclaimed as
woman’s, but which was marked as such by the
decoration of a cap like those worn by the
peasants of the country.

The large black eyes and open mouth which
met my view seemed strained beyond all ima-
ginable dimensions, by the exertions which she
made to hold me fast. I plunged and struggled
with all my energies, she shouting “ Pierre !
Pierre! Pierre !” with a voice of terrible sound ;
while a little amphibious-looking monster, some-
thing between a fish and a boy, was coiling a
huge net round my entangled feet, and shrilly
echoing the screams of my assailant.

We were up to our ankles in the water,
which flowed fast upon us, and the contest

172 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

ended in a few seconds by our all three
tumbling down into a frothy wave, which rolled
over as we sank into the sand. She never let
go her hold for a moment, but I had loosened
one arm, and, grasping her by the leg which
was next it, was gradually getting the mastery,
when another figure, still more formidable, came
to her succour. This was a man of most fero-
cious aspect, and in the fierce costume of mili-
tary service. He had but one arm, which
brandished a sabre over my head, and under
his stump was my fowling-piece, both barrels
pointed full in my face. He roared out to me,
in French, a summons to surrender, with a
horrible threat of cutting off my head, clear
and clean, in case of refusal. My assent was a
matter of course; but when he ordered me to
stand up, obedience was not so easy. The
young imp kept twisting the net faster and
faster around me; and the woman proclaimed,
by her yells, that she was entangled as firmly
as I. I do not know how we got clear, but by
simultaneous rollings up the sand, well washed
by the waves and wreathed round with sea-

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. Ny fe

weed, we at last got beyond the reach of the
water, and in a little time were on our legs.
The women, whose masculine voice and aspect
were truly terrible, snatched the sabre from the
hand -of her associate, and never ceased voci-
ferating, in her jargon, abuse, I suppose, to me
and commands to him. He and I had a short
parley together, as he stood with my gun
cocked in his hand, the barrel resting upon his
stump, after the manner of an American rifle-
man, the muzzle close to my breast. He told
me pithily that I was a spy, and a prisoner, and
that I should not, -on pain of instant death,
make any resistance to accompanying him and
his wife to La Teste, to be handed into the
keeping of the mayor.

I must confess that no prisoner, I believe,
ever felt greater pleasure at a release, than I
did at this threat of trial; for the outrage I
had suffered, and the appearance of its perpe-
trators, promised any thing but legal and legiti-
mate consequences. I expressed my readiness,
and so we set off. The little urchin, following,

as I suppose, the orders of his father, waded

174 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

away towards the ruined fort, of which I quickly
understood the latter was governor. The tender
helpmate of this veteran now carefully picked up
the sketch-book, and began to wipe the water
from its leaves, in which operation, to my utter
misery, she scoured out the traces of many an
hour’s labour. I remonstrated, but in vain,
French was Greek to her; and she was but
little inclined to accommodate my wishes, even
if she had comprehended them. We walked
on: this marine Amazon in front, throwing
fierce defiance over her shoulder at every step ;
Ranger sneaking beside me, his tail between his
legs; and the old soldier hobbling after, with
the gun in its unvarying attitude of hostility
and preparation.

The leader of the procession sturdily pro-
ceeded at a pace which the rear-guard found it
hard to keep up with; and the tide now flowing
rapidly up to the bank of sand which the waves
had raised along the whole course of the bay,
we struck into a little opening in the wood on
our right. On this manceuvre a halt was com-
manded by the soldier; and a short council

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 175

seemed to be held on the propriety of our
taking to the forest, as I judged by their
gestures. It was decided that we should do
so; and indeed the only alternative appeared
to be an attempt to wade through the sea to
La ‘Teste, a hazardous, if not impossible, pro-
ceeding.

Our narrow path was now obstructed, by
branches above, and brambles below; and in
addition to the risk of one of these catching in
the triggers of my gun, and so executing me on
the spot, was the possibility of my tripping up;
on which they might put the construction of an
attempted escape, and found a fair excuse for
decapitating me or blowing my brains out—or
both. In this way I seriously began to calculate
the prudence and possibility of bolting and
giving the slip to my escort. But the sea was
at one side, and a tangled wood at the other ;
and I considered that, if even I succeeded in
escaping, it would only involve me in difficulties,
and mar the meeting with the stranger; while
by my making my appearance before the mayor
of La Teste, with Geoffroi and my passport to

176 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

testify for me, there could be no doubt of my
release. I therefore cautiously trudged along ;
and becoming more accustomed to my situation,
I began to perceive how much of the ludicrous
it contained.

While my conductors kept up an unceasing
chatter in their (to me unintelligible) patois, I
was running through every link of a chain of
thought connected with my adventure; which
ended in the rather awkward reflection, that
some officious subaltern might implicate me as
an associate of the proscribed, and for ought I
knew, guilty refugee. I was turning in my
head a variety of ways for baffling such imputa-
tion, when the path we traversed opened out
upon a little inclosure of most verdant herbage,
and on raising my eyes, I discovered the iden-
tical church of Arcachon standing before me.

I stopped for a moment in unfeigned admira-
tion. My conductors stopped also, for the
soldier was fatigued by his forest walk, and the
woman obeyed the orders to halt. ‘“ Great
God!” thought I, “ if thou wert always wor-
shipped-in the purity which such a temple and

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 177

such a solitude as these must inspire, how much
worthier would thy votaries be to call upon thy
name !”

This beautiful little structure, a chaste model
of Grecian architecture, was erected at the ex-
pense of the crew and owners of a ship which
was wrecked on the shores of the bay; and,
being out ofthe direct resort of the inhabitants
of La Teste, is known by the name of “ The
Sailors’ Chapel.” A priest was formerly re-
tained, at a regular stipend, to perform duty in
it; and a neat cottage, at the extremity of the
erass-plat in front of the church, was his
secluded and modest residence. At this time,
however, the house was vacant and the church
deserted, except on the anniversary ofits patron
saint, or when occasional offerings were put up,
by crews escaped from the dangers of the sea,
or others on the point of embarking to meet
them.

I acquired all this knowledge from the fluent
communications of the one-armed soldier, who,
finding me very tractable, entered warmly into
the interest which the church inspired me with,

VOL. II. N

178 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

and answered many more inquiries than those
which led to the information above detailed*.
The woman, however, less conciliating, and not
understanding our discourse, showed signs of
impatience, and indulged in some flourishes of
rhetoric as well as of the sabre. “ March!”
was once more the word, and we plunged deep
into the embowering branches of the wood.

It was now nearly sunset. I thought of the
stranger, and hoped no ill had befallen him.
The path was narrow; and as we walked on i
could see nothing before me but the stiff cap,
broad back, thick legs, and brawny arms of my
female escort; until she came suddenly to a
full stop, and, with gesticulation worthy of
Grimaldi in one of his feminine metamorphoses,
she commenced a rapid succession of low cur-
tesies to some one advancing towards us. In
the momentary depressions of her head, which
bobbed up and down with incalculable vivacity,
I was enabled to see beyond it, and discovered,

with pleasure and mortification, the exiled wan-

* See note at the end.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 179

derer, his daughter and son-in-law, standing
in a group before us.

When they caught the eye of the old soldier,
he stepped up towards them; and with all the
grace which his mutilated frame permitted, he
presented arms, standing stiff and erect beside
me. Astonishment was in the face of the
young man; fear in the charming features of
his wife; while the father, casting on me and
my companions a piercing glance, showed a
countenance on which suspicion, the twin asso-
ciate of cuilt, was in full display.

There was, it must be confessed, something
to warrant a fear of bad faith, in the hostile
appearance of my companions, in the waylaying
air of our rencontre, at the very time and place
which the stranger had fixed’ on to meet me,
but still more in the mixed expression of my
look; which might, by a doubting mind, have
been well supposed that of a rascally police
agent, rejoiced at having entrapped his victim,
yet cowardly enough to be ashamed of his
vocation.

But the exile was still himself. He never

N2

180 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

flinched from the path, but addressed the
saluting veteran. ‘‘ Why, how now, Pierre !
What’s this?” Then looking towards me.
“And you, s—How am I to salute you,
friend or foe ?”

“ Oh! as neither one nor the other,” replied
I; “Iam too shabbily placed for the first, and
too harmless for the last. I am nothing now,
but a positive prisoner and a suspected spy.”

“* A prisoner anda spy! Why, Pierre, I hope
you have not committed another outrage in
your capacity of signal-man. You have not
used this gentleman ill?”

‘Til! bless your heart, sir, quite the con-
trary. Except for that wet jacket, which he
got in rolling on the beach with my poor
Josephine here, I never granted quarter to a
prisoner who was better treated.”

“ But how comes it that you have dared to
make prisoner a stranger and a traveller of
such peaceable demeanor ?”

It would be rather a puzzling matter to give
a literal version of Pierre’s reply; but if my
reader will make allowance for foreign idiom

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES, 181

and blustering, and imagine the old soldier to
have been a Chelsea pensioner, recounting the
capture of a musing Frenchman near a Mar-
tello tower on our coast, the following may be
considered a free translation :

« Why, please your honour! as to daring,
you see as how I never was backward in that,
and when a chap of a foreigner skulks along
the wood near my signal-post, I thinks it my
duty to take him into custody, without paying
compliments. Your honour knows as I keeps
a sharp look out both by sea and land; and as
no English frigates were to be seen in the bay
this morning, something told me as how that
something was brewing ashore. It is peace
time, to be sure, but that signifies nothing;
for we make peace and break it now, as often
as we change kings and emperors (touching
his hat), and it is in peace that spies are most
dangerous, for such folk rarely venture to show
themselves in war. Well, please your honour,
as I was saying, I had just twisted the telescope
round, and turned its muzzle towards La Teste,

and was pretty constantly clappmg my eye to

182 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

the touch-hole, as a body might say, when all
of a sudden I marks a man stealing quietly
along down the side of the wood. With that I
points the gun, the glass 1 mean, plump upon
him; and his knapsack, foraging cap, green
jacket, and brown barrelled piece, made me
dead sure as he was a rifleman scattering out
from a party coming to surprise the fort. Well,
I calls Josephine and little Nicolas and myself
together, to hold a bit of a council, and we
takes another peep at the lad as he sloped
down towards us. We sees at once, by his
fair complexion, fresh colour, and close-shaved
chops, that he was an Englishman; so taking
my sabre in my hand, and loading my wife and
child with the large mackerel net, we makes a
quiet sortie out of the fort, and places ourselves
in the wood hard by. Well, at last up comes
the enemy, and we sees him halt and take up
@ position just in front of the fort; when think-
ing, no doubt, that it was abandoned, and
nobody near, he lays his musquet on a rock
close by the shore, and plants his dog, which
is prisoner also you see, as sentry upon it. If

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 183

any more proof was wanting, your honour,
what does he do, but pulls out a book and
begins taking a view of the fort, which made
me certain that he was nothing but a shabby
bit of a spy, and no scout nor rifleman after all.
So seeing as the dog was asleep on his post,
we steps out all three to seize the man, and
Josephine and Nicolas, being lighter-footed
than myself, they soon comes up with him;
and what with her arms, and his net, he was
soon seized, as fast as the tall German general
which your honour and myself made prisoner
at Austerlitz. That’s all, your honour.”

