# The Rebellion in the Cevennes/Volume 2/Chapter IX

CHAPTER IX.
In the mean while Martin's wound, through the watchful care of his doctor, had astonishingly improved. Eveline had soon become familiarised with him, and the young man seemed even more than the father to doat on her. He exerted himself with humble devotedness to perform every little service, and was only happy when he was able to win a smile from the Lord of Beauvais. When the father now returned from the fields with his daughter, the latter said to him: "Is it not true, papa, that when I am grown up, I too shall be obliged to marry."
"Probably," answered the Lord of Beauvais, "Well then," continued she, "give me the young handsome Martin for a husband." "Does he then please thee so very much?" asked the father.
​"Not merely on that account," said Eveline, "but because I should like to make a good marriage, and such, as I have heard, one does not frequently meet with. But with our Martin I should be perfectly happy, and he behaves himself already quite as if he were your son. And I, when I say to him, Martin! sit thee down here by me! Get up again! Fetch that flower there for me! Now tell me something! or, Go away, I should now like to be alone awhile! thus he does everything so exactly at a signal, as I have never before seen. Neither Martha nor Joseph, and least of all the old obstinate Frantz, that was eternally scolding, would thus have obeyed me at a word; with such a smart, well-dressed, sensible husband, the thing might turn out worse, and therefore I will choose Martin, if you will allow me." "But he is only a servant." said the Counsellor. "You have said yourself," prattled the child, "that there was something in his appearance more than ordinary. He is certainly ​the son of respectable people; through the rebellion we too have fallen into misery, and it may be worse with us yet, one must therefore look about by times for help."
"And if he will not have you?"
"I have already asked him this morning, then he laughed out quite loud, what I had never seen him do before, but afterwards he became quite grave again, sighed, and kissed me on the forehead. That I think is quite answer enough."
In the little garden under the trellaced bower, they found Godfred and the tall Dubois sitting at the oaken table; the wife was busy in the kitchen. They sat down by them both; the musician was at that moment in the midst of a lively performance. "Do you hear, gossip," cried he, "the sound when I press and keep it down, do you know what that means?"
"Yes," said Godfrey, "it is pretty enough." "Well, attend," said Dubois, "how I now pass over and strike the quaver, which afterwards quivers in the ​deep tones, and how in the mean while my hand works here in the bass. You now understand this many-voiced composition? Listen! see, that is what I call fundamental composition."
"Yes, it is pretty," said Godfred—"he can now move all his paws."
"Do not think of your stupid dog," exclaimed Dubois, "you will not often be so fortunate as to hear a sonata of Lulli. Collect your thoughts well together. Hist! now we are passing over suddenly to the flats? St! do you hear? Ah! the passage is exquisite."
"He must eat a rice mess this evening," said Godfred.
"Can you endure music, Peter Florval?" cried the musician, eagerly addressing the State Counsellor; "Many nerves are unable to support it. Now we are coming to the conclusion. Forte! forte.! bound! continue! what do you think? Ah, now comes the most difficult passage. That is a composition that requires fingering and skill. ​It f1ies right and left. Now I play over with my right hand in the bass, now the left jumps over into the treble. See, now I work away crossing hands; now with all ten fingers! and again! and again ! I need indeed take my elbows to help. Over, over! dispatch! Ah, it is admirably written. Do you not think so, gossip?"
"At first though he must only be allowed to run with caution," said Godfred.
"Still those doggish vagaries?" said Dubois, sullenly, "banish, I pray, those four-legged thoughts from your mind, and for once live entirely for art."
"I must afterwards though cut the divining-rod," said Godfred in a loud voice to himself.
"Stop!" cried the long musician, as he jumped up, "you here remind me of a thought, I have wished for some time to impart to you. Do you know what to do with such things?"
"So, so," said Godfred, "I discovered my well for myself by means of it, and thus served several neighbours."
​"And treasures!" cried Dubois.
"Water," said the surgeon, "is sufficiently precious; I have never attempted anything else."
