e choir galleries and
the pews. They wore little cockades in their bonnets, and sang the
'Marseillaise' to arouse the young men. You never saw anything like
it! Annette Petit, Mother Baltzer, and all those whom you see running
before us, with their prayer-books under their arms, were among the
foremost. But they had white teeth and beautiful hair then, and loved
'Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity.' Ha! ha! poor Bevel! poor Annette!
Now they are going to repent, though they were good patriots then; I
believe God will pardon them." He laughed as he recalled these old
stories, but when we had reached the steps of the church he grew sober,
and said:

"Yes--yes--everything changes, everything! I remember the day in '93,
when old Colin spoke of the country being in danger, when three hundred
young men left the country to join the army of Hoche; Colin followed
them, and became their commander. He was a terrible fellow among his
grenadiers. He would not sign the proposition to make Napoleon
emperor,--now he sells over the counter by the glass!"

Then looking at me as if he were astonished at his own thoughts, he
said, "Let us go in, Joseph."

We entered under the great pillars of the organ; the crowd was very
great, and he did not say a word more. There were lights burning in
the choir over the heads of the people. The only sound which broke the
silence was the opening and shutting of the doors of the pews. At last
we heard Sirou's halberd on the floor, and Mr. Goulden said, "There he
is!"

A light near the vessel for the holy water enabled us to see a little.
A shadow mounted to the pulpit at the left, while Koekli lighted two or
three candles with his stick. The preacher might have been twenty-five
or thirty years old, he had a pleasant, rosy face and heavy blonde hair
below his tonsure, that fell in curls over his neck. They commenced by
singing a psalm, the young girls of the village sang in the choir "What
joy to be a Christian." After that the preacher from the desk said,
that he had come to defend the faith, the law, and the "right divine"
of Louis XVIII., and demanded if any one had the audacity to take the
other side. As nobody wished to be stoned, there was a dead silence.
Then a brown, thin man, six feet high with a black cloak on, rose in
one of the pews opposite, and exclaimed:

"I have! I maintain that faith, religion, and the right of kings, and
all the rest, are nothing but superstitions.