When this recital was finished, the stranger
frowned sternly, and cried, ‘‘ Hark ye, Pierre!
Your officious conduct will surely be your ruin.
Remember that you have now no friend to
screen your excesses. Return his gun to that
gentleman, and think yourself well off if he
pardons your outrages.”

I took the proffered gun, thanked the
stranger, smiled on Pierre; and marvelled how
a banished refugee maintained such influence
over a whole district, every individual of which

184 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

seemed to know his situation, yet admit his
power.

Pierre turned with a scowling, discontented
look, to his wife, who had never ceased to bob
curtesies from the moment of our meeting the
stranger. He addressed her in patozs, and
seemed to inform her of the rebuke which he
had received, for she flung a surly glance upon
the party, and turned off abruptly towards the
church. Pierre muttered a few sentences in a
confused mixture of French and Gascon, and
then took his leave with the following speech:

“You were always hard on me, general,
always. You call every thing I do excess.
What if I did seize the old priest, who was
reading his prayer-book by the wood side; or
the philosopher, who was gathering shells and
what not for the Bordeaux museum? Had I
not good reason for thinking that the one was
taking notes of some plan for surprising the
fort; and the other sounding the depth of the
bay with his boat-load of instruments! What
am I there for but to look sharp at all comers,

and what is a priest or a philosopher to me,

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 185

more than any other foe to fair play and plain
dealing? But don’t look angry, general. You
know I’d die twenty times sooner than offend
you! God bless you, and prosper you always,
and every where! Adieu, gentlemen and ma-
dame!” With these words he limped away
after his discomfited helpmate.

The stranger, then, took me by the hand,
saying in a kind tone, “ You have not to boast,
sir, of the hospitality or politeness of our coun-
try. Suspicion and ill-treatment have pursued
and fallen upon you, but you will excuse rude
manners and troublesome times. Stephanie
and Eugene! receive this gentleman with that
consideration which only may atone for your
last night’s surmises.”

The lady and her husband each offered me a
hand, which [ cordially accepted; and some
words passed, common-place in their nature,
but on which circumstances stamped a more
than common value. During the discourse of
Pierre, I had closely observed the interesting

group, and saw enough to tell me they were in

186 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

deep distress. Her eyes were red and swollen,
and her cheeks pale. Her husband’s counte-
nance bore marks of great agitation. The
father alone seemed composed in the midst of
the grief which his situation had excited. After
the interchange of the civilities just mentioned,
I prepared to take my leave; but on my doing
so, the stranger said—“ No, no, sir, you must
not part from us so. I see the delicacy which
actuates you, but your company is a solace to
us at this moment; and although the intelli-
gence brought me by my children precludes
the possibility of your serving me, you may not,
perhaps, dislike to pass with me the last even-
ing I shall ever see in my native country. Yes,
sir! I am now denounced to certain death, if
discovered in the land that owes me no trifling
gratitude. The last hope for justice lay in an
appeal, which has been rejected; and those
who have confirmed the sentence of my destruc-
tion now pant for the means of inflicting it upon
me; but I shall thwart them all !—and I may yet
return, when least they think of it, to act such

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 187

part as has ere now been performed, and wipe
my Injuries out.—But no matter! Excuse
me.—”

He here grasped the arm of his son-in-law,
and they walked forwards at a hurried pace,
deeply conversing; while I, thus left to take
charge of the weeping daughter, offered her
the support of my arm, and closely followed
their steps.

As soon as her sobs allowed her to speak,
she exclaimed, in a voice of the most touching
sweetness, “ Ah! sir, is it not dreadful to see
such a being as that—the best, the kindest, the
bravest of men, thus driven from the country
he has loved so much, and served so well? He
whose whole life, as long as my memory can
trace it, has been devoted to public services
and private virtues; and whose only reproach
has been, that in days of passionate enthusiasm
he committed one act which in him is called a
crime, while his judges and persecutors are the
very men who urged, and some of whom parti-
cipated in the deed. Such, sir, is the justice—

188 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

such the impartiality of our rulers! Is it not
dreadful ?”

“It is, indeed, afflicting,” replied I, “to see
the instances of wrong inevitable in times of
public commotion. But your father has the
hope of pardon left him, as he seems secure of
escaping from his immediate danger !”

“ Mscaping! Alas! alas! and must he fly as
a criminal from the shores which have so often
hailed him with shouts of triumph—from the
people who have so long enrolled his name
with the band of heroes unrivalled in ages of
glory! Yes, yes, he must fly; and this night
is the last in which I shall gaze on him, per-

1°?

haps, for ever Her sobs interrupted her,
and I offered no reply.

We had by this time reached the church, on
the green lawn in front of which the stranger
and his son-in-law were pacing up and down,
with papers in their hands, which seemed
wholly to absorb them. Unwilling to interrupt
them, and hoping to gain on the confidence of

my lovely companion, I led her towards the

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 189

church, and we walked silently awhile under its
classic portico.

There was something oppressively solemn in
the scene, yet I felt as if I would not have
changed it for one of life’s lightest. As I con-
templated the figures, with whose sorrows I had
thus become associated, and while thousands
of varying imaginings rushed upon me, | was
astonished by the distant sound of vocal music.
The lady and I stopped at the same moment,
and I asked her, “ Did you hear that strain?”

She answered me by suffocating sobs.

After a short interval, the sounds came again,
nearer and more plainly. At this repetition of
them, the stranger and his son-in-law paused
suddenly in their discourse, and the former
stepped quickly towards the clergyman’s cot
tage, and unlocked the door, which, taking out
the key, he entered and locked after him. The
husband came up towards us, and, having
spoken a few words to his wife in an under
tone, requested me to take charge of her for
awhile. I willingly undertook the office, and

1990 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

he stepped across the grass-plat, and knocked
at the cottage door. It was opened; he en-
tered, and the windows being all closely shut,
there was no appearance of the house being so
tenanted.

The sounds of the chorus became now more
distinct, and more continuous as they ap-
proached. It was evidently a religious song,
and chanted by a choir of not unpractised
singers. It harmonized well with all that was
passing, and threw a soothing melancholy over
the sensations I had experienced. Not so with
my lovely companion. As the voices came
more fully towards us, her agitation increased ;
and my surprise was soon changed to painful
sympathy, when she whispered me, in snatched
and almost inaudible sentences, that the music
proceeded from the rustic choristers of La
Teste, accompanying a procession of sailors,
who came, as was the custom, to offer up their
prayers before embarking with the night tide,
in the little vessel which was to bear her father
from his country and friends. Having thus

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 191

explained the cause of her emotion, she drew
her cloak around her, and leaned on my arm to
witness the scene.

A verger first approached, and opened the
door, and was followed by some children carry-
ing baskets of flowers, which they scattered on
their path. The singers, male and female, ha-
bited in white surplices, next came on, and then
the priest advanced with measured steps. He
was followed by the sailors, amounting to about
ten or a dozen; each one carrying a taper, and
most of them bearing some simple ex voto, such
as a bit of cable, a rude daubing of a ship, or
other similar offerings. A large party of pea-
sants and inhabitants of the town closed the
procession. It entered the church: we followed,
and, as we stood leaning against a pillar, I had
full leisure to admire the beautifully ornamented
altar, the richly carved organ and pulpit, and
the windows of stained glass, shining with a
mellow richness, as the setting sun poured its
full splendour through them. The religious ser-
vice was soon performed; and that part of it

which by its simplicity pleased and interested

192 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

me most was the repetition of the sailors’ part-

‘ing hymn.
HYMN TO THE VIRGIN*.

i.

O virgin queen of Heaven,
To whom we raise our prayer,

Thy presence cheers the exile’s fears,
And calms the perils that we dare!

Let but thy murmur’d blessing breathe
Across the distant tide,

’T will smooth those waves the hero braves,
Whose bark we go to guide.

If.

For stranger-seas we’re bound,
Which wash the savage shore,
Where wild winds sweep, in chorus deep,
To swell the billows’ frantic roar.
Send, then, a seraph from on high,
To fan with radiant wing
Our fluttering sails, while gentle gales
Waft thee the praise we sing.

* These lines were written for music, not yet published,
The allusion in the last stanza is explained in the note
which follows this tale.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 193

ETT.

Our angel-guide shall beam
Like that celestial form
Whose wings of gold, in times of old,
Hush’d on this strand the angry storm ;
And to our sainted patron gave,
In token of thy love,
That Heaven-wrought gift man may not lift,
Nor Hell have power to move.

During this hymn, the emotion of the afflicted
daughter increased to a violent degree, and at
its conclusion she yielded to the movement with
which I led her out. In every eye that gazed
on her, as we passed down the aisle, I plainly
discovered compassion and sympathy, but no
one seemed to recognize her; and I thought
these feelings were awakened by simple motives
of charity for its own sake, without being
dependent on any personal excitement. But
when we got into the open air, which breathed
freshness and relief to my companion, she in-
formed me that every one of the congregation
within knew perfectly who she was; but not
one would give utterance even to the blessings

VOL. II. 0

/

194 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

which they silently poured on her, fearing to
add to her distress by any public display. Who
would exchange the consolation of such elo-
quent silence for the heartless and indelicate
condolence of the world !