"You know, perhaps," continued the gossip; "It is not yet ten years ago, since Jacob Aymar, from, Dauphiné, discovered by means of his divining-rod, a murder that had been committed long before. The story created the greatest sensation in Paris and at Lyons at the time. I was then in Paris with my brother, the universally celebrated great doctor, and saw myself the simple peasant, who could perform such miraculous deeds. My brother, who is a very speculating philosopher, repaired hither at this extraordinary discovery, and employed all sorts of remarkable essays, so-called experiments in the presence of persons of distinction, and they succeeded admirably. But the rod must be out from a hazel branch at midnight, at the full moon, and without uttering a word at the time."
"That is superstition," said Godfred, ​"any rod can answer the purpose, if the hand possesses the gift."
"What do you know," exclaimed the former, hastily, "about Philosophia Occulta? you are always on the side of the sceptics, in everything. Do you think that Moses’ staff was anything else than such a divining-rod? It must discover money just as easily as water; indeed, it must guess the thoughts, and thereby ward off future crimes. Every city, every village under a reasonable government should have its priviledged rod-walker."
"Impiety," said Godfred, "sufficient calamity happens already without this superstition. The silly hazel-rod should be applied to the backs of all such fellows."
The musician made a wry face and would have answered angrily, when Eveline uttered a loud joyous "Ah!" an old peasant passed by, followed by a large dog. The Lord of Beauvais had risen, Eveline blushed, and at a sign from her father remained behind. The old peasant cast a searching ​glance into the bower, but the Counsellor looked a negative, without those present being able to observe it, and the peasant proceeded on his way without forming an acquaintance with the company. But not so the great dog, that no sooner had he snuffed the air, than he instantly leaped over the palings of the garden, and howling and whining with joy, jumped in a hundred playful gambols round the Counsellor and his daughter, and then lay down, placed his two paws on their persons and recommenced his frolics anew. It was in vain that Eveline cried out, "Away, away! what does this nasty strange dog want here?" she wished to pretend to be angry, but the absurd antics of the well-known Hector, forced her to burst into a loud laugh.
"Peter Florval," said.Dubois, "you must be known to the dog."
"Not that I know of," replied the Counsellor, somewhat embarrassed; "he must have come from some farm in my former neighbourhood."
​"It may be so," answered the musician, "but the peasant though ought to have come in here; what frightened him away from us? surely we are not such great folks."
Hector, that now heard old Frantz whistle from a distance, stood irresolute on the alert, looked inquiringly at the Counsellor, and then seemed to wait for Franz, and danced round Eveline again; at length, however, a second loud whistle called him away. The Counsellor said, "I must go and see whether the old man is known to me, come with me daughter." They both left the garden. "One easily becomes over cautious," observed he, after having heartily welcomed his faithful servant; "Had you only known for what we pass here, it had been better to have come in at once. But you have not yet spoken with Mr. Vila?" "It has been impossible for me to visit him yet," said Frantz, "for my journey detained me too long: an accident brings me to this village, where, indeed, I did not suppose you to be, the royalists, ​who in large bands keep the mountains in a state of siege, obliged me to turn away from the high road. But now, my dear master, no one can pass over the frontiers, the watches and precautions have been redoubled; every one in the country is already suspected, how much more so should he desire to quit it, even the passports from government are no longer respected."
It was agreed upon, that Franz should go to St. Hippolite to Vila, and return after some time with news, but never, as had been determined at an earlier period between the friends, to bring letter, or papers. When the Counsellor returned to his dwelling with his child, the latter said, "I should never in my life have thought Hector so stupid; he did not pay the slightest attention, I might have made signs to him as long as I liked, and yet he can hunt and perform other feats of skill, which I should never have been able to learn; but whenever indeed I have wished to tell him about the slightest fun, or when my ​brother was gone out and that he would soon return, he has never understood me. If it is only not the case with us human beings also. Perhaps we run thus along just like little dogs by the side of angels, who insinuate much to us, yet whose language and real meaning we can never comprehend."
"At least," said the father, "man should not dive too deeply into that, nor with daring enthusiasm desire to confine to himself that which is denied him by his Creator. But you cannot, however, understand that yet, my little girl."
