as Hepleases. And if I receive no privileges, yet have I the privilege whichis best, which is, as M. le Cure justly observes, the highest of all--that of doing my duty. In this I thank the good Lord our Seigneur thatmy Martin has never needed to be ashamed of his mother.
I will also admit that when it was first made apparent to me--not by thesounds of voices which the others heard, but by the use of my reasonwhich I humbly believe is also a gift of God--that the way in which Icould best serve both those of the city and my son Martin, who is overthem, was to lead the way with the children and all the helpless to LaClairiere, thus relieving the watchers, there was for a time a greatstruggle in my bosom. What were they all to me, that I should desert myMartin, my only son, the child of my old age; he who is as his father,as dear, and yet more dear, because he is his father's son? 'What! (Isaid in my heart) abandon thee, my child? nay, rather abandon life andevery consolation; for what is life to me but thee?' But while my heartswelled with this cry, suddenly it became apparent to me how many therewere holding up their hands helplessly to him, clinging to him so thathe could not move. To whom else could they turn? He was the one amongall who preserved his courage, who neither feared nor failed. When thosevoices rang out from the walls--which some understood, but which I didnot understand, and many more with me--though my heart was wrung withstraining my ears to listen if there was not a voice for me too, yet atthe same time this thought was working in my heart. There was a poorwoman close to me with little children clinging to her; neither did sheknow what those voices said. Her eyes turned from Semur, all lost in thedarkness, to the sky above us and to me beside her, all confused andbewildered; and the children clung to her, all in tears, crying withthat wail which is endless--the trouble of childhood which does not knowwhy it is troubled. 'Maman! Maman!' they cried, 'let us go home.' 'Oh!be silent, my little ones,' said the poor woman; 'be silent; we will goto M. le Maire--he will not leave us without a friend.' It was then thatI saw what my duty was. But it was with a pang--_bon Dieu!_--when Iturned my back upon my Martin, when I went away to shelter, to peace,leaving my son thus in face of an offended Heaven and all the invisiblepowers, do you suppose it was a whole heart I carried in my breast? Butno! it was nothing save a great ache--a struggle as of death. But whatof that? I had my duty to do, as he had--and as he did not flinch, sodid not I; otherwise he would have been ashamed of his mother--and I? Ishould have felt that the blood was not mine which ran in his veins.
No one can tell what it was, that march to La Clairiere. Agnes at firstwas like an angel. I hope I always do Madame Martin justice. She is asaint. She is good to the bottom of her heart. Nevertheless, with thosenatures which are enthusiast--which are upborne by excitement--there isalso a weakness. Though she was brave as the holy Pucelle when we setout, after a while she flagged like another. The colour went out of herface, and though she smiled still, yet the tears came to her eyes, andshe would have wept with the other women, and with the wail of theweary children, and all the agitation, and the weariness, and the lengthof the way, had not I recalled her to herself. 'Courage!' I said to her.'Courage, _ma fille!_ We will throw open all the chambers. I will giveup even that one in which my Martin Dupin, the father of thy husband,died.' '_Ma mere_,' she said, holding my hand to her bosom, 'he is notdead--he is in Semur.' Forgive me, dear Lord! It gave me a pang that shecould see him and not I. 'For me,' I cried, 'it is enough to know thatmy good man is in heaven: his room, which I have kept sacred, shall begiven up to the poor.' But oh! the confusion of the stumbling, wearyfeet; the little children that dropped by the way, and caught at ourskirts, and wailed and sobbed; the poor mothers with babes upon eacharm, with sick hearts and failing limbs. One cry seemed to rise round usas we went, each infant moving the others to sympathy, till it rose likeone breath, a wail of 'Maman! Maman!' a cry that had no meaning,through having so much meaning. It was difficult not to cry out too inthe excitement, in the labouring of the long, long, confused, andtedious way. 'Maman! Maman!' The Holy Mother could not but hear it. Itis not possible but that she must have looked out upon us, and heard us,so helpless as we were, where she sits in heaven.