We walked apart, while the assembly left
the church, and dispersed in irregular groups
through the wood. When the doors were
closed, and no one to be seen, the lady advanced
to the cottage, and tapped gently at the window.
The signal was answered by the appearance of
her father and husband, who both offered me
their thanks for having accompanied her during
the ceremony, which they had thought it im-
prudent to witness. “ For even here, sir,” said
the exile, “ has the spirit of corruption spread
itself; and my being publicly discovered might
bring down the strong arm of persecution on
the whole of this district, whose devotion to me
is well known. I am prudent, for their and my
family’s sake—but on my own account indif-
ferent.—Now,” continued he, “ we must go on
towards the town. The little bark which my

friends have engaged to convey me to another

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 195

shore lies riding at the mouth of the bay, and
at high-water a boat is to be in readiness on the
beach. ‘The sand-heaps scarcely show the red
tinge of the sinking sun. We have no time to
lose. Stephanie, my love, retain that gentle-
man’s arm: Eugene and I have much to talk of
yet—and at supper we shall have leisure for
our leave-taking.—Come on!”

The assumed cheerfulness with which he
spoke did not conceal from me the melancholy
of the speaker, nor produce the effect he wished
for on his daughter. We walked onwards ac-
cording to the arrangement he had made, and
for a few minutes no words were exchanged.
But there is something in the French heart that
must have vent, whether in joy or sorrow. The
first is increased, and the latter seems dimi-
nished, by communication; and if sympathy is
discovered in the listener, his being a stranger
is no obstacle to the confidence.—My fair com-
panion soon, therefore, sought the solace most
natural to her sex and nation, and she freely
told me, as we walked towards La Teste, much

of the secret of her father’s situation. On two
ro)

ww

196 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

points, however, she observed a caution, which
I did not feel at all inclined to remove. She
neither mentioned his name, nor the nature of
that crime which had called forth his banish-
ment and remorse. ‘The first, she said, she
dared not reveal until he was safe from the pos-
sibility of detection or betrayal. The latter
she could not venture to tell me, lest my national
or private prejudices might destroy the sympa-
thy which had been so forcibly excited in her
father’s favour. I participated in her precau-
tion on both points, and guardedly avoided any
expression that might lead to the knowledge of
one secret, which must almost necessarily have
carried with it that of the other. The fear of
learning that the stranger had been guilty of
some really serious crime made me shudder.
I was not much of a politician, and had great
leniency for state offences, which often sprung,
I knew, from private virtues. I hoped that the
crime of the stranger was of this nature, until I
recollected his self-upbraidings; and then the
memory of d’Enghein, Wright, Palm, and Piche-
gru, flashed all together across my mind.—But I

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 197

would not dwell upon the possibility, and strug-
gled to get rid of my bewildering conjectures.

‘*¢ Whatever may have been his error,” said I,
in reply to an observation of the lady, “ it can-
not, surely, have sprung from a vicious heart;
for had it, I am convinced that though your na-
tural affection might make you overlook it, it
would have utterly prevented that devotedness
which is displayed towards your father by all
who know him, from your noble husband, down
to the meanest peasant of the land.”

“ Tf, sir,” said she, ‘the act for which he
now suffers was a crime, its effects upon him
almost raise it to the dignity of virtue itself;
for such has been his remorse, even through
years of splendid prosperity, the consequence
of that act, that his whole life has been spent
in deeds of benevolence and goodness, from a
principle of retribution to mankind.”

I did not then stop to examine deeply the
pardonable sophistry of this observation, nor
shall Inow. It will be more interesting to my
readers to learn an instance of that philanthropy
by which the affectionate daughter thought her

i98 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

reasoning justified. For the sake of concise-
ness, I shall relate the circumstance in my own
way, but I deprive it of much of its effect by
not giving it in her colloquial phrase.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 199

CHAPTER VI.

Tuts best loved daughter of the then exile,
but once count, general, and man of influence
and wealth, was sought for in marriage by some
of the first characters of the day—anxious for
an alliance with such a man as her father, and
for the possession of such loveliness as distin-
guished her. Amongst her suitors was one of
those marshals of France, who, with a title of
almost the highest rank, possessed a celebrity
which none of his illustrious brother-soldiers
eclipsed. He was incalculably rich; and his
alliance might, at that period, be considered as
one of the most splendid which the country
afforded. The father, mother, and family of
the beautiful Stephanie were delighted with the

offer, for they knew nothing of her secret at-

tachment toa younger lover. Eugene de S ,
the marshal’s aid-de-camp, was twenty years of
age. ‘The marshal had numbered more than

fifty summers, and his blanched locks did not

260 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

form a stronger contrast to the dark chestnut of
Eugene’s flowing hair, than did his stiff and
uninviting manners to all that was beautiful and
manly in Kugene’sperson and demeanor. The
marshal and his aid-de-camp had been presented
to Stephanie on the same day. The public
courtship, and the secret attachment, proceeded
at the same time, and nearly at the same pace:
two or three interviews had decided both, and
the rapidity of each was astonishing. The
marshal and his aid-de-camp were equally the
sport of their feelings. The one was sure
of marrying Stephanie, and was raised to the
highest pinnacle of an old man’s rapture. The
other was sure of losing her, and sunk in the
depths of youthful despair.

The whole business was so sudden, that
Stephanie was half bewildered. Her consent
to the alliance had been scarcely demanded : it
was proposed, and she made no objection. The
surrender of her affections had never been
asked ; yet they were irrevocably disposed of.
The conduct of the rivals, too, was not a little
embarrassing. The marshal had never talked

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 901

of love, but a great deal of the importance of
his functions, and the dignity of his station.
Eugene had never declared his sentiments, but
Stephanie suspected them from his looks, and
other tokens which lovers only can understand.
But he had not dared to speak out; and the
preparations for the union were all arranged,
and the day fixed, without his venturing to tell
Stephanie in plain terms, that he loved her.
She knew very well that he did love her not-
withstanding, and he saw that his passion was
returned with an ardour that fully equalled his
own. But it seemed utter insanity to indulge
the slightest hope; and the young couple mu-
tually and tacitly submitted to the certainty of
their despair.

Eugene was the marshal’s favourite ofiicer,
and it was on him that the negotiations devolved
which led to the matrimonial preparatives.
Public business occupied the marshal inces-
santly up to the very day of his projected
wedding; while his youthful deputy was con-
stantly despatched with messages and letters.
He had strict orders to bring matters to as

202 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

speedy a conclusion as possible; for, as the
marshal used to say, “The affairs of a great
nation ought not to wait on the trifling of in-
dividuals.”

On the morning fixed on for the wedding,
Eugene was sent with a verbal message from
the marshal, to be delivered to Stephanie her-
self. “You will tell her,” said the marshal,
“that I am in utter despair at being obliged to
disappoint her anxiety, and strike such a blow
to her affection”—(Eugene’s heart was bound-
ing, and almost bursting through his breast)—
“but that matters of state have unexpectedly
occurred, which make it totally impossible for
me to fulfil my engagement to go to church
this morning”—(Eugene nearly fainted from
emotion)—“ until half an hour after the ap-
pointed time.” Eugene made an obeisance,
staggered out of the house, and, more dead
than alive, hastened to mount his horse, and
rode up to Stephanie’s dwelling.

When he arrived, the bustle and magnificence
of preparation nearly drove him mad. A Pa-

risian marriage is a grand and boisterous affair,

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 203

and this was intended to be one of the most
distinguished every way. Eugene asked for
the count. He was dressing. “The countess ?”
“ Dressing.” “ Mademoiselle?” She was al-
ready dressed, and anxiously waiting the mar-
shal in the drawing-rcom.”

«« Anxiously! I must see her, then, imme-
diately,” cried Eugene, in a fierce tone, of which
the servants did not comprehend the meaning,
and of which Eugene was himself unconscious.
He was ushered in, and there sat Stephanie
alone, decked out in roses which had no fellow-
tinge upon her cheek, and in finery which ill-
assorted with her heart's misery. Eugene
stammered forth his message in a voice so
choked and faltering, that Stephanie, unable to
restrain herself, burst into tears. To what
frenzy does not excessive love at times drive on
his victims! Eugene, for a moment, believed
Stephanie’s tears to flow from offended vanity
and pride, and little suspected that she did not
comprehend one word of the marshal’s message,
while shocked at the appearance and manner

of its bearer. The hapless messenger stood

204 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES,

awhile dumb and stupified; but she wept so
bitterly, that he could not resist her distress,
and advancing some paces towards her, asked
if he should summon the servants.

“And would you, for the poor triumph of
displaying your power over me, expose my
despair ?”

‘* Despair! Power over you! What do I
hear? Oh! speak out, speak out, my Stepha-
nie!—Tell me, do I deceive myself, or are
these your real sentiments ?”

“Spare me—spare me their confession,” cried
she ; “surely you are conscious of my misery !”

1?

“ You love me, then !” exclaimed he, throwing
himself on his knees before her—“ now, then,
let me die; I have lived long enough !”

He here took her hand, on which he im-
printed a thousand burning kisses—and a scene
ensued which not even the actors could describe.
They had recovered their calmness in some
degree; and were exchanging consolations on
their mutual despair, when an outrider of the
marshal galloped into the court-yard; and ina

moment more a servant entered the room, to

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 205

inform Stephanie that the impatient veteran
had abandoned all matters of state and busi-
ness, and was driving up to the house in the
utmost haste. At the abrupt delivery of this
message, Eugene started up, hurried to the
window, and seeing the superb open carriage
containing the marshal, and followed by his
splendid suite, he attempted, without knowing
what he did, to fly from the scene ; but tottered
when he reached the middle of the chamber,
and fell, without sense or motion, on the floor.

The wretched and fainting Stephanie, roused
to sensation, and half frantic, flew towards the
sufferer, and threw herself on her knees beside
him. She would have cried for help, but she
was almost suffocating, and could not utter a
sound. In this crisis the door was flung open,
and, with all the pomp and solemnity suitable
to his state—in came the marshal, ushered by
the happy father, leading the mother in his
hand, and followed by a crowd of common
friends. Imagination may picture the surprise,
the disappointment, and the compassion which

actuated more or less the several witnesses.

206 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

“ You love him, then2” said the father, after
sonte broken explanations on the part of Ste-
phanie. “ Indeed, indeed, I do!” replied she.

« And you, Captain de S , you love my
daughter 2?”

« To distraction, count!” cried Eugene, who

had recovered his senses, and burned with hope
at the turn which affairs were taking.

“ Then, by heavens you shall be her husband
—and no one but you! What say you, mar-
shal ?”

