A Beleaguered City

by Mrs. Oliphant

denied to him,brought me back to myself. How often had I read it in his eyes before!He--the priest--the servant of the unseen--yet to all of us lay personshad that been revealed which was hid from him. A great pity was withinme, and gave me strength. 'Brother,' I said, 'we are weak. If we sawheaven opened, could we trust to our vision now? Our imaginations aremasters of us. So far as mortal eye can see, we are alone in Semur. Haveyou forgotten your psalm, and how you sustained us at the first? Andnow, your Cathedral is open to you, my brother. _Laetatus sum_,' I said.It was an inspiration from above, and no thought of mine; for it is wellknown, that though deeply respectful, I have never professed religion.With one impulse we turned, we went together, as in a procession, acrossthe silent place, and up the great steps. We said not a word to eachother of what we meant to do. All was fair and silent in the holy place;a breath of incense still in the air; a murmur of psalms (as one couldimagine) far up in the high roof. There I served, while he said hismass. It was for my friend that this impulse came to my mind; but I wasrewarded. The days of my childhood seemed to come back to me. Alltrouble, and care, and mystery, and pain, seemed left behind. All Icould see was the glimmer on the altar of the great candle-sticks, thesacred pyx in its shrine, the chalice, and the book. I was again an_enfant de choeur_ robed in white, like the angels, no doubt, nodisquiet in my soul--and my father kneeling behind among the faithful,bowing his head, with a sweetness which I too knew, being a father,because it was his child that tinkled the bell and swung the censer.Never since those days have I served the mass. My heart grew soft withinme as the heart of a little child. The voice of M. le Cure was full oftears--it swelled out into the air and filled the vacant place. I kneltbehind him on the steps of the altar and wept.

  Then there came a sound that made our hearts leap in our bosoms. Hisvoice wavered as if it had been struck by a strong wind; but he was abrave man, and he went on. It was the bells of the Cathedral that pealedout over our heads. In the midst of the office, while we knelt allalone, they began to ring as at Easter or some great festival. At firstsoftly, almost sadly, like choirs of distant singers, that died away andwere echoed and died again; then taking up another strain, they rang outinto the sky with hurrying notes and clang of joy. The effect uponmyself was wonderful. I no longer felt any fear. The illusion wascomplete. I was a child again, serving the mass in my littlesurplice--aware that all who loved me were kneeling behind, that thegood God was smiling, and the Cathedral bells ringing out their majesticAmen.

  M. le Cure came down the altar steps when his mass was ended. Togetherwe put away the vestments and the holy vessels. Our hearts were soft;the weight was taken from them. As we came out the bells were dyingaway in long and low echoes, now faint, now louder, like mingled voicesof gladness and regret. And whereas it had been a pale twilight when weentered, the clearness of the day had rolled sweetly in, and now it wasfair morning in all the streets. We did not say a word to each other,but arm and arm took our way to the gates, to open to our neighbours, tocall all our fellow-citizens back to Semur.

  If I record here an incident of another kind, it is because of thesequel that followed. As we passed by the hospital of St. Jean, we hearddistinctly, coming from within, the accents of a feeble yet impatientvoice. The sound revived for a moment the troubles that were stilledwithin us--but only for a moment. This was no visionary voice. Itbrought a smile to the grave face of M. le Cure and tempted me well nighto laughter, so strangely did this sensation of the actual, break anddisperse the visionary atmosphere. We went in without any timidity,with a conscious relaxation of the great strain upon us. In a littlenook, curtained off from the great ward, lay a sick man upon his bed.'Is it M. le Maire?' he said; 'a la bonne heure! I have a complaint tomake of the nurses for the night. They have gone out to amusethemselves; they take no notice of poor sick people. They have known fora week that I could not sleep; but neither have they given me a sleepingdraught, nor endeavoured to distract me with cheerful conversation. Andto-day, look you, M. le Maire, not one of the sisters has come near me!'

  'Have you suffered, my poor fellow?' I said; but he would not go so faras this.

  'I don't want to make complaints, M. le Maire; but the sisters do notcome themselves as they used to do. One does not care to have a strangenurse, when one knows that if the sisters did their duty--But if it doesnot occur any more I do not wish it to be thought that I am the one tocomplain.'

