Melchior's Dream and Other Tales

September, and Sunday, a day of rest and peace in all Christian countries, and even more in gay, beautiful F

ere alike wanting; the streets in some places seemed deserted, and in others there was an ominous crowd, and the dreary s

out from the warehouse, another man came down the street. His dress was not beautiful, neither was he. There was a red look about him-he wore a red flannel cap, tricolour ribbons, and had something red upon his hands, which was neither ribbon nor flannel. He also looked hungry; but it was not for food. The other stopped when he saw him, and pulled something

rld and lov

every sheph

's," he said, with an appealing glance of violet eyes; "I would

ng?" said he

d the other, with a smile that would

is conductor, hardly noticed the crowds in the streets, the signs by which the man got free passage for them both, or their entrance by a little side-door into a large dark building, and never knew

feast in the court below, which he shall join presently. See to i

nd cries from a court below came up l

n cont

n, this Monsieur. It belonged

insane fury on the ground, and, bidding the gaoler

r passage in the prison, into which several cells opened, and a number of the prisoners were gathered together at one end of it. One of them had watched the proceedings of the Jacobin and his victim with profound interest, and now advanced to where the poor youth lay. He was a priest, and though thirteen years had passed over his head since we saw him in the chateau, and though toil and suffering and anxiety had a

now his face. He has escaped t

Is his name on

, and has just been br

ce the soul of the weak little gaoler; "Antoine, when you were a shoemaker in t

rithing; "if Monsieur le Curé would bel

im. You risk nothing. His name is not on the prison register. He will not be called, he will not be missed; that fanatic will think that he has perished with the r

a knot of white ribbon, which he also restored; and, finally, a tiny pocket or bag of what had been cream-coloured satin, embroidered with small bunches of heartsease, and which was aromatic with otto of roses. Awkwardly, and somewhat slowly, he drew out of this a small locket, in the centre of

nd will sell for much. The blessing of a dying priest upon you if you do kindly, and his curse if you do ill to this poor c

ear it. He was discontentedly watching the body of the Viscount, whom he c

Monsieur le Curé sees that h

d his old pupil up in his arms as if he had

o further," said

g the young nobleman to his bosom with the last gush of earthly affection that he was to feel, he kis

st, be with thee now and in the dread hour

e of silenced memories passed from his face and left a shinin

e in the little book, the lips formed the old old words; but it might almost

steps that led to the cell by the simple process of dragging him by the heels. After a similar fashion he crossed the floor, and was deposi

to be level with the court; there was a pallet-painfully pressed and worn-a chair, a stone on which stood a plate and broken pitcher, and in one corner a huge bundle of firewood which mocked a p

ne was loose. As he did so, his eye fell upon the floor, and he noticed that two of the stones that lay about had been raised up by some one and a third laid upon the top. It looked like child's play, and Monsieur the Viscount kicked it down, and then he saw that underneath it there was a pellet of paper roughly rolled together. Evidently it was something left by the

-vous du

er the

luxury, and surrounded with everything that could make life beautiful; while ugliness, and want, and sickness, and all that make life miserable, had been kept, as far as they can be kept, from the precincts of the beautiful chat

d then made inquiries as to how he came and how long he had been there. When the gaoler began to describe him, whom he called the Curé, Monsieur the Viscount's attention quickened into eagerness, an eagerness deepened by the tender interest tha

is breviary. Ah! it is he. It is Monsieur the Preceptor, whom I have

he Preceptor w

ls throughout the night, made it like some hideous dream. At last the morning broke; at half-past two o'clock, some members of the commune presented themselves in the hall of the National Assembly with the significant announcement:-"The prisons are empty!" and Antoine, wh

days, the gaoler hung above his prisoner's pallet with the tenderness of a woman. Was he haunted by the vision of a burly figure that ha

do well, and his curse if you do ill to this poo

presence in the prison a secret; and it was not till the crisis was safely past, that he began to

two lights like stars near together, which were close to the ground, and kept appearing and then vanishing away. In time he became more sensible; the chateau melted into the stern reality of his prison walls; the delicate food became bread and water; the servants disappeared like spectres; but in the empty cell, in the dark corners near the floor, he still fancied that he saw two spark

and took up one of the large damp stones which lay about the floor of the cell, to throw at the intruder. He expected that when he approached it, the toad would crawl away, and that he could throw the stone after it; but to his surprise, the beast sat quite unmoved, looking at him wi

ong after they have put an end to my feeble life. It shall remain. The cell is not big, but it is big enough for

ad, placed another stone by it, and removed the pitcher; and

at him with topaz eyes. He lay still this time and did not move, for the a

former inmate of this wretched prison can have amused his solitude by maki

shining lustrous eyes; but whenever there was a sound of the key grating in the lock, and the gaoler coming his rounds, away crept the toad, and was quickl