«“ Why, my dear count, I am a man of few
words, and it strikes me that little can be said
on an affair like the present.— Besides, public
business of great importance waits for me—and
my functions are manifold. I can only, there-
fore, assure you, that the happiness of your
daughter being the first object of my desires—
next to the duties which my public functions
impose—I am enchanted to have discovered
the method of promoting it. I shall, therefore,
beg to retire, offering to Mademoiselle Ste-
phanie the assurance of my profound homage,
the use of my equipage which waits below, and

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 207

my advice that she and my friend Eugene set
off to the church without delay, nor disappoint
the priest and the amiable society which sur-
round me.”

The marriage of the lovers was in conse-
quence celebrated, but not quite so quickly as
the marshal had recommended; and the count
had soon good reason to rejoice in his noble
conduct, for the changes of affairs hurled the
marshal from all his grandeur, and he soon after
died: while Eugene’s father having gone over,
and remained firm in his allegiance to the new
sovereign, the son was enabled to afford very
considerable protection to his wife’s family and
dependents, although without power to screen
her father altogether, as has been already seen.

In addition to this trait of disinterestedness
in the character of her father, Madame de
S
of equal liberality; and she accounted for his

made me acquainted with several others

present influence and security among the people
of the Landes, by informing me that he had
been intimately connected with the district, by

208 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

public employments and constant efforts for its
improvement, for the last twenty years.

The short twilight of this climate was now
passing rapidly over, and when we reached La
Teste, it had become nearly dark. As we ap-
proached “ The French Crown,” the exile and
Eugene stopped till we joined them, and we
then walked all together towards the inn. “ Here |
are, no doubt, your quarters, sir?” asked the
exile. ‘* Yes,” replied I. “ And here, too, are
we going to take our last repast together, my
daughter,” added he, taking one of her hands
in both of his.

“‘Oh say not so, my dear father !” she replied.
“ There may be yet bright days in store for
us: once escaped to a land of liberty, you may
securely look forward to some change—and
none can be for the worse. Cheer up, my fa-
ther. I cannot express to you how my heart
feels lightened from having communicated to
this amiable stranger so many acts of your vir-
tue. Heaven will not, surely, cast off so good

a man.”

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 209

** Ah!” said he, mournfully, “If Heaven did
always favour the good in this life, how few
would take the trouble to be vicious! But we
must hope for that justice hereafter, which we
find not here.—But how durst I speak thus?
Am I not justly punished? Heaven knows my
guilt, and will not be appeased.—Then let me
suffer !”

With these words, rapidly uttered, he rushed
into the inn, and mounted the stairs. Eugene
and Stephanie followed; and they all three en-
tered a chamber where I observed a table laid
with preparations for supper. I was glad to
leave them awhile to themselves—so I retired
to my own room, where I had the luxury of
getting rid of my clothes, still soaked from the
adventure on the beach. The operation of
changing being completed, I descended, and
resolved not to intrude upon the privacy of the
party above—I was making my way to the
kitchen, the usual resort for amusement and
information in houses of this kind. As I ap-
proached the door, [ heard first loud speaking,

and then a burst of merriment from several
VOL. ie P

210 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

mingled voices, but one of which appeared
familiar to my ears. ‘This was succeeded by a
hushed attention, while some one spoke to the
following effect—in sounds which I thought I
recognized.

“Yes, my lads! as 1 was saymg, ****
many a gentleman follows by choice what an
artist pursues professionally. If I choose, for
example, to cook a supper for a friend, I
honour my office, ****! instead of it de-
grading me.—Hand me that frying-pan, Marie!
Jump! ****! if you had but half the ac-
tivity of your cousin Cazille, there might be
some hope of you; but you'll never be more
than a slovenly kitchen-wench, never !”

Astonishment and alarm for my friends above
held me breathless, as he went on.

“ Yes, gentlemen, you may despise the arts
of the kitchen; but you forget, ****! that
Gallienus, though an emperor, was chiefly
famed for his culinary knowledge—that Cad-
mus the great, great grandfather of Bacchus,
and founder of Thebes, was cook to the king
of Sidon! do you know’—

7

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 911

Although sure of my man, I wanted still a
visual proof of his identity, and I gently pushed
the door, which was already partly open. Be-
fore me was the kitchen fire, on one side of
which were four sailors drinking, and at the
other stood Monsieur the Inspector of the
Forests, with his back towards me, his head
covered with a white cotton cap, his coat off,
his shirt sleeves tucked up, a long apron tied
round his waist, a knife in one hand, a frying-
pan in the other—and altogether, in short, a
figure fit for the frontispiece of a cookery book.
The flow of his eloquence was for a moment
interrupted by his occupation; and as I had
seen and heard enough to satisfy me every
way, I made a precipitate retreat up stairs, and,
without any ceremony, entered the room where
the party was seated.

“Pardon me, sir,” said I, addressing the
principal personage; “I do not wish need-
lessly to alarm you, but I fear there is danger
of your being discovered !”

“ How!” exclaimed the two gentlemen, start-
P2

212 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

ing from their chairs, “ Have you seen any
one 2”

“Yes,” said I, “that very questionable per-
son the inspector of the forests is at this mo-
ment in the house.”

“Indeed! In the kitchen, I hope,” said the
father.

“Ts that all?” cried Eugene.

“Oh! poor La Broche!” exclaimed Ste-
phanie; and a smile which would, in happier
circumstances, have expanded toa hearty laugh,
was exhibited on each of their countenances.

“To remove your astonishment, my good
sir,” said the stranger, “ know that that poor
fellow was my cook for many years, until,
through the interest of my son-in-law here,
when I was ruined, he got the appointment
which now brings him to this place—that he
has been the chief instrument in procuring
means for my escape—and is at this moment
dressing my supper, as a last mark of his
respect.”

*“Your cook! Is it possible!” exclaimed I—

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. A Iss

‘but he has been a soldier—a serjeant of dra-
goons ?” |

“‘ Yes, yes, he had the rank to entitle him to
forage and allowances.”

** Known to, and distinguished by all the
marshals, and most of the generals, for his
courage ?”

“For his cowardice, his conceit, and his
cookery.”

“ He has made the campaigns of Italy, Ger-
many, and Russia ?”

«True; in my kitchen.”
“ 'Then his wounds?”
‘** His wounds !”
** Yes! the loss of his finger?”

« Oh! in chopping off the tail of a leg of
mutton.”

« The scar on his forehead ?”

* Received in falling over an iron pot one
evening, when drunk.”

The cut across his cheek 2?”

«“ Given him by a scullion with a carving
knife, in return for a volley of curses, and the
stroke of a soup-ladle on the shoulders.”

214 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

‘“‘ But his fluent discourse—his knowledge of
ancient names—his acquaintance with Cadmus,
Bacchus, Gallienus, Lycurgus, Apicius ad

« Picked up here and there from books
which touch upon cookery, and strung together
for his use, most probably by some poor peda-

gogue.”
“ Ts it possible ?”
« Are you satisfied ?”
“ Perfectly !”
« Then sit down to supper, for here it comes.”
And true enough the supper was coming,
for the savoury fumes of soup appeared at the
door; and in the midst of them was enveloped
the fiery face of the inspector, who bore him-
self the smoking tureen. He advanced with
proud strides towards the table, and was just
in the act of placing the tureen in the centre,
when, by ill luck, his eyes encountered mine,
fixed full upon him with a stare of many com-
binations. The shock was like that of an elec-
tric battery, and made him bound and spring
sideways, plump against Ranger, who lay
stretched under a corner of the table-cloth,

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 215

when he stumbled and fell upon the fragile
table, which broke down with a crash, mingling
in one common ruin soup, dishes, plates, glasses,
and all the paraphernalia of the forthcoming
repast.

Curses from the inspector—roars of laughter
from Eugene and myself—screams of inquiry
from the landlady, and of explanation from the
maid—with piercing yells from poor Ranger,
who was more frightened than hurt, formed
the accompaniments to this exhibition of mis-
hap. Even the exile and Stephanie found it
impossible to resist a momentary feeling of
mirth—but he soon relapsed into serious looks,
and Eugene and I caught the contagion; the
landlady and the maid hushed their screams,
and put on grave faces, from veneration to the
count; Stephanie was silent and sad; so when
the mortified inspector scrambled out of the
ruins and stood before us, wiping the soup
from his face with his drenched and scalding
night-cap, he met nothing but a group of blank
and dismal countenances, on which to repose
his agitation.

216 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

“****I” said he, looking wofully at me,
“ what devil has brought you here to catch me
in this pickle, and destroy the best consommée
ever tasted within the walls of The French
Crown ?”

He was quite crest-fallen, and had totally lost
his bullying tone. I pitied the poor fellow, for
I remembered his hospitality ; and I liked the
humility which made him, for gratitude, de-
scend from his new-born honours to his former
station. I therefore stretched out my hand to
him, saying, ‘“‘ Never mind, never mind, Mon-
sieur the Inspector: we can all sup without
soup, I am certain.”

“Oh yes! that we can,” was echoed round ;
and he looked somewhat consoled.

“But ****! to be caught in a cook’s cap
and apron!” i

“ What of that!” said I. “A gentleman
often follows by choice what an artist pursues
professionally—and if you choose to cook a
supper for a friend, you honour the office, in-
stead of its degrading you.”

‘ A generous sentiment, * * * *! and expressed

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 917

in my own words! Yes,” added he, winking
significantly yet respectfully towards the others,
ves, these gentlemen and this lady know that
I have dabbled in the kitchen as an amateur,
and like now and then to relax from my labours
—fanning myself with a gridiron, or shaking
hands with a stewpan*.” This sally was fol-
lowed by the self-approving laugh (which yet
tingles in my reader’s ears, I hope), for it ap-
peared that the inspector could not restrain his
jocularity, even in the presence of his patrons.

“ Well, well, La Broche,” said the exile,
“ forget the soup, and think now of what fol-
lows it. Go, change your uncomfortable trap-
pings, and join us at the supper which we owe
to your skill. Make haste; for you know time
does not wait for me, nor tide neither.”

The inspector bowed low, and retreated to
arrange his toilette. The exile heaved a deep

* This last remark appears to have been borrowed,
heaven knows how, from that savoury work ‘‘ The Cook’s
Oracle ;’—a book which every man must relish, who
likes sound sense garnished with genuine humour, pages

of “sauce piquante,” and precepts at once philosophic
and palatable.

218 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

sigh, the first which had escaped him in my
presence. His children echoed it more heavily ;
and their sadness infected me. The new mo-
delling the architecture of the tables diverted
my attention for awhile; and supper was soon
followed by the appearance of the re-organized
inspector, who took a chair at one end of the
table, with an ease, as if he was quite in his
proper place; and he was treated by his former
master with a cordiality which would look odd
to persons not accustomed to the continent, but
which, somehow, does not there seem at all un-
dignified or degrading.

