Doubtless this was tedious to all; but no one, even the children, so
much as murmured at it, except Gabrielle, who was inexpressibly wearied,
and now and then gave a long yawn, which set others yawning, and
procured her a good-humored rebuke.

"How long is this to last?" said she.

"Till the dragoons find us out, perhaps," said my father, gravely; which
silenced her for a little while.

"Our provisions will not last long," said she presently.

"Then we must procure more," said my mother. "We have enough for the
present."

"Yes, we have cheese and wine and flour; but what good is flour unless
it is cooked?"

"Do not make mountains of molehills, Gabrielle," said Madeleine, aside;
"it is such a bad example for the children."

"Well, but they are not molehills," returned Gabrielle, in rather a
lower tone, which, however, we could hear well enough. "I suppose we
cannot starve."

"Has your endurance so soon ceased, my dear girl?" said my father.
"Think of the believers of old. They had trials of cruel mockings and
scourgings, yea, moreover, of bonds and imprisonment. They were stoned;
they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword; they
wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins, being destitute, afflicted,
tormented (of whom the world was not worthy); they wandered in deserts
and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth. And yet none of
these, though they obtained a good report in God's own word for their
faith, had received the explicit promises through Christ, God having
provided those better things for us; wherefore we surely should be
ashamed to show less constancy than they did."

"Oh, of course," said Gabrielle.

"Think of what Jacques is bearing without a murmur," said Madeleine.
"I'm sure he sets an example to us all."

"And as to minding what we eat," said little Charles, "I'm sure I don't
mind it a bit. Do I, mamma?"

"Oh, if you are all going to be against me, I shall say no more," said
Gabrielle.

"That's right," said my mother. "Put a brave heart on it, my dear;
I know you have it in you."

Gabrielle bit her lip, but took out a comb, and began to arrange little
Louison's hair. "Now," she whispered, "I'll make you as smart as the
young lady we saw with Madame de Laccassagne;" and in this way she
amused herself and the child, talking nonsense with her, and inventing
imaginary scenes and people, all in a hushed voice, that my father might
not hear.

Suddenly, some one a