, 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 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
godliness is all a lie."

"As you 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," replie