The repast went silently on, four-fifths of the
party lost in thought—the remaining one more
substantially employed. When the inspector
appeared to be about half-done eating, and the
rest of us were entirely satisfied, the door was
opened by the landlady, who advanced, with a
corner of her apron to her eyes, and sobbed out
to the exile that a poor fellow below-stairs en-
treated permission to come up, and express his
gratitude and duty.

“No, my good woman, not now,” said the

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 219

exile: “do spare me any unnecessary scenes
of sorrow.”

“ Ah! sir, it is not sorrow that makes me
weep just now. There will be time enough for
that in half an hour hence—when you are going
to leave us for ever, and perhaps to be swal-
lowed up in the wide ocean, or dashed to pieces
against the rocks. You will see that I can be
as sorrowful then as any one in La Teste; but
at present I am crying for happiness, because
poor Geoffroi, the carrier, is laughing and cry-
ing, and singing and dancing altogether in the
kitchen, half wild with joy.”

This combination of methodical sentiment,
horrible anticipations, and ill-timed happiness,
was sufficiently ludicrous to light up the features
of the exile with another gleam—but it was like
the latent glimmer of an expiring lamp, for he
smiled no more that night.

“Then let poor Geoffroi come up. It will
be a comfort to me to see one heart happy in
this heavy hour, and honest enough to put on
no mask cf sorrow. Send him up!”

The landlady tripped across the room, and

290 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

called shrilly at the door for Geoftroi, who an-
swered in person, by popping in his head, as
soon almost as she had pronounced his name.

“ Here I am, sir,” said he: “I knew you
would let me in, so I followed Madame Benoist
up stairs, and waited outside. Oh! my noble
count—for I would give you your title though
your neck was under the guillotine—how am I
to thank your bounty? My heart was break-
ing for your sake, and you have mended it all
for my own—and a little for Cazille’s, to be
sure! Oh! sir, your generosity has been near
killing me—but I am easier now that I can —
thank you.”

“Your discourse is quite a mystery to me,
my good fellow—you owe me no thanks.—I
have shown you no bounty.—What do you
mean 2”

“ Ah! I knew how it would be, count; and
I told my mother, and Madame Benoist below-
stairs, and Marie, and the sailors all, that you
would deny the fact as flat as a criminal at the
place of execution.”

These home strokes, sent out by Geoffroi in

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 921

the way of illustration, did not at all ruffle the
exile; but they were torturing to Stephanie
and Eugene, and dyed my face a deep scarlet ;
while the inspector took them so much to heart,
that he started up, and, with genuine delicacy,
called out fiercely to Geoftroi,

** What do you mean, * * * *! you sneaking
dog, to talk of executions and guillotines to the
count there, who is condemned to and flying
from both the one and the other? Have you
no sense of decorum in your stupid head?
Monsieur, you must excuse the fellow’s blunt-
ness for his honesty’s sake. He’s an honest
fellow, * ***! after all.”

Thank you, Monsieur the Inspector,” re-
plied Geoffroi; “ it is well for every man who
has so good an excuse for his roughness. And
thank you once more, noble sir, in my own
name and that of my dear Cazille. These
hundred francs (chinking five gold Napoleons
in his hand), these hundred francs will make
us the happiest couple in the Landes; and we
will bless you for them every day, night and

morning—after to-morrow, when, God willing,

222 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

we shall be married, and not much at leisure
for any thing else.”

He here blubbered like a child, and laughed
most irresistibly; and was meanwhile bowing
his way backwards towards the door, when the
exile addressed him, in that benevolent and
soothing tone which so fixed my attention on
our first meeting. ‘My good Geoffroi, I must
not suffer you to load me with unmerited praise.
This money did not come from me. My daughter
here, or her husband, perhaps, has taken this
method of rewarding poor Cazille’s attentions
and fidelity. For myself, I must candidly con-
fess that I forgot both you and her.”

“ Why yes,” said Stephanie, “I did, indeed,
give this sum to Cazille on leaving the inn this
morning; but I scarcely know how Geoffroi
could have received it without knowing who it
came from.”

* You gave a hundred francs to Cazille, ma-
dame?” exclaimed Geoffroi, hysterically; “ then
we are rich indeed, for this money came from
some other source. I got it half an hour ago
from the post-office, enclosed in this paper.”

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 993

He here produced a letter addressed to

** Monsieur Geoftroi, the Carrier,
Living with his mother,
La Teste.”

Within was written, “ From a friend;” and
in it had been enclosed the five gold pieces.

“Then,” exclaimed the exile, “this secret .
doer of good must have been no other than La
Broche himself! Come, come, La Broche, do
not be ashamed of a generous deed. Look up,
man, and receive the honest fellow’s thanks.”

The inspector waved his hand, in rejection of
praise or acknowledgment—rubbed his whiskers
—pulled up his shirt collar—muttered a few
nothings—and, in short, displayed all the pitiful
and paltry flirtations of those who accept of
thanks for services never performed.

“ What a scoundrel!” thought I to myself,
as I turned in disgust towards the window, and
while poor Geoffroi loaded his supposed bene-
factor with blessings, and offers of himself, his
cart and oxen, for ever and ever, to carry
Monsieur the Inspector from La Teste to Bor-
deaux and back again, with all his stores of

994 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

eatables—barring fish, which he never admitted
among other goods!

The whole party joined in honouring the in-
spector’s liberal donation; and I warrant that
Geoffroi is to this day ignorant to whom he
owes his wedding gift.

The hour of departure now fast arriving, La
Broche was despatched to make the final ar-
rangements with the sailors who waited below.
The exile seemed to summon up every energy
of his soul to meet the separation from all that
was dear to him. His daughter was quite over-
powered as the moment arrived ; and her tem-
porary calm was succeeded by a whirlwind of
anguish and despair. She threw herself on
her father’s neck, as though she would have
clung there for ever; and the scene becoming
insupportably painful, I retired from the cham-
ber, quitted the house, and walked out upon
the beach.

The night was quite dark, for the moon had
not yet risen. ‘There was not a breath of wind.
Nothing was to be seen near me but the little
boat, just beginning to float on the tide which

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 995

was now fullin, and three or four fishing vessels
with the dusky huts of their owners close by,
made visible by their scanty lights. The waves
rippled onwards with a mournful murmur, and
I thought every thing was suited to the melan-
choly of the moment. In less than ten minutes
I distinguished the party leaving the inn, lighted
by the landlady, the inspector, and Geoffroi.
The exile seemed in the act of consoling his
daughter, while Eugene stepped on before to
place some trifles in the boat. No sooner did
they reach the beach, than a number of the
poor inhabitants came round them, weeping
real tears of honest attachment, and sending
up prayers which came from the bottom of their
hearts. The exile walked through these groups
with an air at once noble and gracious; and
approaching me, he took me by the hand.

“ Well, sir,” said I, returning his cordial pres-
sure, “ this farewell is surely consolatory.”

“Tt is,” replied he, “I acknowledge it. I
was always an ambitious man, and loved to be-
lieve myself the people’s idol. This is the first

VOL. Il. Q

2296 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

moment in which I could be certain of their at-
tachment, and it is delightful!”

As the resin torches threw their red glare on
his face, I saw that his eyes were swimming in
tears.

“© No,” said he, “they willnot out. I would
weep, but that is a luxury long, long denied
me. You see me moved—I am not ashamed
of it. Shouts of victory—my personal suffer-
ings—my children’s anguish—the memory of
my mourning and desolate wife—nothing could
have brought the moisture to my eyes but this
unquestionable proof of public regard. This —
is my proudest triumph. I will and must
cherish it.” 7

He then turned to the people, and addressed
them for a few minutes in a strain of exalted
eloquence and feeling. His discourse having
been chiefly political, it is not necessary to at-
tempt a skeleton record of it here. Every sen-
timent was noble, and every sentence well-ex-
pressed. He spoke to them of their duties as

citizens and subjects; gave them honest and

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 90%

sound advice; and compressed into this brief
and unpremeditated harangue matter which a
less skilful orator might have swelled to ten times
its extent. 'The effect of this address was pro-
digious on both the speaker and his audience.
Every one of his listeners seemed elevated be-
yond the common height of feeling and charac-
ter; and these simple fishermen showed like a
band of bold and well-informed beings, while
the very women participated in their looks of
energy and intelligence.

When he ceased, a murmur of applause ran
round the circle which encompassed him; and
one Voice, more daring than the rest, ventured,
or perhaps could not repress, a shout. The
impulse thus given, a cheering and simulta-
neous burst escaped from the crowd, and re-
sounded in a dozen distinct repetitions along
the beach.

** Now, my friend,” said he, addressing me
with a mien of glowing energy, ‘“ now then,
farewell! Your generous sympathy has sunk
deep in my heart; and we may meet, perhaps,
again—when [ shall be able to express my gra-

Q2

228 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

titude in the way I like the best. I am no
longer sunk in gloom. Hope sheds her lights
upon my soul; and this night, so lately the
most miserable, is transformed by her magic
touch to the happiest of many a year.—In thus
parting from you, I have but one request to
make. My name is unknown to you. Do not
seek to find it out: for I would not have it
reach your knowledge, unaccompanied by the
explanation of that crime which has most di-
stinguished it, and which none but I could give
you. Should you, however, discover it by
chance, and with it learn the secret of my
shame and my remorse, shrink not from my
recollection as from something monstrous; but
remember I am mortal, punished, and peni-
tent!”

I made no answer but by a pressure of the
hand—for it was one of those moments in which
I dared not trust to words.—He acknowledged
my reply in the same way, with equal warmth ;
and then turned towards his daughter. Her
aspect was quite changed. She was no longer

depressed or in tears. The eloquence and

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 299

heroic bearing of her father, and the enthu-
siasm it produced in the people, had worked
on her as on the rest. She embraced him
with fondness, but at the same time with anima-
tion. While they were locked in each other’s
arms, a flash appeared far out in the bay, and
then the report of cannon rolled along the
waters.

“ Hark! The signal for sailing!” exclaimed
the exile.

« Away, then, my father, away!” said Ste-
phanie.

‘‘ Adieu, noblest, best of men!” cried Eu-
gene.

