# The Rebellion in the Cevennes/Volume 1/Chapter VIII

In Tieck's German text, Part II (Zweiter Abschnitt) begins here.
CHAPTER VIII.
The mountains and the country around were by this time filled with new tidings that contained representations of the most horrible cruelties, said to have been practised by the Camisards. Even their best friends and such as willingly lent them their aid, became displeased, and many of the rebels themselves ventured not to extenuate the barbarity, which these had permitted themselves to exercise against catholic priests, landholders, nay even towards secret protestants. It appeared as if the weakest party desired, in defying despair to outdo the harshness of their foes; but this alienated many hearts from them and withheld the help that otherwise would have been openly lent to them.
​A serene summer morning shed its light over the mountains, when Edmond with hasty steps took his way towards the secret wilds, where there was neither track nor footpath, and which was only known to him from representation. He felt as if his wonderful gift of inward sight was conducting him in the direct way, for he discovered the most secret directing signs by which the rebels alone could find a clue to the hiding—places, without straying among the windings of the rocks, or being stopped by the appearance of unexpected precipices. He left the fortress of St. Hyppolite on one side and came in a short time after having climbed steep mountains, into another rocky district, to which only small stony paths led, and which far around was torn asunder by spacious crevices and caverns. Here did the Camisards keep their severely wounded that had been able to escape from the fight; if this was impossible, they shot them themselves, in order to deliver them from the ​cruel ingenuity of the executioner. In these caves, Roland also concealed his provision of arms and ammunition, if he should have a superfluity of them, and also a supply of food and wine, likewise medicines, and that which was necessary for the care of the sick. Government had already offered a large reward for the discovery of this important place of refuge, but until now in vain, For only the most trustworthy among the rebels were acquainted with this district, who naturally would not betray it and they took care, that only those among the country-people, whose integrity could be depended upon, should be admitted. As Edmond went along the narrow way which lay on the right under a steep mountain, whilst on the left, at the distance of a few paces, yawned a giddy abyss; he was just reflecting how easily and safely this pass might be defended, when he suddenly heard a large figure with a hairy face and wild, savage expression, call out, requesting to speak ​with him. Edmond was going to explain to him for what purpose he had come there, when the hairy figure without replying took up his gun and was in the act of firing at him, a cracked voice from behind a projection of the rock, cried out: "For God’s sake stop, brother Mazel!" at the same moment two naked brown arms fell on the breast of the armed man and dashed the gun on the ground. "He is no spy, he cannot be such!" exclaimed the half-naked man, "it is the young Lord of Beauvais."
As Edmond looked round he saw Eustace, the charcoal-burner whom he knew very well, standing before him.
"How came you to this secret place?" said the invalid, who was taken care of here.
Edmond now saw several strange faces which gathered round to examine him with looks of curiosity. The young man experienced a singular sensation on beholding these ragged, wretched looking figures, ​and on finding himself compelled to tell them wherefore he was come, and that he intended to live among them as a brother, and to fight for their abused rights. Eustace clapped his hands in the greatest amazement, and cried out: "I should have sooner expected the day of judgment! you cannot conceive how haughty and indignant this noble gentleman, was, when I once attempted to speak, and jest with his little lady sister! Yes, Abraham, that is a sign from God, to strengthen us in our good cause. If such a gentleman to whom nothing is wanting, to whom God has plentifully given whatever human wealth can procure, brought up and learned in their religion, if he should come over to us, and be willing to undergo the severity of the weather, storms, hunger, nakedness, and for the sake of God, perhaps, a disgraceful death: what are we then to do, whom they have plundered, ill used, whose children they have slaughtered, whose priests they have murdered; indeed these ​are signs which precede judgment?" In the same moment he began to scream out a psalm; but Mazel said: "Cease now, good brother, for we do not at all know yet, if brother Roland will accept him, he must first be brought before him; we have lately been several times too much deceived and the thing may be only a snare this time also, but Roland and Cavalier know directly what they are about, no one can deceive these."
