A faint murmur arose about the house from the few people who were left there，and there was a saddling of a horse and riding away. There was spurring and splashing through the darkness，and bridle was drawn in the space by the village fountain，and the horse in a foam stood at Monsieur Gabelle's door.'Help，Gabelle！Help，every one！'The tocsin rang impatiently，but other help（if that were any）there was none.The mender of roads，and two hundred and fifty particular friends，stood with folded arms at the fountain，looking at the pillar of fire in the sky.'It must be forty feet high，'said they，grimly；and never moved.
The rider from the chateau，and the horse in a foam，clattered away through the village，and galloped up the stony steep，to the prison on the crag. At the gate，a group of officers were looking at the fire；removed from them，a group of soldiers.'Help，gentleman officers！The chateau is on fire；valuable objects may be saved from the flames by timely aid！Help，help！'The officers looked towards the soldiers who looked at the fire；gave no orders；and answered with shrugs and biting of lips，'It must burn.'
As the rider rattled down the hill again and through the street，the village was illuminating. The mender of roads，and the two hundred and fifty particular friends，inspired as one man and woman by the idea of lighting up，had darted into their houses，and were putting candles in every dull little pane of glass.The general scarcity of everything，occasioned candles to be borrowed in a rather peremptory manner of Monsieur Gabelle；and in amoment of reluctance and hesitation on that functionary's part，the mender of roads，once so submissive to authority，had remarked that carriages were good to make bonfires with，and that post-horses would roast.
The chateau was left to itself to flame and burn. In the roaring and raging of the conflagration，a red-hot wind，driving straight from the infernal regions，seemed to be blowing the edifice away.With the rising and falling of the blaze，the stone faces showed as if they were in torment.When great masses of stone and timber fell，the face with the two dints in the nose became obscured：anon struggled out of the smoke again，as if it were the face of the cruel Marquis，burning at the stake and contending with the fire.
The chateau burned；the nearest trees，laid hold of by the fire，scorched and shrivelled；trees at a distance，fired by the four fierce figures，begirt the blazing edifice with a new forest of smoke. Molten lead and iron boiled in the marble basin of the fountain；the water ran dry；the extinguisher tops of the towers vanished like ice before the heat，and trickled down into four rugged wells of flame.Great rents and splits branched out in the solid walls，like crystallisation；stupefied birds wheeled about and dropped into the furnace；four fierce figures trudged away，East，West，North，and South，along the night-enshrouded roads，guided by the beacon they had lighted，towards their next destination.The illuminated village had seized hold of the tocsin，and，abolishing the lawful ringer，rang for joy.
Not only that；but the village，light-headed with famine，fire，and bell-ringing，and bethinking itself that Monsieur Gabelle had to do with the collection of rent and taxes—though it was but a small instalment of taxes，and no rent at all，that Gabelle had gotin those latter days—became impatient for an interview with him，and，surrounding his house，summoned him to come forth for personal conference. Whereupon，Monsieur Gabelle did heavily bar his door，and retire to hold counsel with himself.The result of that conference was，that Gabelle again withdrew himself to his house-top behind his stack of chimneys；this time resolved，if his door were broken in（he was a small Southern man of retaliative temperament），to pitch himself head foremost over the parapet，and crush a man or two below.
Probably，Monsieur Gabelle passed a long night up there with the distant chateau for fire and candle，and the beating at his door，combined with the joy-ringing for music；not to mention his having an ill-omened lamp slung across the road before his posting-house gate，which the village showed a lively inclination to displace in his favour. A trying suspense，to be passing a whole summer night on the brink of the black ocean，ready to take that plunge into it upon which Monsieur Gabelle had resolved！But，the friendly dawn appearing at last，and the rush-candles of the village guttering out，the people happily dispersed，and Monsieur Gabelle came down bringing his life with him for that while.
Within a hundred miles，and in the light of other fires，there were other functionaries less fortunate，that night and other nights，whom the rising sun found hanging across once-peaceful streets，where they had been born and bred；also，there were other villagers and townspeople less fortunate than the mender of roads and his fellows，upon whom the functionaries and soldiery turned with success，and whom they strung up in their turn. But，the fierce figures were steadily wending East，West，North，and South，be that as it would；and whosoever hung，fire burned.The altitudeof the gallows that would turn to water and quench it，no functionary，by any stretch of mathematics，was able to calculate successfully.
XXX.DRAWN TO THE LOADSTONE ROCK
I n such risings of fire and risings of sea—the firm earth shaken by the rushes of an angry ocean which had now no ebb，but was always on the flow，higher and higher，to the terror and wonder of the beholders on the shore—three years of tempest were consumed. Three more birthdays of little Lucie had been woven by the golden thread into the peaceful tissue of the life of her home.