«“ Bless you! bless you!” burst from every
other tongue. The exile stepped into the boat
and seized the helm, as I gazed on his face for
the last time. The sailors took their oars—
another, and another gun sent out its signal-
flash and its swelling peal.—Answering shouts
from the shore returned the salute—the splash-
ing of the oars on the water soon died away—
and the sparkling lustre which they struck

930 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

from the waves was in a little more lost in the
darkness.

I stood for a while riveted to the spot, as the
actors of this scene gradually retired. I soon
found that I was alone, and I turned my steps
towards the inn. In the yard stood Eugene
and Stephanie. They were just preparing to
mount their horses, being determined to gain
the forest inn that night, so as to reach Bor-
deaux the next morning. They only waited
for the inspector, who was to accompany them
to the borders of the Landes, where they were
to separate, for fear of attracting observation ;
and, finally, Geoftroi was setting out on foot,
to throw himself into Cazille’s arms, and en-
treat her to accompany him to the altar on the
morrow.

I took a cordial farewell of the affectionate
daughter and her well-matched mate. He
parted from me like a friend. Her voice did
not falter when she bade me adieu! but I saw
her face in the faint light of the hostler’s candle.
It was deadly pale, and I thought the excite-

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 991

ment which hitherto supported her had nearly
died away. But on observing her more closely,
I remarked a brilliancy in her eyes, which
seemed the offspring of some high resolve, and
shone on her pallid cheeks—like the sun on a
bed of snow—with painful and almost unnatural
lustre.

They rode off; and, as I entered the house,
the inspector caught my attention, making his
way out of the kitchen—his mouth crammed—
his jaws at work—a huge unpicked bone in one
hand, and a bottle in the other—the first of
which he was striving to stuff into his mouth,
and the latter inte his pocket—while a confused
jumble of suffocating sounds was vainly strug-
gling for utterance from his overloaded maw.
Geoffroi was ushering him out and carrying his
sabre, pistols, whip, and great-coat, with the
willing obsequiousness of gratitude. I thought
them a fine contrast, as I walked up the stairs,
and gave to one a smile of good-will, and the
other a sneer of contempt, while I compared
their characters, and shut my door behind me.

*

32 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES:

I set out the next morning, in a different
direction from that by which I had approached
La Teste; and that part of the country having
no farther interest for me, I left it to be exa-
mined more minutely by those to whom it

might offer new attractions.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 933

CHAPTER VII.

DistaNT countries and different pursuits
soon called off my attention from dwelling on
these scenes; and in some time from my leaving
La Teste, my mind only retained the recollec-
tion, but had lost the fresh imprint of my ad-
venture. It so happened, that immediately
after having bade adieu to the Landes, I quitted
the country altogether, and seas and mountains
intervened to cut off the sources of information
respecting it. I heard of proscription lists and
pardons, and deaths, and other casualties among
the condemned or exiled persons obnoxious to
punishment, or considered worthy of mercy ;
and many names reached me publicly, but not
one which gave me any clew to the knowledge
of the Exile’s fate. I felt also his last request
as a serious obligation, and I therefore sought
no direct means of obtaining any intimation of
his name.

Circumstances threw me once more into

France in eighteen months after my parting

934 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

with him; and in the midst of that season, when
frost and snow with us wrap comfort in its
winding-sheet, and famine stares the wretched
in the face, I found myself walking in a richly
swelling country—where the olive, the pome-
granate, and the fig-tree were still in bloom;
where the hum of bees, and the sighing breath
of the south, formed the music of the air; while
orange-groves and myrtles poured a fragrance
upon months, which were elsewhere wintery.

I had entered France at a quarter far distant
from that which had been the scene of this
story, and was, 2s usual, musing my way through
the by-roads of a beautiful landscape, when I
came, at the approach of evening, to a village
that seemed decorated with all the preparations
for a féte. The houses were decked out with
the whole finery of their interior ornaments ;
curtains and counterpanes were hung upon the
walls; the treasures of the gardens were dis-
played in the windows; festoons dangled across
the little street; preparations for bonfires were
ready on the road; and every one was dressed
in the high-holiday costume of the country.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 935

On a rising ground, close to the village, the
upper part of a handsome mansion was dis-
coverable through tasteful plantations and vine-
yards. It had every appearance of wealth and
respectability ; and, as the gate which opened
on its fine avenue of palm-trees seemed to in-
vite the crowds of peasantry, collecting from
every point, I deposited the appendages of my
journey in the village inn, and, with my stick in
my hand, joined one of the groups which were
ascending towards the house.

Whenever I want information on occasions
of this nature, I invariably address myself to
some old peasant, from whose frankness I am
sure of sincerity, while the garrulity of age
makes such a chronicler invaluable.

“* A joyous scene this, my friend,” said I, sa-
luting a little, active old man, in whose sharp
chestnut-coloured visage, and fiery black eyes,
shone the intelligence which marks the charac-
ter of his country.

“ You may well say that, sir. When an
honest man returns to his home, after nearly

two years banishment, the scene which wel-

2936 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

comes his coming should be joyous; and when
the returning exile happens to be of conse-
quence, by rank and wealth, as well as by
virtue, it is a proud day for the country.”

By one of those irresistible strokes of convic-
tion, which sometimes determine us, on lighter
proof than this, I was on the instant satisfied
in my own mind that fate had thrown me here
to witness the triumphant return of the perse-
cuted and pardoned Exile of the Landes. I
burned with excessive curiosity, or any better
feeling the reader likes; but I would not suffer
a question to escape me that might lead to the
mention of the name, which I was now resolved
not to hear but from his own lips. I was, how-
ever, anxious to be certain that my belief was
well grounded, and I went on. ‘“‘ When is the
count expected to arrive ?”

“ In an hour certainly.”

*‘ Ts the countess at home ?”

“ Where else would she be on such a day as
this?”

“ And his daughter and her husband 2”

Oh! they are at the house too, I suppose.”

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 937

These answers left me no doubt, and I walked
up the avenue without any more hesitation ;
and filled with a nervous yet pleasurable anxiety,
which—like a summer breeze on the breast of
ocean—seemed at once to rufile and warm my
bosom.

When we arrived close to the house, the
appearance of every thing was beautifully strik-
ing. It was an edifice of noble structure, built
in the regular and simple majesty of Grecian
taste. All was on a princely scale—facade,
columns, balcony, and balustrades. In front
was an extensive lawn, bounded by a terrace
of considerabie extent. Here were laid out
tables, covered with a profusion of costly re-
freshments, of which all comers seemed in-
discriminately to partake. Several groups of
dancers exhibited on the grass—and the music,
the flowers, the silk flags, and other emblems
of rejoicing, seemed all as it were reflections
from a sky of the brightest hue and purest
serenity.

My eye sought, amidst the crowd of well-
dressed gentry and gaudily-attired peasants,

938 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

for Stephanie and her husband, but in vain.
It then asked for the mistress of the féte, and
soon fixed itself upon the person of a tall and
handsome female, whose air of happiness, and
hospitable activity, pronounced her to be the
object of its inquiry. Knowing that my foreign
appearance must have attracted notice, and
impatient to explain that I had some claims to
offer, in excuse of my apparent intrusion, |
advanced towards the lady, and told her that,
having arrived by accident in the neighbour-
hood, I had taken the hberty, though a stranger,
to join myself to the crowd of visitors who
had assembled to hail the joyous event of the
day. She replied, with a demeanour of noble
courtesy, that none were strangers at such a
time—but that all who felt an interest in the
return of her husband must be considered in
the light of friends.

“ Then, madame,” said I, “since as a mere
unknown you favour me with that title, | cannot
resist the pleasure of advancing a claim to it—
on slight grounds certainly—but stronger than

that universal feeling to which you grant the

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 239

privilege. In short, madame, I had the honour
of the count’s acquaintance, as well as that of
your amiable daughter and her husband; and
it would be difficult to express the sensation
with which I anticipate their recognition of me,
on such a day as this.”

“ You are then, sir, really a friend of my
husband’s !—I say a friend, for all who know
him are so. You formed his acquaintance,
then, during his hours of exile? You are an
American 2”

“ No, madame, I am a British subject.”

“ A British subject, and yet my husband’s
friend! Where then, or under what circum-
stances, could you have known him 2”

At this question I began, for the first in-
stant, to fear that I might be going too far, and
was, perhaps, mistaken. It was very possible
that some other person might be in question,
instead of my exile, and I felt a momentary em-
barrassment, which prevented my replying di-
rectly to the countess’s question.

« Ah! sir,” said she, “ I think I understand

you. You are, perhaps, one of those persons

240 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

who fled from England, during the late order
of things, with intelligence to our government
—and you may not, under present circum-
stances, wish to compromise yourself. Keep,
then, your secret, sir,—and excuse my impru-
dence.”

The devil! thought I—am [, on all occa-
sions and circumstances, to appear to the mem-
bers of this family—if it is the same family—in
the loathsome aspect of a spy, an informer, or
a traitor !

“Madame, you mistake me,” exclaimed I

ith warmth. ‘ If I could have the pleasure

of seeing your daughter or her husband, they
could give an answer to your dishonouring
supposition.”

** Pardon me, sir, I entreat you,” cried the
countess—“ in the confusion and flutter of my
feelings, I scarcely know what I say.—But
here comes my daughter, Madame de V——,
and her husband, who will receive you accord-
ing to your merit, and make my apologies.”

The reader may well believe that at the
name of Madame de V—— I was thunder-

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 94)

struck, forno sound could be more unlike than
. it was to that of Madame de S I turned
round, only to have my worst fears most fully
confirmed ; for in the lady who approached I
saw a total stranger, young and handsome cer-
tainly, but not half as handsome as Madame de
S——-, of short stature, and inclined to embon-
point—while the gentleman, on whose arm she
leaned, was a meagre, stiff-looking, powder
personage, of upwards of forty.

“ Here, my dear Lucille,” said the countess,
in an habitually gracious, but hurried tone, as
if her mind was any where but with me—“ here
is a very particular friend of yours and Mon-
sieur de V

, as well as of your dear father.”

Madame de V—— dropped me a low and
astonished curtsy ; her husband flung upwards
a supercilious salutation; and I exclaimed—

“ Your pardon, madame. I said neither old
nor particular—I said a mere acquaintance—
and did not even mention the name of Monsieur
de V——. In short, madame, I am all error
and confusion.—I quite mistook your house,

VOL. II. R

949 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

family, and husband, who I now find is a totally
different person from the count, my friend.”

