k with their pikes, and finally one of them
struck her for her persistence.

"Pierre, look at her old mother; ah, Holy Virgin, what a stubborn lot
are these heretics."

Her mother! Great powers of heaven, could it be possible? My
indignation blazed out against the inhuman guard.

"Why do ye this most un-Christian thing?" and to the crowd:

"Do you call yourselves men to stand by and witness this?"

At my words one sturdy young fellow, of the better, peasant-farmer
class, broke from those who held him and would have thrown himself
unarmed against the mail-clad guard. Many strong arms kept him back.
He struggled furiously for a while, then sank in the sheer desperation
of exhaustion upon the road. As soon as he was quiet the mob,
gathering about the more attractive spectacle, left him quite alone. I
went up to him, laid my hand upon his shoulder, and spoke to him
kindly. He looked up, surprised that one wearing a uniform should show
him human sympathy. He had a good, honest face, blue-eyed and frank,
yet such an expression of utter hopelessness as never marred a mortal
countenance. It haunts me to this day.

I was touched by the man's sullen apathy, succeeding so quickly to the
desperate energy I had seen him display, and asked concerning his
trouble.

"Oh, God, Monsieur, my wife, Celeste, my young wife! Only a year
married, Monsieur." He raised upon his elbow, taking my hand in both
of his, "We tried to go; tried to reach England, America, anywhere but
France; they brought us back, put us in prison; she died--died,
Monsieur, of cruelty and exposure, then they cast her out like some
unclean thing; she, so pure, so good. Only look, lying there. Holy
Mother of Christ, look down upon her."

He turned his gaze to where his wife lay and sprang up.

"She shall not--shall not," and cast himself again towards the guard.
A dozen men seized him.

Deeply pained by his misery and the horror of the thing, I made my way
to the front, near where the body lay.

"What is this foul law of which you spoke? Tell me?"

My tone had somewhat of authority and anger in it, so the fellow gave
me civil answer.

"The law buries a Huguenot as you see--such unholy flesh could never
sleep in holy earth. The beasts and birds will provide her proper
sepulcher."

"Nay, but compose her fittingly; here is my cloak."

"It is not the order of the King," he sullenly replied. The brutal
throng again gave assent.

"'Tis not t