"Sir captain," said the Counsellor, "repose is necessary to your old age after this exertion and fatigue, lie down, and the safety, which my house is capable of affording, I again assure you, shall be faithfully granted to you."
"May heaven reward you," said the captain; "I look upon this untoward adventure as a hint of fate, warning me to lay down my arms, I shall do so, and return to a cell, or a cloister. Had Cavalier been with the troop, I should not have escaped him, for he possesses the utmost presence of mind, he is the boldest and indeed the most soldierly among the rebels."
"It is said that he is taken prisoner," observed the huntsman.
"The war is over then," exclaimed the hermit, "for, without him, they can undertake nothing; this powerful man is alone the soul of their venturous enterprise. The others understand well enough how to kill and to die, but not how to conduct the war. I wish he had died; for should he be taken prisoner, his fate will be one worthy of commiseration."
During this discourse, the priest, who had until then considered himself of so much importance, now felt lost and dwindled to nothing by the side of the so far greater adventurer. He would willingly have testified his veneration for him by an embrace, or, at least, by a grasping of the hand, but he dared not venture to approach one, whose wrath was so easily excited by any degree of familiarity. The tall man paced up and down the hall, examining all present with a scrutinising look: "Two servants, perhaps, moreover a valet and a huntsman," he muttered to himself, but loud enough to be heard, "will not indeed be capable of offering much resistance, the house is by no means fortified in case of an attack, then the young lord here, a sort of sportsman, the black one also in case of necessity to engage the enemy, but that chicken-hearted one, (looking penetratingly at the young miller) that downy-faced fellow is quite useless. May God forbid, we should be put to so severe a test." He now, as well as the others, paid their parting compliments to the Counsellor, as they were retiring for the night; they were lighted to their apartments by the domestics, and Edmond alone remained in the hall with his father. The rain had ceased, but the night was dark and the sky was covered with lowering clouds. The father and son walked up and down for some time in silence; at length the Counsellor said: "will you not retire to rest my son?" "I am still too much agitated and did you not hear, that our last guest feared we should perhaps have to receive another unexpected visit?"--Silence ensued, but Edmond after a pause recommenced: "Forgive me, my father, if I confess, that I have not understood you to-day, that I have not recognised in you the same person as formerly. That you received these people and sheltered them from the storm, was natural enough, but how it could be conformable to your disposition, (or what shall I call it) to suffer them to eat at your table without distinction, I cannot explain to myself. Often already have our people entertained menials; and what countenance shall I assume when this squinting huntsman shall wait upon me again at the table of the Lord of Basville, I know not; and what will the Intendant and the Marshal, who certainly must hear of it, think, or say? How shall I explain it to myself, that you received that miller's boy not only with kindness and condescension, but yet with hearty familiarity? who is even too low to be your menial, that you allow my sister, who is always too forward to play and romp with him?"
"My son," said the old man with some emotion, "it seems indeed, that, the older I become, the less capable do I feel of justifying myself to you: I might say, accustom yourself to my ways, as I must through affection bear with yours, though I misunderstand them so often. You must certainly excuse me, as you did not explain yourself before, our conversation to-day had made so deep an impression on me, indeed, such as I have not experienced for a long time. In my emotion I forgot to attend to the usual etiquette of life, and as I could not avoid entertaining the priest at our own table, I added the two other poor fellows, but as to that miller, who has more particularly drawn upon himself your hatred and contempt, his child-like countenance and frank, open manners, in my opinion, did more honour to my table, than your Marshal Montrevel could ever do. Accident, the weather brought us together; the times are also so changed that we do not yet know, but we ourselves may be compelled to sue for refuge among the most miserable. But as you so despise that youth, I still less comprehend that you should honour him so highly as to argue with him, nay, to seek yourself for a dispute; for the future interfere not with my ways."
They sat down and as Edmond was silent, the Counsellor said, after a pause: "What do you think then of this priest and his manners? such as these, you see, are appointed to direct and instruct the people, the unfortunate people! these became combatants and murderers like this colossus. That my house is compelled to shelter such, that is it indeed which humbles me. All champions for a good cause may not be individually good," said Edmond.
"Retire to rest now, my son," said the Counsellor kindly, "I shall sit up some time longer, I am too disturbed to be able to sleep, I shall read yet a little while, rest will then ensue with cooler blood." Edmond embraced his father, and then retired to his chamber. The old man gazed sorrowfully after him, and thought upon his son's future destiny; he sunk into a deep and melancholy reverie, no where did hope, or comfort seem to await him. He took up his book in order to calm the perturbation of his spirit, he tried to collect himself; he reflected upon the wonderful disposition of the mind, to divert itself by that which is most profound, in order to escape from its own appropriate feelings, and to be itself again in the inward sanctuary of the spirit. Thus without reading Plato, which he had laid open before him, he became more and more absorbed in a contemplative investigation on the double nature of the soul and of the mind, that reflects on itself and comprehends its nature and property, which, in thought, at the same time, views, and proving it, ponders upon this thought, being at once actor and spectator, and being only at this moment truly conscious of itself. He did not know how long he might have indulged in these reflections; when raising his eyes, he was surprised to see his son by his side. "You are still here, Edmond?" said he wondering. "No, my father," whispered the son, "I have reposed quite two hours, but just now when I awoke, I heard under the window a whispering and a movement as of many men, I approached, but could distinguish nothing, however, it seemed to me, as if people were gathering round our house, I have loaded in haste all our fire-arms, and quietly awakened the domestics. The strangers are still asleep, but they must now assist in our defence."
"If it be so, and that you have not been mistaken," said the father, "promise me only not to be too eager; let us be quiet and collected, for thereby one may be often enabled to prevent the worst, but I well know, by experience, that from the love of danger and fiery courage, which as easily defeat their object as cowardice, misfortune and destruction may be drawn down upon us. We must not venture alone, you must not forget your little sister. Now do I wish, that I had been a soldier, that I might meet this invasion with serenity, should it come