ster and a kind one; but, tell me, who was he, and where is he now? Was he old or young, and was

nt, but he made no reply, and Monsieur

efore me?" he asked at

Curé had this room. My orders were th

in the window through which the bees flew in and out, and he would stand for hours with his thumb in the breviary, watching the labours of his pets. And this also had been his room! This dark, damp cell. Here, breviary in hand, he had stood, and lain, and knelt. Here, in this miserable prison, he had found something to love, and on which to expen

ct that he had applied them to his own life, not only in the time of wealth, but in the time of tribulation and in the hour of death. All that high-strung piety-that life of prayer-those unswerving admonitions to consider the vanity of earthly treasures, and to prepare for death-which had sounded so unreal amidst the perfumed elegances of the chateau, came back now with a reality gained from experiment. The daily life of se

re had not disturbed Monsieur the Preceptor. He had prayed in the chateau-he prayed in the prison. He had often spoken in the chateau of the softening and comforting influences of communion with the lower animal

only lived

re distant than ever. Monsieur the Viscount met, in short, with all those difficulties that the soul must meet with, which, in a moment of enthusiasm, has resolved upon a higher and a better way of life, and in moments of depression is perpetually tempted to forego that resolution. His prison life was, however, a

een retaken. As it was, Antoine on more than one occasion concealed him behind the bundles of firewood, and once or twice he narrowly escaped detection by less friendly officials. There were times when the guillotine seemed to him almost better than this long suspense: b

vice to his master, who would lie and chatter to him for hours, and almost forget his present discomfort in recalling past happiness, as he described the chateau, the gardens, the burly tutor, and beautiful Madame, or laughed over his childish remembrances of the toad's teeth in Claude Mignon's pocket; whilst Monsieur Crapaud sat well-bred and silent, with a world of comprehen

strengthened daily; and one day something happened which sh

attention to the intruder. The spider, as if conscious of danger, had suddenly stopped still. Monsieur Crapaud gazed at it intently with his beautiful eyes, and bent himself slightly forward. So they remained for some seconds, then the spider turned round, and began suddenly to scramble away. At this instant Monsieur the Viscount saw h

scount burst in

red on your part. Who gave you leave to eat my spiders

l appeared to be fish that came to his net-spiders and beetles, slugs and snails from the damp corners, flies, and wood-lice found on turning up the large stone, disappeared one after the other. The wood-lice were an especial amusement: when Monsieur the Viscount touched them, they shut up into tight little balls, and in this condition he removed them to the stone, and placed t

and by piling up stones on the floor, Monsieur the Viscount contrived

fat black spider by a sound of something bumping against the iron bars. On looking up, he saw that a string was dangling before the window with something attached to the end of it. He drew it in, and, as he did so, he fancied that he heard a distant sound of voices and clapped hands, as if from some window above. He proceeded to examine his prize, and found that it was a little round

how long have you been impris

determined to risk all. He tore off a bit of the paper,

et, June

shed in the massacres of September, 1792. Keep my secret. I have been imp

ed anxiously for the reply. It came,

ur frankness. Henri Edouard Clermont, Baron de St. Claire. Valerie de St. Clai

and to Monsieur le Baron-that of wife, of sister, or of daughter? And from some equally inexplicable cause Monsieur the Viscount determined in his own mind that it was the latter. To make assurance doubly sure, however, he laid a trap to discover the real state of the case. He wrote a letter of thanks and sympathy, expressed with all the delicate chival

last question, he turned round involuntarily, and looked to where Monsieur Crapaud sat by the broken pitcher. The beautiful ey

and weaker, and more fretful. His prayers were accompanied by greater mental struggles, and watered with more tears. He was, however, most positive in his assurances to Monsieur Crapaud that he knew the exact nature a

a certain young lawyer who had really died of fever in prison the day before. Monsieur the Viscount thanked him; and it was not till the next morning arrived, and he was expecting them every moment, that Monsieur the Viscount remembered the toad, and that he would without doubt be swept away with the rest in the general clearance. At first he thought that he would beg them to leave it, but some knowledge of the petty insults which that class of men heaped upon their prisoners made him feel that this would probably be only an additional reason for their taking the animal away. There was no place to hide it in, for they would go all round the room; unless-unless Monsieur the Viscount took it up in his hand. And this was just

as the toad hastily descended to hide itself as usual in the corners. In a moment his resolution was gone; another second, and it would be too late. He dashe