  'Do not fear, mon ami,' I said. 'I will say to the Reverend Mother thatyou have been left too long alone.'

  'And listen, M. le Maire,' cried the man; 'those bells, will they neverbe done? My head aches with the din they make. How can one go to sleepwith all that riot in one's ears?'

  We looked at each other, we could not but smile. So that which is joyand deliverance to one is vexation to another. As we went out again intothe street the lingering music of the bells died out, and (for the firsttime for all these terrible days and nights) the great clock struck thehour. And as the clock struck, the last cloud rose like a mist anddisappeared in flying vapours, and the full sunshine of noon burst onSemur.

  SUPPLEMENT BY M. DE BOIS-SOMBRE.

  When M. le Maire disappeared within the mist, we all remained behindwith troubled hearts. For my own part I was alarmed for my friend. M.Martin Dupin is not noble. He belongs, indeed, to the _hautebourgeoisie,_ and all his antecedents are most respectable; but it ishis personal character and admirable qualities which justify me incalling him my friend. The manner in which he has performed his dutiesto his fellow-citizens during this time of distress has been sublime. Itis not my habit to take any share in public life; the unhappycircumstances of France have made this impossible for years.Nevertheless, I put aside my scruples when it became necessary, to leavehim free for his mission. I gave no opinion upon that mission itself,or how far he was right in obeying the advice of a hare-brainedenthusiast like Lecamus. Nevertheless the moment had come at which ourbanishment had become intolerable. Another day, and I should haveproposed an assault upon the place. Our dead forefathers, though I wouldspeak of them with every respect, should not presume upon theirprivilege. I do not pretend to be braver than other men, nor have Ishown myself more equal than others to cope with the present emergency.But I have the impatience of my countrymen, and rather than rot hereoutside the gates, parted from Madame de Bois-Sombre and my children,who, I am happy to state, are in safety at the country house of thebrave Dupin, I should have dared any hazard. This being the case, a newstep of any kind called for my approbation, and I could not refuse underthe circumstances--especially as no ceremony of installation wasrequired or profession of loyalty to one government or another--to takeupon me the office of coadjutor and act as deputy for my friend Martinoutside the walls of Semur.

  The moment at which I assumed the authority was one of greatdiscouragement and depression. The men were tired to death. Their mindswere worn out as well as their bodies. The excitement and fatigue hadbeen more than they could bear. Some were for giving up the contest andseeking new homes for themselves. These were they, I need not remark,who had but little to lose; some seemed to care for nothing but to liedown and rest. Though it produced a great movement among us when Lecamussuddenly appeared coming out of the city; and the undertaking of Dupinand the excellent Cure was viewed with great interest, yet there couldnot but be signs apparent that the situation had lasted too long. It was_tendu_ in the strongest degree, and when that is the case a reactionmust come. It is impossible to say, for one thing, how treat was ourpersonal discomfort. We were as soldiers campaigning without acommissariat, or any precautions taken for our welfare; no food savewhat was sent to us from La Clairiere and other places; no means ofcaring for our personal appearance, in which lies so much of thematerials of self respect. I say nothing of the chief features ofall--the occupation of our homes by others--the forcible expulsion ofwhich we had been the objects. No one could have been more deeplyimpressed than myself at the moment of these extraordinary proceedings;but we cannot go on with one monotonous impression, howeve
r serious, weother Frenchmen. Three days is a very long time to dwell in one thought;I myself had become impatient, I do not deny. To go away, which wouldhave been very natural, and which Agathe proposed, was contrary to myinstincts and interests both. I trust I can obey the logic ofcircumstances as well as another; but to yield is not easy, and to leavemy hotel at Semur--now the chief residence, alas! of theBois-Sombres--probably to the licence of a mob--for one can never tellat what moment Republican institutions may break down and sink back intothe chaos from which they arose--was impossible. Nor would I forsake thebrave Dupin without the strongest motive; but that the situation wasextremely _tendu_, and a reaction close at hand, was beyond dispute.

  I resisted the movement which my excellent friend made to take off andtransfer to me his scarf of office. These things are much thought ofamong the _bourgeoisie_. '_Mon