FLOWER-O'-THE-CORN.

Evening Star, Issue 11694, 27 September 1902, Page 8

FLOWER-O'-THE-CORN.

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'The 'Lilac Sonbonnrt,' etc.,* etc ' * wid: a smile he' went out, once more l^im^^gs^ 'Steadily from under her sceptre indeed departed : ''^VW :, aß'»h ? er power utterly gone? for the young man never much'as glanced at her But those who ; . far tbo career of this woman know that .'■■ the daughters are wiser in their Inhere;-^raaf^ito-flseno direct attack this gtime. ;:'A;l6ng,;;sad silence deepened and brooding oyer them both. thought the time was broke" speaking in a voice sadness mingled with the com||pjsK>nj fate. not ask you to forgive me," she ' imirmured.,. u That I cannot hope for. I "only ask you to believe that if there was it was not of my'own wilL I (fid < all for the best I was sworn to silence. ' To speak the whole truth would Jfye rained him " (she pointed without to vraere in an anteroom the steady murmur „.rßfja voice told that the Marshal was dictating bis despatch). " He made me promise { hover-to reveal our marriage—to—keep it my owu father. For his sake 1 have done so, and only to-night has he ' vtemoved the oath from me by proclaiming r the truth himielf." , \ Yvette bad risen and now stood beside £he young Camisard leader; the light of lamp shining down upon her shapely bjead. _ He moved a little apart and with"row his sleeve from her touch. . ' A quick little sob, almost inaudible, rose her throat '"lknow—l know 1" she said in alow vonce, more to herself than to him, " I do noo, deserve anything else. One is not frees to love where one would. Life is very harw for a woman. Jean, I do not ask you *o Wjrgi-re me—but be kind to me—for—my heart is broken—broken!" Sh&t breathed the final word upon the air with S; wonderful tenderness. -' there came the sob, again the falling in great drops this time, bot'softriy flowing without sound or ostentation, fog if the fountains of the inner v deep wen* unsealed. But the heart of the -young mail was not so easily moved this t5m u ,? your Yvettes can only do such things twice at most—that is, and succeed. She was compelled therefore to try another tack. She- bit her lip with anger, and in her heart a vow that Jean Cavalier should for this shame that he had put* upon* her. Then she smiled. For Yvette reflected in a per--fectly Spartan manner tJr aa t a disgrace that is only witnessed by «s ne , only known to 'jmj* no disgrace atf aiL The onlv God feared was Bumfer, ,nth her thousand And nofc in the Marshal she defence from every slanderous y«e and jealous ir/al. It was all finished, te B^ltta and stratagems, its SSW*™!. 0 ™ n «&„and wayward adventur«ffl&:. bad been far from uninSfce had ruled people, by ruling -fte rolen: 4od the final proof of her * n «i young man standing in the of the* ,Marquis de Montrevel—ln -HOT 11 hußba3 td's chamber—with the JoSSffis|Py"~' a 3 'Vithout and the whole *Mwagh thelong winter's ffiSStP-if a ?y t w *?»n had a right to -sjllgwja. of herfteif it is Yvette de «e Montrevel, sometime of the aaberge of the &tsoti unetrien, ni the Camisard village of like i \flish of lightning the anger face. Ztjj&S&r,* She said, "you-may thank your brought you here. You have prone- to'tfie house of a man who knows mgktfa deal honestly. You are offered will never be given to you Iftgajn, J?rom me yon shall have no plead|i"uig~ud humbling. If you have anything |iagainit>me, go with your complaint to my gbnjhaijd; He is without there. What I p33|bdbbe, I have done ! He will answer nothing against you," said Jean pljwaKer,"more gently than can be believed. &f?*i^™ n ? against any, save only myself ! a <s&lttinay be set to the small credit account FjKf;ssrette Foy (to conserve the name by is best remembered) that at thi3 ;f point she gave vent to a slight and genuine ' p;,*' T am sorry I" she murmured, and for iTOeeshe was not acting a part or thinking r of an effect By a sudden flash of intui- ' tion she seemed to see the young man's career as it might have been, and as she ;vhad 'made it But in another moment the , impulse had passed, and Yvette Foy once ;more_ thought only of herself and her f EJbjteings. She controlled herself instantly, pairing so foolish a thing as compassion aside. She must do her best to bring the .matter to a conclusion. / "Forgive me, do not waste time about thaV'she said. '•* Agree l quickly with the Marshal. He is not a' hard man. You shall go back to the folk of the mountains with a message of peace. You and I shall end the There shall be no more brother's blood shed by brothers. I pledge myself that you shall see the King himself, and that he will ratify the word which ttyhusband speaks." "I cannot betray those who have trusted in me," said Cavalier. " I will go back as I came. I will die as a soldier of the Lord, in the trenches, if indeed I am no more worthy to lead the people in the dav of battle. ;5 e J " Ah, do so I s answered the girl, with a ■light curve of the lip. Cavalier strode to the door without deigning any answer. He passed the open alcove in which the Marshal was still dictating to his secretary, De Montrevel did not pause or look up. But as Cavalier opened the door—a common countryman's kitchen door opening outward in two leaves—his eye caught a descending flash of steeL He found two bayonets at his breast and two more crossed before him to bar his way. He stood a moment with the door in his hand. **Qo on! 3 said a voice behind him. •'Why do you not go as you said, and tell the people of La Cavalerie that you have •scaped out of the mouth of the lion !" Cavalier turned about, and saw Yvette •tanding in the passage. The light of the lamp which she held in her right hand streamed down upon her blue-black hair 'and dark beautiful face. '■ • Finding his way thus barred by the ' soldiers of the King the young man turned, End-going straight back into the chamber where the conference had begun he waited. Yvette, still smiling, slowly returned and set the lamp down in its place. Trium/rphant as she was, Yvette could not escape shiver of anxiety as she turned -|tojtface Jean Cavalier. For once she felt ■ -3swself the weaker. Yet there was nothing '{militant or even reproachful about the the young peasant soldier. £'*§£§ had'rather the air of a man who wjknew; his own responsibility and accepted He stood by the firewhich logs 6T olive wood were ybjmjing with a slow equable flame. paused at the door, as if even |*t?tiiatjnommt she meditated fliaht. So