“ Sir, I am sincerely sorry for your embar-
rassment.— Who—what count could you have
meant in similar circumstances with my hus-
band 2”

“ Who—what count?—Why, madame—
really and—honestly—I cannot answer your
question! I am quite ignorant of his name—it
is now a long time since I saw him—and then
only once. I can only say, madame, that his
daughter, for whom I had mistaken this lady,
was much handsomer—that is, rather taller,
madame—and not so fat—somewhat more slen-
der, I should say.—In fact, madame, her hus-
band was not so old—I mean he was a good
deal younger than this young gentleman.—In
short, their names were Monsieur and Madame
de S
subject.”

‘‘ Heavens!” cried Madame de V——, not
at all annoyed or confused at my blundering,

, and that is really all I can say on the

“the gentleman means my dear sister, Ste-
phanie.”

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 943

“The very same, madame!” exclaimed I, in
the utmost delight. ‘“ Stephanie—your dear
sister, Stephanie—and her husband Eugene—
your dear brother-in-law Eugene—and your
husband—(How stupid !)—your father, I mean,
madame. Quite a different looking man—
much older—that is, not quite so young looking.
—JIn short, ladies, I am enchanted, and almost
beside myself, to find that I am right after all,”
cried I, wiping away the dew of agitation and
confusion which overspread my brow.

«« And you did really know our dear Stepha-
nie, Eugene, and my father?”

“Yes, to be sure I did, my dear madame,
and passed several hours with them in the
Landes of Gascony, at the very latest moments
of your father’s stay in France !”

“ What! what!” cried the mother and
daughter together. ‘Is it then, indeed, true
that we see before us that liberal and generous
traveller, who was the solace of those dreadful
hours? Are you, sir, that man, and have we
hesitated an instant in acknowledging you, my
dear, dear sir !”

244 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

Here they took each a hand; and I am cer-
tain that had I given my countenance to their
wishes, they would have each possessed them-
selves of a cheek as well.

“ Ah! my friends,” said the mother to the
persons around her, “ look upon this gentleman
as one of yourselves. This, then, is he so fondly
mentioned by my Stephanie—who was the com-
panion of my dear husband’s last lingerings on
the shores of his beloved country—and whom
Heaven has sent to be the witness of his tri-
umphant return !”

While the company made me their acknow-
ledgments, she continued, “ Now, then, sir, you
will enter our dwelling in your true capacity as
a friend of the house*. Follow me; and as you
have only seen my husband in the poor disguise
of an exiled criminal, let me show you his sem-
blance in his days of rank and distinction.”

I followed, with Madame de V——, by the
grand entrance into the house; and, passing
through vestibule, ante-chamber, and saloons,

* Ami de la maison.

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 945

Yeached at length a little bowdoir—that elegant
sanctuary of every Frenchwoman with any pre-
tension to fashion. ‘The furniture and decora-
tions were in a style correspondent to the whole
appearance of the house. <A recess contained
a bed of the most costly kind, from which the
countess drew aside the curtain, and displayed,
hanging against the wall, a portrait of her hus

band in the full costume of a general officer,
and glowing in the splendid colouring of manly
beauty and military distinction. ‘This fine ex-
hibition filled me with delight ; and I anticipated
with new pride my meeting the noble original
as a friend. ‘The transition to his daughter
was a matter of course: and I inquired if I was
not to have the pleasure of seeing Stephanie
and her husband.

“See her! oh! that you shall, sir;” replied
the countess with brimful eyes, “ and in a situa-
tion fitting so rare and inestimable a daughter.
You shall see her the returning companion of
her father—she who was the comfort and sup-
port of his banishment.”

«* How, madame! I do not comprehend you.

946 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

Surely Madame de S—— did not accompany
her father 2”

“No, sir, but she followed him almost im-
mediately. When my dear Stephanie, over-
powered by grief, had nearly sunk under its
excess, and was roused to a new existence by
the eloquent farewell of her father—to which
you also were a listener—she took at the mo-
ment the inflexible resolution of sharing his
exile and his fate. Under that impulse, she
hurried his departure, as you saw; and having
communicated her intention to her husband,
whose thoughts were as her own, they only
returned here to embrace me and my dear Lu-
cille. Then hastening with the whole speed of
duty and affection, they embarked at the nearest
port, and, by a happy chance, the ship they
sailed in reached the shores of my husband’s
exile some days before that which carried him ;
and when he at length landed on the beach,
worn out and miserable by his agitated feelings
and long voyage, the first signals that he saw
were the outstretched arms of his daughter,

and his first harbour of repose her throbbing

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 94.7

and affectionate bosom.—From thenceforward,
till the hour when his pardon reached him, did
she and her husband pay back their debt
of gratitude by entire devotion to his service ;
and they now—even at this moment—approach
together, to share the rapturous welcome of
myself and my friends.”

Before I had time to express any one of the
emotions which this recital excited, the countess
resumed, “ But at this instant I recall to mind
that a letter is in my possession for you, sir.”

“ A letter for me, madame!”

“ Even so—a letter written by my husband
on board the vessel the very night you parted
from him, and sent by a fishing-boat to La
Teste the next morning. It was enclosed to
Monsieur de S$
he and you had alike quitted the place, and it

, to be given to you; but

was forwarded to him here, and reached him
the very day of his and Stephanie’s voluntary
banishment—which was indeed that of their
arrival from the Landes. Not knowing where
to discover you—being ignorant even of your
name—and willing still to hope that there was

248 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

a chance of your being one day led to this
house—they entrusted it to my care; and here
it is with the seal unbroken, and the contents
sacred from every eye.”

During this speech she had opened a satin-
wood secretary, where, after a little search, she
discovered the letter, which she put into my
hands. I took it with a mixed sensation of sur-
prise, gratification, and curiosity; and, being
anxious to indulge those feelings unobserved, I
begged the countess’s permission to retire into
the shrubbery, where I might be able to do so.
She assented—I bowed to her and Madame
de S

crowd had considerably increased; and much

, and passed out upon the lawn. The

bustle was excited by the arrival of an avant
courier, who announced that the travellers were
little more than a league distant, and that their
arrival could not be delayed beyond half an
hour at furthest.

My heart palpitated with pleasure; and, re-
solved not to lose a moment in perusing the
letter, which I felt an almost necessary pre-

paration for my meeting the count, I passed

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 249

hastily along the terrace to a little arbour at its
extremity. I had a full view of the road, the
avenue, and the grand entrance ; and I saw the
long train of dancers, with their garlands and
gay dresses, lining the approach as far as I
could distinguish. The air resounded with
music—every combination of pleasure seemed
to raise my mind to its highest pitch;—and in
this mood I broke the seal. The letter was
addressed

“TO THE GENEROUS STRANGER.
“On board my vessel. Thursday night.

* We have only just parted; yet I feel the
chain of circumstances which brought us to-
gether still unbroken—for something whispers
me that we shall meet again. Under this im-
pression, I cannot resist the impulse which leads
me to address you. One of a thousand pro-
bable chances may inform you of my name;
and I cannot endure the thought of your learn-
ing who and what I am, without knowing why
and wherefore I am so.

“ In the hurry and confusion which surround

250 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

me, and in the agitation of my harassed mind,
I can perform this task but in a broken and
imperfect manner.—I cannot presume to call
you friend—I will not address you by a colder
titlke—and I expect from your mind that libe-
rality which is promised by your manners.
“You have heard me accuse myself of a
great crime—you have heard the expressions
of my remorse. I spoke truly in the first in-
stance, and did not exaggerate in the latter.
Yes! to me, and me alone, must be attributed
the act which, more than all the congregated
crimes of ages, stamps the foulest stainjupon my
country. Yet do not shudder—this act was
mine—virtually mine, though many were con-
cerned in its accomplishment. I had the power
to have prevented it—to have saved, by one
word, my country from shame—myself from in-

famy—and my but I outrun myself.

* This self-accusing is all too true—yet, para-
doxical as it may seem, this very act was the
offspring of excess of virtuous feeling—of that
overstrained enthusiasm in politics, which, like

religious fanaticism, hurries its blindfold votaries

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 951

to the most monstrous deeds.—But when this
deed was done—when the veil fell from my eyes
—when the body of my virtuous and innocent
victim was stretched in death, and his blood
reeking to the heavens— twas then that I awoke
from my dream—that conviction of my enormity
burst upon me, and the demon of vengeance
uprising from the blood-drenched scaffold,
seemed to shake before me the scorpion whip
of retribution!—Even now I see the phantom
scourge—my pores send forth a flood of suf-
fering

“Tn the full flush of youthful vigour, 1 was
thrown into the midst of awful events.—I saw
the monstrous march of despotism, and I flung
myself before the fiend, to stop his strides or
be crushed in the struggle. It was no common
contest. It was the immortal rights of man
opposed to the powerful yet paltry workmgs
of tyranny—the wrestlings of liberty with op-
pression—the clash of intellect with intolerance
—the manacled but mighty arm of millions
against the nervous pressure of corruption.—
The popular mind was phrensied—what could

952 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

be looked for from its actions? We were
forced and goaded on to desperation—and the
crimson flood of guilt swept alike over tyrants
and slaves.

“ Will the warning be listened to? Will the
despots of our days look back on those which
are no more? Or will a bold, yet thoughtful
band throw themselves between mobs and ty-
rants, and force them to their own salvation!
The people never cast their eyes behind them.
-—Let their rulers think on the fact, and profit
by its knowledge.

“ T entered that assembly which was to open
the path to my country’s freedom, like a young
lover burning to embrace the idol of his heart
and his mind. My passions were roused—my
head onflame. Discussion followed discussion
—and frantic denunciations against royalty were
the forced fruits of the madness of monarchs.
They defied and denounced us. We dared
their contempt and their anathemas—we met
them in the conflict—and we triumphed!

“‘ In the assembly of the nation, of which I

was such a member as I paint myself, I had

Oo

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 953

three friends, over whom my control was so
unlimited, that they swore to follow my lead-
ing on every question, great or small. The
greatest of all questions came.—I had no waver-
ings—I gave my vote—my friends echoed the
sound—fatal and horrid sound! The die was
cast—the lists were reckoned—the majority an-
nounced. Four voices had decided the question
—or rather one voice, and that one mzne! The
sentence was DEATH—my king was sacrificed
—and J—

A REGICIDE"”

The first effect of this letter upon me was a
stupified astonishment—next came a bitter sor-
row, as if I had lost a friend by death—I then
resolved to quit the place for ever.