Edmond looked at him with the utmost contempt and exclaimed: "Conduct me to the wood, to Lord Roland!"—
"Brother Roland, if you please," replied the stout Mazel, "among us there are no Lords; God is our Lord.—Stephen! Favart!" Cried he, in a commanding tone, and out of the cliffs sprang forward a fair-haired young man, and behind him stole forth another, whom Edmond immediately recognised for the old huntsman that he had met about twelve days before at his father’s house. "Conduct the young ​man to brother Roland," said Mazel to both of them, and Edmond accompanied them in silence, still deeper into the solitude of the mountains. Favart glanced, sideways at the new comrade, while they walked on together, at length he said: "Lately, but for that young lad, things would have turned out badly enough."
"Who was he?" asked Edmond.
"I do not know," replied the huntsman, "I should like very much to know who he is; he knew me, although I did not know him. I had abandoned the brethren for sixteen months, now I am again returned to them, principally because the young lad said in my ear that I was an apostate and a traitor to God; now, I know too, how the Lord of Basville, the the Intendant thinks, and all the other godless men. They are blood-thirsty men."
Young Stephen drew out a little flute and blew upon it a spiritual song, which sounded pleasingly far through the mountains. "Leave off that godless blowing," ​said Favart. " Why godless?" asked Edmond. "It is only a worldly little pipe," said the squinting huntsman, "all these things proceed from the wicked enemy, to ensnare our souls and hearts through sensual pleasure; in simplicity we should think on the Lord and our lips alone should laud and praise him, but not artificially and seducingly, for it is not seemly. to make jubelee in our sorrow."
"You are too severe," said Stephen, "the birds in the woods praise the Lord and artificially too, in their way."
"They have no reason, no soul," said Favart, "they are poor beasts, even if it were the nightingale herself; it is still no praise to the Lord, they do but call their mates, or brood in their nests, their godiness is all a lie."
"As yon will," said Stephen, at the same time replacing his flute. They came to a number of trees hewn down, and placed so as to form a sort of fence, from out of which a voice exclaimed: "Who ​goes there?" "Zion!" replied the two guides; and some large birch-trees were pushed backwards, and made way on the narrow path. They passed through. "Where is Roland?" demanded they of the sentinels. "Up there," replied the latter, "under the great Apostle chesnut tree."
"We shall soon be there," said Stephen. They already heard a noise in the distance, talking, singing, and also clattering of iron; and now, when they had reached the summit of the wooded mountain plain, Edmond perceived many men in various groups, all brown and burnt by the sun, the greatest part of them in ragged doublets; some appeared to be praying, a few were reading, others were reposing on the grass, several were whetting their jagged swords or cleaning their guns, others were mending their vestments; many sang psalms. A tall wi1d-looking man advanced towards them, he walked up and down agitatedly with his hands behind his back, huge whiskers ​descended on either side of his face, his hair was tightly drawn up to the top of his head; "Good day brethren," cried he, in a discordant voice, which Edmond immediately recognised for the same he had heard in the distance on the eventful night. "The hero Catinat!" exclaimed Favart, shaking the gigantic man heartily by the hand, "how fares it with you?" "I am accused brother," said the former, "and Roland will hold no intercourse with me until all his officers, Cavalier and the rest, have spoken respecting me."
"Where is Roland?" enquired Edmond, hastily. "It is he yonder, who sits with his bared neck under the chesnut tree," said Catinat.
Edmond perceived a man of slight figure and middle age, leaning against the trunk of the tree, who was looking quietly on the ground and smoking a short clay tobacco pipe; he had taken off a red silk neckerchief which lay by his side, and had loosened his waistcoat, so that his whole breast was ​laid bare, his head was uncovered, his face was only shaded by large whiskers. He calmly raised his light brown eyes, as the three presented themselves before him, and Stephen explained in a few words Edmond’s request. "Indeed!" said Roland, still continuing to smoke and quickly turning his searching glance from Edmond; "have a little patience, until I give you my answer, we do nothing without higher counsel, and I have not been thus blessed. Are any of our prophets here?" asked he in a loud voice, looking round the circle.
