'Oh yes, she will come to dress his wound in good time,' answered
the old woman.
'And when? I should like to hear what she thinks of it,' said
Berenger.
'How?' said the old woman with a certain satisfaction in his
disappointment; 'is our Lady of Hope to be coming down among you
gay gallants?' 'But who is this Lady of Hope?' demanded he.
'Who should she be but our good pastor's daughter? Ah! and a
brave, good daughter she was too, abiding the siege because his
breath was so bad that he could not be moved.' 'What was his name?' asked Berenger, attracted strangely by what he
heard.
'Ribault, Monsieur--Pasteur Ribault. Ah! a good man, and sound
preacher, when preach he could; but when he could not, his very
presence kept the monks' REVENANTS from vexing us--as a cat keeps
mice away; and, ah! The children have been changed creatures since
Madame dealt with them. What! Monsieur would know why they call
her our Lady of Hope? Esperance is her true name; and, moreover,
in the former days this abbey had an image that they called Notre-
Dame de l'Esperance, and the poor deceived folk thought it did
great miracles. And so, when she came hither, and wrought such
cures, and brought blessing wherever she went, it became a saying
among us that at length we had our true Lady of Hope.
A more urgent summons here forced Berenger away, and his repetition
of the same question received much the same answer from deaf old
Captain Falconnet. He was obliged to repair to his post with
merely a piece of bread in his hand; abut, though vigilance was
needful, the day bade fair to be far less actively occupied than
its predecessor: the enemy were either disposed to turn the siege
into a blockade, or were awaiting reinforcements and heavier
artillery; and there were only a few desultory attacks in the early
part of the morning. About an hour before noon, however, the
besiegers seemed to be drawing out in arms, as if to receive some
person of rank, and at the same time sounds were heard on the hills
to the eastward, as if troops were on the march. Berenger having
just been told by the old sergeant that probably all would be quiet
for some time longer, and been almost laughed at by the veteran for
consulting him whether it would be permissible for him to be absent
a few minutes to visit his brother, was setting out across the
bridge for the purpose, his eyes in the direction of the rampart,
which followed the curve of the river. The paths which--as has
been said--the feet of the washerwomen and drawers of water had
worn away in quieter times, had been smoothed and scarped away on
the outer side, so as to come to an abrupt termination some feet
above the gay marigolds, coltsfoot, and other spring flowers that
smiled by the water-side. Suddenly he beheld on the rampart a tiny
gray and white figure, fearlessly trotting, or rather dancing,
along the summit and the men around him exclaimed, 'The little
moonbeam child!' 'A fairy--a changeling!'--'They cannot shoot at
such a babe!' 'Nor could they harm her!' 'Hola! little one!
Gare! Go back to your mother!' 'Do not disturb yourself, sir;
she is safer than you,' were the ejaculations almost at the same
moment, while he sprang forward, horrified at the peril of such an
infant. He had reached the angle between the bridge and rampart,
when he perceived that neither humanity nor superstition were
protecting the poor child; for, as she turned down the remnant of
one of the treacherous little paths, a man in bright steel and deep
black had spurred his horse to the river's brink, and was
deliberately taking aim at her. Furious at such brutality,
Berenger fired the pistol he held in his hand, and the wretch
dropped from his horse; but at the same moment his pistol exploded,
and the child rolled down the bank, whence a piteous wail came up,
impelling Berenger to leap down to her assistance, in the full face
of the enemy. Perhaps he was protected for the moment by the
confusion ensuing on the fall of the officer; and when he reached
the bottom of the bank, he saw the little creature on her feet, her
round cap and gray woolen dress stripped half off in the fall, and
her flaxen hair falling round her plump, white, exposed shoulder,
but evidently unhurt, and gathering yellow marigolds as composedly
as though she had been making May garlands. He snatched her up,
and she said, with the same infantine dignity, 'Yes, take me up;
the naughty people spoilt the path. But I must take my beads
first.' And she tried to struggle out of his arms, pointing
therewith to a broken string among the marshy herb-age on which
gleamed--the pearls of Ribaumont!