e town of La Sablerie. The place was in
disgrace for having afforded shelter and supplies to Montgomery's pirate
crews, and there were narrations of outrages committed on Catholics. The
army were enraged by their failure before La Rochelle; in effect, it was
resolved to make an example, when, on M. de Nid de Merle's summons, all
knowledge of the lady was denied. Is it possible that she was indeed not
there?'

Berenger shook his head. 'She was indeed there,' he said, with an
irrepressible groan. 'Was there no mercy--none?'

'Ask not, sir,' said the compassionate priest; 'the flesh shrinks,
though there may be righteous justice. A pillaged town, when men are
enraged, is like a place of devils unchained. I reached it only after it
had been taken by assault, when all was flame and blood. Ask me no
more; it would be worse for you to hear than me to tell,' he concluded,
shuddering, but laying his hand kindly on Berenger's arm. 'At least it
is ended now and God is more merciful than men. Many died by the bombs
cast into to city, and she for whom you ask certainly fell not alive
into the hands of those who sought her. Take comfort, sir; there is One
who watches and takes count of our griefs. Sir, turning to Philip, 'this
gentleman is too much spent with sorrow to bear this cold and damp. Aid
me, I entreat, to persuade him to lie down.'

Philip understood the priest's French far better than that of the
peasants, and added persuasions that Berenger was far too much exhausted
and stunned to resist. To spend a night in a Popish priest's house would
once have seemed to Philip a shocking alternative, yet here he was,
heartily assisting in removing the wet garments in which his brother
had sat only too long, and was heartily relieved to lay him down in the
priest's own bed, even though there was an image over the head, which,
indeed, the boy never saw. He only saw his brother turn away from the
light with a low, heavy moan, as if he would fain be left alone with his
sorrow and his crushed hopes.

Nothing could be kinder than Dome Colombeau, the priest of Nissard.
He saw to the whole of his guests being put into some sort of dry
habiliments before they sat round his table to eat of the savoury mess
in the great _pot-au-feu_, which had, since their arrival, received
additional ingredients, and moreover sundry villagers had crept into the
house. Whenever the good Father supped at home, any of his flock were
welcome to drop in to enjo