The Rebellion in the Cevennes (Vol. 1&2). Ludwig Tieck
cast an expressive glance at the huntsman and one of still deeper meaning at the young man, and smiled as if to hint, that he at all events should withdraw from this distinguished circle, among which he himself only had any claim to remain; but the little Eveline hung on the young man's arm and drew him by her side to the table where he immediately sat down with her the first without waiting for farther bidding. "Quite right," said the Counsellor, "No ceremony if you wish to please me! here are no invited guests, we meet together as if we were on board a ship or in a wood. I must render you all this hospitality without distinction." Edmond blushing, placed himself at the head of the table by his father, the priest seated himself opposite to him, by the side of the latter sat the huntsman, who left a large space between himself and his neighbour, and then came Eveline and her playfellow as he almost appeared. "Quite patriarchal," said the priest, "those men there, my worthy sir, will not forget to publish throughout the country, your philanthropy and contempt of prejudices."
At this moment the veil of clouds in the horizon burst asunder, the sun in its descent suddenly threw a purple glow over the lowering sky, a red fire spread itself over the mountain-vineyards, tree and bush, and vinetendril sparkled in the fiery ray, beyond the woods shone brilliantly, and as the eye glanced upwards, the summits of the distant Cevennes were seen glowing in the rosy light; on the left, the waterfall rushed like blood from the steep rock, and the whole hall, the table, and the guests, all was as if bathed in blood, so that the lights just then burned darkly and the fire in the chimney emitted a blue flame. The rain had ceased, a holy silence reigned throughout all nature, not a leaf rustled, the red brook only flowed splashingly along, and the glowing waterfall murmured its melody. The old Counsellor's eyes were cast upwards as if in fervent prayer, and a tear glistened in his full eye; the fair young man laid down his knife and fork and folded his hands; the huntsman glanced timidly from under his heavy eyebrows; the priest tried to assume a sanctified look; the child playfully clapped her hands, and Edmond was lost in silent reflection.
Just as quickly as it was withdrawn, the curtain fell again over the horizon and extinguished its light, upon which the Counsellor said, "was not this like an emblem of our country and of our misfortunes? as necessity unites us all and brings us together, and as the misery that oppresses us, if I may so express myself, becomes as it were sanctified and endeared to us? all our countrymen pass through this baptism of blood, may heaven have pity on us." Edmond cast an expressive look on his father and then glanced furtively at the huntsman and the young stranger, as if to intimate, that such thoughts should not have been expressed in their presence; the old man smiled kindly on his son, but did not even try to conceal his feelings.--
"Papa," cried Eveline, "it was as if the sky wished to play at hide and seek with us, just as little Dorothea with her plump, rosy cheeks smiles upon me and then, whisk! creeps under the cloth again."
"It was like a bleeding world crying for succour," exclaimed the fair-haired young man. Edmond cast a sidelong glance at him, and said, "It is perhaps the extinction of the nefarious revolt!"
"May be so," replied the youth, and raised his blue, child-like eyes to Edmond, "but I think that everything rests in the hands of the Supreme Being."
"Most assuredly," said Edmond sharply, "and the evil would have ceased long since if so much disaffection, secret abettance, and malicious joy at the misfortunes of the king had not reigned among the common people."
"Every reasonable person must own however," said the young man with a melancholy smile, "that the evil did not originate with the people; they were quiet, and although others may suffer, their miseries are beyond expression."
The priest left off eating with astonishment, that the little unseemly man should have the last word with the master of the house opposite to him; he rolled his eyes up and down as if seeking for some astounding words of reproof; the little girl pressed the hands of her new friend for engaging in dispute with Edmond, and the latter as his father already began to testify his uneasiness at his son's violence, turned away with an expression of profound contempt, saying, "I know not with whom I speak, but I think I have some knowledge of you; are you not the son of the late Huguenot sexton of Besere close by?"
"No, gracious sir," answered the young man perfectly unembarrassed, "I have not the honour of being known to you; I am now come to this neighbourhood for the first time, to make some purchases, my name is Montan, or simply William, as I am called by the neighbours and by my father, who is owner of the mill in the deep valley beyond Saumière."
"Therefore a praiseworthy miller's lad!" said the priest. "It was not sung to you in your cradle that you should ever sit at table in such company as this." "No, indeed," said the miller with emotion; "when I stood before the house, I thought not to find a reception as from the venerable patriarchs we read of in the Holy Scriptures, I did not expect to be introduced to a nobleman, who, to my mind and imagination, presents the most sublime picture of Abraham and Jacob." He wiped his eyes, and as they were about to rise from table, he lifted his glass, and said, "pray allow me first, honoured sirs, to empty this glass in token of my most heartfelt gratitude, and to the unalloyed happiness of our respected host, and the endless prosperity of his noble house." He drank, and the old Lord bowed not without emotion, while Edmond and the priest looked at each other long and enquiringly. The huntsman scraped and smiled, and the priest in his astonishment forgot to drink.
They rose from table, and Eveline seated herself again by the side of her favorite in a corner of the room, and said to him, "That is the right way, he is too haughty if one allows him to go on."
Her father approached them, "my child, it is now quite time for you to retire to bed." "Indeed papa," answered she kissing his hand, "I should like to remain longer here, but there must be order, as you always say; I am obedient and will be your comfort, shall I not? it would indeed be very wicked, and I should vex you, if I turned a prophet like so many other children in this country." "God bless you, my love," said the old man resting his hand upon her head; "go to bed, and you, my friend, sit down here and rest yourself some time longer," said he, pressing the young miller's hand; when Eveline perceived her father's kindness towards him, she quickly returned, and throwing herself on the neck of the young man, kissed him repeatedly, then drawing back a little, she curtsied gracefully, and in a lady-like manner, and waving her hand, said: "Au revoir," and followed the domestic who consigned her to her maid.
"As you are from Saumière," said the priest, turning to the miller, "You are surely acquainted with the hermit, who is now the leader of a troop against the Camisards?" "Oh, I know him very well," replied the youth, "his cell is in a rocky valley, which is separated from our mill only by a stony fence; we often visited him on holidays, when the valley was passable on our side; he is a tall, athletic man, with a grizly beard and large, grey eyes; he seemed peaceable and quiet until the war made him a soldier again. Unheard of cruelties are asserted to have been committed by him; he is said not to know what compassion is, and must take pleasure in murder; but now his trade is over." "Is he dead?" enquired the Counsellor. "No, not exactly that," continued the young man, "but I heard a report on the Vidourla, that he was totally defeated yesterday by Cavalier, and that, if he consults his own advantage, he will creep into a cell, for the common people will not surely trust to him again, when they perceive that he does not understand his business."
"He has been a captain, however," said the huntsman.
"The combat against the rebels," said the priest, "is a difficult affair, for that courage and the ordinary discipline of a soldier do not suffice; our Marshal Montrevel would perhaps prefer fighting against Eugene and Marlborough than with these rag-o-muffins."
More wood was now piled on the fire. The father sat down, while Edmond paced up and down the hall in visible inquietude, the priest drew his chair towards the Counsellor, and said: "You are suffering from the gout in your left foot, my lord."
"Why do you conclude so?" asked the old gentleman, "the leg does not appear to me swoln, although you have guessed rightly."
"The swelling," continued the priest, "is certainly almost imperceptible; but you often step lighter and more gently with this foot, probably without being conscious of it, perhaps this joint is a little contracted in proportion to the right, and therefore has not the strength of the latter."
"That is very