"It must be glorious," answered the little one, "to understand all the thoughts which are permitted to us by God. All that he does grant to us by degrees, if we are pious and kind! Whatl have always with delight seen you do, when for whole hours you used to sit at your great books, of which I did not understand a single word, and you so often lifted up your eyes joyfully, and continued to reflect; you cannot think how well it looks, and ​what a beautiful sight it is to behold a sensible man engaged in deep meditation."
They had returned to their friendly home, and Martin with the others were waiting for them. "It is really abominable," began dame Barbara, "that the Camelsarts have become so impious, that this year no processions can go to the village, which lies only six leagues from hence. One may pass over the mountain in three hours, and I have never before spent a year in the neglect of edifying things."
"There is no church festival then now a-days?" enquired Dubois. "Well no wonder; nay, even the great annual markets have been abolished."
"The turkish great sultan and the heathenish Marrelburgh must have negociated an alliance with the rebels, that we completely fall into miserere, for one cannot know what the political conjunctive may produce to us in this year: All indicatives, said our pastor only yesterday, ​promise no particular property, and we may indeed be stuck fast in the mud by the new year."
"Pray, spare us Gossip" said Dubois smiling, "the learned words, in which indeed you have ever contrary wind, and you do not rightly understand the tacking about (Laviren)."
"By expressing myself thus," rejoined Barbara impatiently, "do I then in any way squander your capital interest? I merely add thereto my own, and whenever I may require mesicaments, there stands my old man, and you need not offer me any strange Laxirung.
"Such phrases and notions are indeed not at all proper. What must my honoured cousin think? he certainly imagines we live quite freely with each other as if we had been married together. It remains a constant truth, that whoever has been once a virtoso, can never again become a simple-minded man, he is for ever lost to pomology, kindheartedness, or hormanity."
​"Do not become warm about it gossip," said the musician; "I have never dreamed of offending you."
"No more," said she angrily, "to me of dreams and dreampeter stories; for they are just as unsufferable to me as your sonneteering on my table there. It too has not once dreamed, that in its old age it would serve as a finger board.—"
"Peace," said Godfred, "you do not understand all that, Barbara, for the people over there are assembling. What is the matter then. Let our gossip play the harpsichord, he uses his own fingers for it and not yours, but something new must have occurred, I should like to hear, we must question our neighbours."
"Thus throwing unconsciously the different conversations together, because he was curious, and yet he also wished to answer, he now demanded of one that was running by, why the neighbourhood seemed thus in an uproar. Now smart firing was heard close by. "There must ​be great confusion on all sides, in the valley," said a country woman.
All quitted the garden, and the firing of smell guns was distinctly heard as it was borne on the air.
"Ugh!" sighed Dubois, who could now climb the mountain. One must hear it much more distinctly up there."
"I like not," said Godfred, "to have any thing to do with war and war cries. The unfortunate, beautiful, peaceful villages, until now we have heard nothing of it, except once at the very beginning, now again we receive the evil visit."
"There yonder," thought the woman, "they have the miracle working statue of the Mother of God, that will protect them all, the rebels cannot effect any thing in opposition to that: Fire and sword, balls and blows cannot prevail against the heavenly miracle."
Detached light cavalry scoured the village. They enquired the way and desired to rejoin their companions from ​whom they had been cut off on the mountains.
The trumpeter approached the officer with a face of importance, while he pointed out to him a mountain road, upon which the horses, in a case of necessity, could make their way through. "I have myself had the honour to serve in the royal guards;" added he proudly. "As what?" asked the young officer. "It was granted to me," said the former, "to be first trumpeter of the regiment. How goes it, sir captain, with the rebels?" "Grant to me, trumpeter," answered the leader, "to owe you the answer until we meet again. The knaves are possessed by the devil, and it fares badly with us. If you could blow them away, we would then take you with us."
Thereupon they all galloped away, whilst the whole body raised a burst of laughter. "Service is no longer as it was formerly," observed Dubois, "the old, genuine ​soldier-like gallantry must give place to new-fashioned boasting, and venerable age and experience are of no value among the raw striplings."