irresist-. light bird poising itself ;tc> his alcove paOsM;a moment* in his dictation to look at heri well pleased. Yyette stood looking at Jean Cavalier a moment, as if him iu the balances of her mind.; The she went in and shut the door afterher. Cavalier also watched her closely, but not as he bad done in" the house-place of the Bon Chretien/ He beckoned her to come nearer. "I would speak with you a moment," he you again. You have gone by your choice but of my world. I am a young man and (I tell you plainly) I, never loved woman before.. I never thought to love any woman—till I saw you. I had consecrated myself to God and his service I bad (as I thought) brought the flesh into subjection. I had vowed and felt myself to pay—until the day I saw you." He did not take his eyes from the girl's face. He spoke not in angry denunciation, but with a certain resigned sadness, almost sweet in its intonation. Yvette did not answer iu words, but she did grow a shade paler as he proceeded. , "It is nothing to you—a man's love," he said gently. " I might havo known it I ought to have known it Bat that which was but the passing of an hour to you, my lady, was life, death, and all the hereafter to me! " Well, so be it, : ' he went on. " My folly I would not see; in your lightheartedness you would not tell me. I have kissed your lips—there is no shame in speaking of that to you, I shall tell it to none other." Yvette smiled. " I have told the only man who had a right to know," she said. The young man's face fell a little, "I would rather have kept that as a secret between us two—our first and last," he said. " You might have left me that!" She smiled again. " I did not mean my husband," she said. " Who then V cried the younsr man. "My father!" " And now, :: he went on, after a pause, " having tasted of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil that is within the garden, I must go outside where the angel awaits me with the flaming sword that turns every way. I go back to La Cavalerie ; I will declare in the full assembly of the Brethren of the Way what my advice is. Having partaken of the feast I will not be slack in paying the reckoning. In a week you shall hear from me. In a month I shall be able to tell you what proportion of our young men my influence can enlist under the banner of the King of France to fight his battles:" Yvette Foy went up to him and took his hand. With a swift impulsive movement she lifted it to her lips. "You are a thousand times better than I," she said. " Give God thanks for your escape from me!" The young man trembled from head to foot He reached out his arms towards her, restrained himself by a violent effort, and let bis bands fall by his 3ide. He opened the door of the chamber in which their interview had passed and went out almost blindly, stumbling on the threshold as he went. Yvette followed him a little later. Her husband looked up quickly. She nodded. I' He has promised !" she-said, in a low voice. De Montrevel whispered to the officer -in attendance. He spoke a quick order through the little window at his elbow to a comrade without The door was opened, and Jean Cavalier's interview was over. This time no bayonets were crossed before his breast. Muskets clanged on the pavement as the guard turned out Swords flashed to the salute, and Jean Cavalier, the baker's boy of Geneva, took his way in the darkness back to the little hill fortress of La Cavalerie. This time, however, he adventured forth without companion. CHAPTER XXXII. While Yvette Foy was playing for the faith and honor of the young chief of the Camisards within the entrenched village of La Cavalerie, on the opposite heights of the Causse Noir (among whose black rocks was perched the turreted houses of Saint Veran), the three other principals of our history continued to lead a quiet existence. The forces of the King were indeed all round them, but, as was also the case with their siege of La Cavalerie, they contented themselves with establishing a general blockade. They had indeed under various generals experienced too many reverses at the hands of the daring peasantry to venture any more open attacks upon their strongholds. In addition to this their generalissimo, as we know, had strong hopes of another solution of the difficulty, and was directing all his energies towards that So in the meantime Saint Yeran was left alone. Within the wide house of the old couple who had first entertained Flower-o'-the-Corn as an angel unawares, these three abode with vast content They had all rolled far athwart the world, and loved, more than the untroubled calm of featureless existence, those days of peace and summer skies that sometimes surprise us in the midst of the grimmest winter weather. All three of them had that rare gift of detachment which often enables a man and more rarely a woman to enjoy the sunny to-day, letting the morrow take care of the things of itself., Of course, even in Saint Yeran, Maurice Eaith was very far indeed from bein<* idle. With the assistance of Billy Marshall he organised the fighting forces of the village, erecting rough but stroDg forts among the scattered boulders, digging trenches, and extending the defensible area on which the cattle and sheep of the villagers must subsist in time of closer siege. As usual, Mr Patrick Wellwood preached and prayed with the utmost acceptance. Never bad such words of fire been heard in Saint Veran. And that curious congregation of militant Christians, who came to morning and evening worship with swords by their sides and gum in their hands, listened with open ears (sometimes mouths also) to the brief trenchant appeals, ringing like the trumpet blasts which had carried Ardmillan's regiment into the battle, its chaplain charging first in the van after Sir Archibald himself. And Flower-o : -the-Cotu ? Naturally she was more beautiful than ever. Something sweet, innocent, and sage disengaged itself like a perfume from her every look and action. She and Maurice were by no means demonstrative lovers, and she sat most often beside the old man, when he was not engaged in his ministrations among the poorer houses of Saint Yeran. It does not appear that at first they thought much of escape, at least no reference to this appears in the - records. Maurice hid fulfilled his commissiDn in carrying out the landing of stores and sending back a despatch, so he felt himself at liberty further orders where he was—orders which in present circumstances would have some difficulty in reaching him. Patrick Wellwood was happy wherever there was a soul to be saved, or a home 'into which to bring the gospel of a loving presence and the sympathy of a Christian gentleman. As for Frances—well, it was the first days of a new thing for her. She had found him whom ber soul loved—and beyond that what is there more for any woman ? Much more, verily! But the very young and the very much in love do not think so. * Only Filly Marshall and his wife Bet mourned and longed for the fleshpotsof Keltonhill J?air. The gipsy saw the great