When we got to La Clairiere we were ready to sink down with fatigue likeall the rest--nay, even more than the rest, for we were not used to it,and for my part I had altogether lost the habitude of long walks. Butthen you could see what Madame Martin was. She is slight and fragile andpale, not strong, as any one can perceive; but she rose above the needsof the body. She was the one among us who rested not. We threw open allthe rooms, and the poor people thronged in. Old Leontine, who is the_garde_ of the house, gazed upon us and the crowd whom we brought withus with great eyes full of fear and trouble. 'But, Madame,' she cried,'Madame!' following me as I went above to the better rooms. She pulledme by my robe. She pushed the poor women with their children away.'_Allez donc, allez_!--rest outside till these ladies have time to speakto you,' she said; and pulled me by my sleeve. Then 'Madame Martin isputting all this _canaille_ into our very chambers,' she cried. She hadalways distrusted Madame Martin, who was taken by the peasants for aclerical and a devote, because she was noble. 'The _bon Dieu_ be praisedthat Madame also is here, who has sense and will regulate everything.''These are no _canaille,'_ I said: 'be silent, _ma bonne_ Leontine, hereis something which you cannot understand. This is Semur which has comeout to us for lodging.' She let the keys drop out of her hands. It wasnot wonderful if she was amazed. All day long she followed me about, hervery mouth open with wonder. 'Madame Martin, that understands itself,'she would say. 'She is romanesque--she has imagination--but Madame,Madame has _bon sens_--who would have believed it of Madame?' Leontinehad been my _femme de menage_ long before there was a Madame Martin,when my son was young; and naturally it was of me she still thought. ButI cannot put down all the trouble we had ere we found shelter for everyone. We filled the stables and the great barn, and all the cottagesnear; and to get them food, and to have something provided for those whowere watching before the city, and who had no one but us to think ofthem, was a task which was almost beyond our powers. Truly it was beyondour powers--but the Holy Mother of heaven and the good angels helped us.I cannot tell to any one how it was accomplished, yet it wasaccomplished. The wail of the little ones ceased. They slept that firstnight as if they had been in heaven. As for us, when the night came, andthe dews and the darkness, it seemed to us as if we were out of ourbodies, so weary were we, so weary that we could not rest. From LaClairiere on ordinary occasions it is a beautiful sight to see thelights of Semur shining in all the high windows, and the streetsthrowing up a faint whiteness upon the sky; but how strange it was nowto look down and see nothing but a darkness--a cloud, which was thecity! The lights of the watchers in their camp were invisible tous,--they were so small and low upon the broken ground that we could notsee them. Our Agnes crept close to me; we went with one accord to theseat before the door. We did not say 'I will go,' but went by oneimpulse, for our hearts were there; and we were glad to taste thefreshness of the night and be silent after all our labours. We leantupon each other in our weariness. 'Ma mere,' she said, 'where is he now,our Martin?' and wept. 'He is where there is the most to do, be thousure of that,' I cried, but wept not. For what did I bring him into theworld but for this end?
Were I to go day by day and hour by hour over that time of trouble, thestory would not please any one. Many were brave and forgot their ownsorrows to occupy themselves with those of others, but many also werenot brave. There were those among us who murmured and complained. Somewould contend with us to let them go and call their husbands, and leavethe miserable country where such things could happen. Some would raveagainst the priests and the government, and some against those whoneglected and offended the Holy Church. Among them there were those whodid not hesitate to say it was our fault, though how we were answerablethey could not tell. We were never at any time of the day or nightwithout a sound of some one weeping or bewailing herself, as if she werethe only sufferer, or crying out against those who had brought her here,far from all her fr
iends. By times it seemed to me that I could bear itno longer, that it was but justice to turn those murmurers_(pleureuses)_ away, and let them try what better they could do forthemselves. But in this point Madame Martin surpassed me. I do notgrudge to say it. She was better than I was, for she was more patient.She wept with the weeping women, then dried her eyes and smiled uponthem without a thought of anger--whereas I could have turned them to thedoor. One thing, however, which I could not away with, was that Agnesfilled her own chamber with the poorest of the poor. 'How,' I cried,thyself and thy friend Madame de Bois-Sombre, were you not enough tofill it, that you should throw open that chamber to good-for-nothings,to _va-nu-pieds_, to
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