"No, brother Roland," resounded from all sides; "Be patient, some of them will shortly be here, for I do not know you, but nothing can be concealed from them."
Edmond felt hurt, his heart was ready to overflow; he related in a few words his wonderful transformation and how the spirit had led him into the mountains; "Yes, I myself, unworthy as I may be," concluded he, with deep emotion, his narration, "I have been blessed with this wonderful gift of fore-knowledge."
​"Indeed!" said Roland in a drawling tone, while he rather winked than looked at the youth with his half closed eyes, in which was reflected either his contempt, or perhaps his envy, the latter was what Edmond conceived it to indicate. He raised his foot, and knocked the ashes out of the top of his tobacco pipe; "Go and walk up and down for a short time, I have some reflections to make; as soon as one of our prophets arrives, you shall obtain your answer."
Edmond turned away much annoyed, and cast his eyes over the interminable mountains; to the immense chain of the Cevennes are joined the blue summits of the Pyrenees, and on the other side were to be seen craggy cliffs and masses of rocks, which give so striking a feature to the right bank of the Rhone. What was Edmond's surprise, when among the fraternity he recognized two noblemen, whom he had formerly met many times at Nismes, and who had sunk into universal contempt on account of their frivolity and bad conduct. ​Cesar and Mark Anthony were merely what is usually termed in ordinary life boon companions; they had been finally compelled, in consequence of their debts to make their escape, and had, apparently, from absolute necessity alone, sought the society of these religious mountaineers. However much they tried to imitate the looks and demeanour of the rest, there still lay concealed even in the very manner that they greeted Edmond, something of that reckless insolence and licentious freedom, which all well-principled young men had excluded from their society many years before.
When Edmond had taken a survey of the surrounding country and of his future companions, Roland again called out in a loud voice, as he stood up:
"Is no prophet yet arrived?" "Yes," said Favart, "here is brother Duplant." At the same moment a pale, haggard little man stepped up, who trembled in every joint as from cold and whose prominent eyes added to his appearance of ​illness. "What do you wish brother?" asked he of the leader in an almost whining tone.
"Come forward brother," said Roland in a full, sonorons voice; "here is a new brother, who presents, himself to us from out of the valley, a rich distinguished man and a catholic; what does the spirit say to you about it?"
Duplant opened his light-blue eyes still wider, gazed on Edmond with a feeble, death-like look, then gathered himself up, shook his head violently, fell down, and while his breast and the lower part of his body heaved convulsively, a deep, and to him, unusual voice proceeded from him, resounding loudly: I tell thee brother, this is a choice instrument, he will serve the Lord faithfully; his father in his heart is in our mountains, rejoice all that he is come among us, Amen!"
Roland immediately embraced the youth, then extended his hand to him; "In the name of God then!" said he solemnly, ​"My vocation must be true," answered Edmond, "for you have given a reception such as might well have frightened back an ordinary enthusiast."
"We cannot do otherwise brother," said Roland, "we are too often put to the test by spies in various forms; therefore, the Lord, decides among us, He, who cannot be deceived."
"It is good for me to be among you and to look upon the faces of all these honoured men; but where is Cavalier, the hero, whose name resounds throughout the whole country? my soul burns to know him and to fold him in my arms."
"Yonder he comes with his troop in wonderful array."
A multitude of Camisards, clad in pillaged uniforms, marched up the mountain shouting with joy, at their head rode their commander, mounted on a little horse, one feather in his large hat, a richly embroidered uniform hung wide and loosely on his little thin body. He sprang ​from his horse, and while Edmond was making his way up to him, impressed with the almost ludicrous appearance of the unbecoming attire, the so justly renowned Cavalier advanced towards him, and Edmond, in terror and in deep confusion, stepped back, for the young hero was no other than that miller-lad, whom he had a short time before in his father’s house treated with so much contempt, nay even with cutting bitterness.