ranges or ragged taus scattered amon the broom and whins, the larger tents for tbe drinkiug booths, the earthen "b-an-to's," the gaily caparisoned "cuddies" of the wandering tinkler, or the more staid saddle bags of the packman's shelties. He saw, he spake, and his soul longed j after them. Plana of escape, floated indefinitely before his eves, growing more and more impossible to lie put behind him. Sinco the cutting of the cable there had been no direct communication between the Caoiisards. of the Causse Noer and those of tbe.larger plateau of the L*rzac " All well" signals, previously agreed upon, had been exchanged iudeed, by means of blankets waved by day and'bontires lit by night. But these told little save that the Brethren of the Way still held tbeir own on one causse and tbe other. But it was obvious that all this could not last. Some d»y the King's nther wara on the eastern and south-eastern frontiers would end. Tbe re eased armies would be poured over the Cevcnnes from all sides, the brave peastUKs exterminated or driven t'rorn thu lands which had been then- forefathers before ever a Capet had sat upon the throue of Frauce. In so far Yvette Foy Was right. It was now or never with the militant protestant peasantry of France —so far, that is, as' surrender was concerned. They would never get they could never expect to be offered such terms again, His Majesty was embroiled with half the powers of Europe, and his representative on the Cevenucs was a rnau of large nature and kindly heart, who knew that his own time was short, and desired to fin'sh with a coup. (To be continued.)