While the more savage forward spring,And on the door their feet they plant,With fiery brand in their hand brandishing.
"Hold!I implore you!"cried a voice,before unheard;And sudden leapt before the crowd like lightning with the word,A man of stately strength and tall,It was the noble,brave Pascal!
"Cowards!"he cried."What?Will you murder women then,And burn their cot?Children of God!Are you the same?
Tigers you are,and cannot then be men;
And after all that they have suffered!Shame!
Fall back!Fall back!I say;the walls are growing hot!""Then let her leave us quite,this wretched Huguenot,For she was long since by the devil bought,God smites us 'cause we did not drive her forth before.""Quick!quick!"cried Pascal,"living they will burn!
Ye dogs,who moved ye to this awful crime?"
"'Twas Marcel,"they replied."See,now he comes in time!""You lie!"the soldier thundered in his turn;"I love her,boaster,more than thou!"
Said Pascal,"How wilt prove thy love,thou of the tender heart?""I come,"the other said,"to save her.I come to take her part.
I come,if so she will,to wed her,even now.""And so am I,"replied Pascal,and steadfastly Before his rival's eyes,as bound by some great spell.
Then to the orphan girl turned he,With worship all unspeakable.
"Answer me,Franconnette,and speak the truth alone;Thou'st followed by the wicked with spite and scorn,my own;But we two love thee well,and ready are to brave Death!Yes,or hell,thy precious life to save.
Choose which of us thou wilt!""Nay,"she lamented sore,"Dearest,mine is a love that slays!
Be happy,then,without me!Forget me!Go thy ways!""Happy without thee,dear!That can I never more:
Nay,were it true,as lying rumour says,An evil spirit ruled you o'er,I'd rather die with you,than live bereaved days!"When life is at its bitterest,The voice of love aye rules us best;Instantly rose the girl above her mortal dread,And on the crowd advancing straight,"Because I love Pascal,alone I'd meet my fate!
Howbeit his will is law,"she said,"Wherefore together let our souls be sped."Then was Pascal in heav'n,and Marcel in the dust laid low;Then Pascal sought his gallant rival,saying,"I am more blest than thou!Forgive!thou'rt brave,I know,Some squire[9]should follow me to death;then wilt thou not Serve me?I have no other friend!"Marcel seemed dreaming;And now he scowled with wrath,and now his eyes were kindling;Terrible was the battle in his mind;
Till his eye fell on Franconnette,serene and beaming,But with no word for him;then pale,but smilingly,"Because it is her will,"he said,"I follow thee."Two weeks had passed away,and a strange nuptial train,Adown the verdant hill went slowly to the plain;First came the comely pair we know,in all their bloom,While gathered far and wide,three deep on either side,The ever-curious rustics hied,Shudd'ring at heart o'er Pascal's doom.
Marcel conducts their march,but pleasures kindly true,Glows not upon th'unmoving face he lifts to view.
And something glances from his eye,That makes men shudder as they pass him by;Yet verily his mien triumphant is,at least Sole master is he of this feast,And gives his rival,for bouquet,A supper and a ball to-day.
But at the dance and at the board Alike,scarce one essayed a word;None sung a song,none raised a jest,For dark forebodings everyone oppressed.
And the betrothed,by love's deep rapture fascinated,Silent and sweet,though near the fate she sad awaited,No sound their dream dispelled,yet hand in hand did press,Their eyes looked ever in a visioned happiness;And so,at last,the evening fell.
But one affrighted woman straightway broke the spell;She fell on Pascal's neck and "Fly,my son!"she cried.
"I from the Sorcerer come!Fly,fly from thy false bride The fatal sieve[10]hath turned;thy death decree is spoken!
There's sulphur fume in bridal room,and by the same dread token,Enter it not;for if thou liv'st thou'rt lost,"she sadly said;"And what were life to me,my son,if thou wert dead?"Then Pascal felt his eyes were wet,And turned away,striving to hide his face,where on The mother shrieked,"Ingrate!but I will save thee yet.
Thou wilt not dare!"--falling before her stricken son.
"Thou shalt now o'er my body pass,even as thou goest forth!
A wife,it seems,is all;and mother nothing worth!
Unhappy that I am!"The crowd alas!their heavy tears ran down!
"Marcel,"the bridegroom said,"her grief is my despair;But love,thou knowest,'s stronger yet;indeed 'tis time to go!
Only,should I perish,let my mother be thy care.""I can no more,"cried Marcel,"thy mother's conquered here."And then the valiant soldier from his eyelids brushed a tear.
"Take courage,Pascal,friend of mine Thy Franconnette is good and pure.
That hideous tale was told,of dark design;
But give thy mother thanks;but for her coming,sure This night might yet have seen my death and thine.""What say'st thou?""Hush!now I will tell thee all;Thou knowest that I lov'd this maid,Pascal.
For her,like thee,I would have shed my blood;I dreamt that I was loved again;she held me in her thrall.
Albeit my prayer was aye withstood;
Her elders promised her to me;
And so,when other suitors barr'd my way,In spite,Saying,in love or war,one may use strategy,I gave the wizard gold,my rival to affright,Therefore,my chance did everything,insomuch that I said,My treasure is already won and made.
But when,in the same breath,we two our suit made known,And when I saw her,without turn of head,Choose thee,to my despair,it was not to be borne.
And then I vow'd her death and thine,before the morrow morn!