I do not mean to make here a confession of
my political faith; but I unhesitatingly avow
one of my political prejudices, the rather as it is
one which I intend religiously to preserve. I
mean my repugnance to the persons who con-
demned Louis X VI. to the scaffold. That some
of those persons may have been good men is a

954 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

startling, but, nevertheless, a very proveable
theorem. That a vile deed may be done from
a mistaken principle of right is too true—but in
the cause of liberty even—the noblest cause of
all—there is something which makes us shrink
from the name of an assassin. But in the case
where it is murder for its own sake—where the
victim is the victim of his virtues—where policy
and humanity alike forbid the blow—and where
it is struck merely that blood may follow it, the
mind is almost withered by the influence of the
deed it execrates. There is a sorcery in crime
of this sort which raises up a spirit of ever-en-
during horror.—Such I have ever considered
the deed in question; and although I have
striven to depict one of its perpetrators in the
light through which many of them should, no
doubt, be viewed—I could not venture the con-
tact of an intimate connexion with even such a
man—lest sympathy for the actor might weaken
my abhorrence for the act.

My resolution on reading his letter was then
‘instantly formed. I took a path leading to the
village, which was visible below me; and as I

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 955

neared the bottom of the descent, a shout of
triumph told me that the count had arrived. I
looked to the avenue gate, and saw the carriage
stop. The countess and her daughter were there
in the midst of the crowd. They received in
their arms first Stephanie and her husband ;
and, lastly, I saw the fine figure of the exile
~bound upon the earth, and rush into the em-
braces of his wife.

I caught no glimpse of his face ; but turning
abruptly to the inn, I made my preparations for
immediate departure. While my resolution was
unshaken, I determined to place myself out of
the reach of temptation—so I took my place in
a diligence just then passing through the village,
and night quickly fell upon me and the scene
from which I fled.

It may appear strange to my readers, but it
is, notwithstanding, true, that I am to this day
ignorant of the exile’s name. Two reasons

prevented my becoming acquainted with it—

956 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

want of inclination, and want of opportunity. I
never asked it from any one; and being out of
the way of public people and events, it never
reached me accidentally.

I have, however, made inquiries respecting
some other personages connected with this
story; and late accounts from the neighbour-
hood of the Landes have informed me of some
important changes.

Monsieur the Inspector, from his unhappy
prating:propensities, found it utterly impossible
to keep secret his connivance at the exile’s
escape. His own blabbing betrayed what his
honest associates never would have divulged ;
and in the summary punishment of the day, he
was deprived of his place, shorn of his honours,
and stripped of every thing but his culinary
knowledge; to which he now owes his support,
and devotes his whole attention. He is now,
and has been for several years, simply and un-
adornedly ‘“ La Broche, Traiteur, Restaura-
teur,” at the sign of Le Grand Gourmand, in
which the wag of a painter has hit off to the
life a likeness of the host himself, and which

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 957

hangs over a shabby little shop off one of the
Boulevards of Paris—where any of my readers
may dine, any or every day in the year, on
soup, three dishes, half a bottle of wine, and
bread at discretion—for eighteen pence, and a
penny to the waiter.

The Forest Inn is no longer in existence. In
one of those terrible conflagrations which fre-
quently desolate the pine-woods in those parts,
the little inn was burned to the ground. Poor
Batiste, its nominal master, fell a victim on this
occasion to his old habits. Sleep, which was
his greatest enjoyment in life, was also his
latest, for he was smothered in his bed, after
having resisted every effort of his wife to make
him rise from his danger. The disconsolate
widow, seeing her house destroyed, and her old
protector removed, had nothing left for it but
to abandon the site of the one and follow the
fortunes of the other,—whose helpmate and
partner she now is, under the title of Madame
La Broche, and ostensibly his bar-woman,
housekeeper, and marketmaker.

VOL. II. s

958 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

Little Jean, the postboy, lost his place, or, as
I am told he expressed it, was flung from his
saddle, soon after my acquaintance with him.
In a general movement of the great political
machine, even this poor atom was displaced.
—From the postmaster-general down to the
postillions, all were turned out, Jean among the
rest—when casting his eyes to the capital—like
all other aspirants for distinction or intrigue—
he worked his passage up to Paris on board
the back of a diligence near-wheeler; and is
now proprietor and conducteur of one of those
little cabriolets which ply between St. Germain
and the Place Louts ‘QurnzeE, and to which
people give, among other homely appellations,
that of “ les coucous.”

Geoffiroi and Cazille ply their several trades
of carrying dry goods between Bordeaux and
La Teste, and giving practical essays on popu-
lation, at the rate of a boy or a girla year. My
correspondent could not tell whether Geoffroi
was happy or miserable in his home—but it has
been remarked, by almost all who meet him on

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 259

the road, that he continually hums one unvary-
ing ditty, the concluding words of which seem
to be “ Mine own Cazille.”

NOTE.

By far the greatest curiosity of the forest of Arcachon,
and one, indeed, of the greatest any where, is the chapel
of St. Thomas Iliricus, originally built by the contri-
butions of the fishermen of those parts, and dedicated to
the Virgin, in gratitude for a miraculous favour conferred
upon their neighbourhood in the lifetime of the saint,
and somewhat about the year 1521, if the traditionary
records of the old people (the only chronicle of the La
Testians) be a sufficiently accurate voucher for the date.
The venerable Thomas was celebrated, in his time, as a
great preacher, and for having exerted his uncommon
eloquence against the heretical encroachments then creep-
ing in upon religion in France; and after sermonizing
and anathematizing for some time to little purpose—for
the impious work of enlightening the human mind gained
ground in spite of his forensic hostility—he resolved on
withdrawing from the world, before the vexatious ripen-
ing of intellect, which was then in the bud, should over-
power, in its blossoming odour, the fragrance of his own

sanctity. He, in pursuance of this sage and saintly re-
solution, turned his steps towards the west.

** The world was all before him where to choose,”

and, passing through the hamlet of La Téte de Buche,
the original appellation of La Teste, he arrived on the

260 THE EXILE OF THE EANDES,

borders of the Lake of Arcachon, where he scooped him-~
self a hut, the site of which is still marked out by the
pious visitations of many a pilgrim. Thomas was fond
of a solitary ramble, which formed, in spite of time or
tide, his daily exercise for body and mind. One evening,
while pursuing his favourite walk during the continuance
of a tempest, that would probably have driven him to
his hut, had not a secret inspiration urged him still to
keep abroad, he discovered a vessel.far out at sea, in
great distress and apparently on the eve of perishing.
Not being able to render the least possible assistance
otherwise than by his prayers, he betook himself to
his knees, and had scarcely commenced an impassioned
invocation, when the little vessel, as if it had been pos-
sessed of the powers of mortal vision, perceived him, and
instantly turned its prow towards the spot where he knelt,
and with a rush of sail that belonged not to any human
management, it cut through the mountain-billows, and
in an instant traced its frothy path from the utmost verge
of the horizon to the edge of the strand on which the
anchorite was placed. He, bewildered and fixed in ad-
miration of the miracle, lost all power of speech, for he
beheld upon the prow a bright form robed in white, and
surrounded by a radiance that he knew to be of Heaven.
The hands of this celestial being were raised above his
head, as if something was suspended in them. Its bright
wings fluttered a moment in the foam of the waves which
sparkled in the sunny tints—an instant more and ali was
a blank. The vessel had totally disappeared ; whether
it sunk in the furious element, or “‘ vanished into thin
air,” the monk by no means could divine; and all that
he heard to give him a clew for unravelling the miracle,
was the flapping of wings above him, and a strain of ex-

THE EXILE OF THE LANDES. 261

quisite melody, that seemed to die away in the upper re
gions of the heavens. Thomas arose from his posture of
devotion, and gazed with a holy wonder on the scene
around him.- The waves were in a moment still—the
wind was hushed—the sun darted from the clouds, which
were scattered across the firmament in a thousand beau-
tiful and fantastic forms of brightness—the roaring of the
surge was changed to the gentle murmur of the tide, as
it flowed in upon the sand, and seemed to sink into it, as
if in repose from its recent agitation. At the feet of the
monk lay a small image of the Virgin. He approached
it with a mixture of devotion and awe; when, to his de-
light and admiration, it sprang up into his arms, where
he folded it with a rush of overpowering sensation that
may be better imagined than described. He brought the
heaven-sent relic to his hut, where he erected a rude altar
to its honour ; but the rustic inhabitants, thinking such
a shrine unworthy the miraculous image, built him a
little chapel around the spot. The overflowing of the
lake, in one of its accustomed inundations a short time
afterwards, levelled the little building to the ground ; and
when, wonderful to tell, the pious erectors attempted to
move the little image from its shrine, which the waves
had no power to overthrow, it resisted the efforts of
dozens of men to remove it; and it was only by the
powerful prayers of Thomas that forty pair of the strongest
oxen had force sufficient to effect that object. The
image, be it known, is full twelve inches in height!
Another chapel was built, and another catastrophe was
at hand. It was utterly cast down by one of the moving
sand-hills, which spared not in its impious progress the
holy place, but the image defied its rage. It stood erect
amid the desolation, and was seen in the morning after

962 THE EXILE OF THE LANDES.

the tempest, perched on the topmost point of the mound
that covered the ruin. Once more a fitting receptacle
was prepared, and that is the present chapel, the simple
elegance of whose outward construction, and whose
richly-ornamented interior, are remarkable specimens of
good taste and gorgeousness blended together with sur-
prising harmony. The desolate wilds around—the pro-
found seclusion of its site—the deep-embowering woods—
the superstitious veneration of the simple souls who there
offer up their orisons—all the union, in fact, of natural
solemnity and religious enthusiasm, give to the place an
indescribable and irresistible charm. There is a her-
mitage close by, inhabited in the summer season by a
good and enlightened curate, who is looked on with a
veneration more than common, as the direct descendant
of the holy Thomas. But it is on the 25th of March,
when the féte of the village is held, that the traveller,
who enjoys such primitive and touching scenes, should
place himself at the porch of the chapel, to witness the
ceremony of devoting the earliest fish of the season to the
Virgin, from whom the image is believed to have been
directly sent from Heaven. They believe that it de-
scended directly from Heaven, like the Palladium of the
Trojans—or like the Liafail, the enchanted stone brought
to Ireland by the first settlers, from which the island re-
ceived the name of Innisfail.

THE END.

LONDON:
FRINTED &Y THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS,

-URBANA

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