, who had been eyeing the prisoner suspiciously, stopped and said w

. "He spends most of his time in bed, whi

other, obstinately. "Let th

ssesses you, my comrade? Let the poor wretch alone. What wouldst

of them," said Fran?ois, sharply. "I say that the prisoner secretes so

keep himself from speaking, and held

lamation, and Fran?ois got behind his

face. "Behold, citizen, what I secrete, and what I desire to keep. Beho

n?ois; "many a witch has been

th. "If you wish me to suffer, citizen, let this be my witness that I have suffered. I must be very friendl

e for all. She gave one of these dogs a few rags to dress a wound on his back with, and he made a rope of his dressings, and let himself dow

e was holding his golden-eyed friend. There are times in life when the brute creation contra

, "I am not. Thou art zealous, my comrade, but dull as an owl. The Republic is far-sighted in her wisdom beyond thy coarse ideas, and has more ways of taking their heads from these aristocrats than on

l not be for long, my Crapaud. Something tells me that I cannot much longer be overlooked. A little whi

h to be mischievous. Antoine's evident alarm made him suspicious, and he began to talk about the too-elegant-looking young lawyer who was imprisoned "in secret," and permitte

kness and suffering-in the unconquerable dignity, which dirt and raggedness were powerless to hide, the fatal nobility of his birth and breeding wer

, had a restless, nervous despondency expressed in all his movements; and a young girl who leant on his arm as if for support, but whose steady quietude gave her more the air of a supporter. Without seeing their faces, and for no reasonable reason, Monsieur the Viscount

common with almost all the faces in that room, it was blanched with suffering; and, it is fair to say, in common with many of them, it was pervaded by

daughter's face illumined; she turned her large eyes

his daughter and Monsieur the Viscount were left standing together. Monsieur the Viscount desired t

ed if he kn

but I am morally certain. There c

must suffer, Monsieur, I wish that we may suff

was sensible that the desire of life was mak

d to death with great ch

him with a look of surprise

rd to, but beyond it." She stopped and hesitated, still wa

ar the preaching of a monk who was famous for his eloquence. He said that his text was from the Scriptures-it has been in my mind all to-day-'There the w

lour, and Monsieur the Viscount stooped and kissed it, with a thick

u! Va

u! Lo

t went back to his prison, he flattered himself that the las

r the floor announced the return of Monsieur Crapaud from his hiding-place. With one wrinkled l

o time must be lost in making my will." Monsieur Crapaud was too wise to express any astonishment; and his master began to hunt for a tidy-looking stone (paper and cambric were both at an end). They were all rough and dirty; but necessity had made the Viscount inventive, and

cessor in

d companion for nearly two years of sad imprisonment. He has sat by my bedside, fed from my hand, and shared all my confidence. He is ugly, but he has beautiful eyes; he is silent, but he is attentive; he is a brute, but I wish the men of France were in th

this life are sharp but short; the joys of the next life are eternal. Think so

tament of Louis Archambaud Jea

ace of the larger of the stones. Then he hid it where the priest had hidden his bequest lo

he Viscount begged for a sight of it. It was brought to him. First on the list was Antoine! Halfway down was his own name, "Louis de B--," and a little lower his fascin

calm voice to echo in his ears. "It has been in my mind all to-day. T

ried his fac

seemed overpowered by terror. He had begged to be imprisoned for this last night with Monsieur the Visc

xiety was that Monsieur the Viscount should bear witness that the gaoler had treated him kindly, and so earned the blessing and not the curse of Monsieur le Curé, whose powerful presence seemed to haunt him still. O

master to that rough uncultivated heart, the great Truths of Christianity-so great and few and simple in their application to our needs! The violet eyes had never appealed more tenderly, the soft voice had

gles, seemed almost to "come natural" (as people say) to Antoine. With abundant tears he professed the deepest penitence for his past life, at the same time t

aoler's contrition and belief, Monsieur the Viscount could have done nothing but envy the ea

ie down on his pallet, and when the gaoler's heavy breathing told that he was asleep, Monsieur the Viscount fel

wn the cell, all the long-withheld peace for which he had striven since his imprisonment seemed to flood into his soul. How blessed-how undeservedly blessed-was his fate! Who or what was he that after such short, such mitigated sufferings, the crown of victory should be so near? The way had

eemed to him to rise out of the darkness, to take the form and features of the face of the priest, and to gaze at him with unutterable benediction. And in his mind,

Sauveur! Souvene

er the

embrance he

t it became intolerable, and wearied as he was, he awoke. It was broad daylight, and Antoine was snoring beside him. Surely the cart would come soon, the executions were generally at an early hour. But time went on, and no one cam

etite to yo

used to be friends. Tell me, what

t," said the other, significantly; "R

turously. When he raised his eyes to Monsieur the Viscount's face, his transports moderated. The last shock had been too much, he seemed almo

f Paris alone awoke from the shadow of death to