Jasmin: Barber, Poet, Philanthropist Part 29

What priests! What candles! Crucifixes! Garlands!

What Angels,{7} and what banners!

You see there Artigues, Puymiral, Astafort, Saint-Cirq, Cardonnet, Lusignan, Brax, Roquefort, But this year, Roquefort first, o'erleapeth all.

What crowds there are of curious people, To watch the girl sold to the Devil!

The news has travelled everywhere; They know that she, in silent prayer, Implores the Virgin to protect her there!

Her neighbours scoff, and her menace, But saddened friends grieve at her sore disgrace, Love, through their heart, in fervour rills, Each one respects this plaintivest of girls; And many a pitying soul a prayer said, That some great miracle might yet be made In favour of this poor and suppliant maid.

She saw, rejoiced, more hope with her abode; Though voice of people is the voice of G.o.d!

Oh! how her heart beat as the church she neared, 'Twas for the Virgin's indulgence she cared.

Mothers with heartaches; young unfortunates; The orphan girls; the women without mates; All knelt before, with tapers waxen, The image of the Virgin; And there the aged priest, in surplice dressed, Placed the crosses at their lips, and afterwards them blessed.

No sign of sorrow did on any suppliant fall, But with their happy hearts, their ways went one and all, So Franconnette grew happy too, And most because Pascal prayed fervent in her view; She dared t'raise her eyes to the holy father's face, It seemed to her that love, hymns, lights, and the incense United, cried out, "Grace!"

"Grace, grace divine," she sighed, "and love! Let them be mine!"

Then stretching out her taper lit, and followed to the shrine, Bearing a garland in her hand; and all about her strove To give a place to her, and bade her forward move.

They fixed their eyes upon the sacred priest and her, And scarce a breath was drawn, and not a soul did stir; But when the priest, holding the image of redeeming love, Had laid it on the orphan's lips; before her kiss was given, Burst a terrific thunderpeal, as if 'twould rend the heaven, Blowing her taper out, and all the altar lights above.

Oh, what is this? The crashing thunder!

Her prayer denied, the lights put out!

Good G.o.d! she's sold indeed! All, all is true, no doubt, So a long murmur rose of horror and of wonder; For while the maiden breathlessly Cowering like some lost soul, their shuddering glances under, Sudden crept forth, all shrunk away, and let her pa.s.s them by.

Howbeit, that great peal was the opening blow Of a wild storm and terrible, That straightway upon Roquefort fell, The spire of Saint Pierre{8} lay in ruins low, And, smitten by the sharp scourge of the hail, In all the region round, men could but weep and wail.

The angel bands who walked that day In fair procession, hymns to sing, Turned sorrowing, all save one, away, Ora pro n.o.bis chaunting.

Yet, in those early times, though not as now, The angry waves to clear; To other jealous towns could Agen show Great bridges three, as she a royal city were;

Then she had only barges two, by poles propelled slow, That waited for the minstrels, to bear them to Roquefort, Whose villagers heard rumours of the widespread woe; Ere landing, they were ranged for singing on the sh.o.r.e.

At first the tale but half they heed, But soon they see in very deed, Vineyards and happy fields with hopeless ruin smit; Then each let fall his banner fair, And lamentations infinite Bent on all sides the evening air, Till o'er the swelling throng rose deadly clear the cry, "And still we spare this Franconnette!" Then suddenly, As match to powder laid, the words "Set her on fire! That daughter of the Huguenot, Let's burn her up, and let her ashes rot."

Then violent cries were heard.

Howls of "Ay! Ay! the wretch! Now let her meet her fate!

She is the cause of all, 'tis plain!

Once she has made us desolate, But she shall never curse again!"

And now the crowd grew angrier, wilder too.

"Hunt her off face of earth!" one shouts anew; "Hunt her to death! 'Tis meet," a thousand tongues repeat, The tempest in the skies cannot with this compete.

Oh, then, to see them as they came, With clenched fists and eyes aflame, h.e.l.l did indeed its demons all unchain.

And while the storm recedes, the night is growing clear, But poison shoots through every vein Of the possess'd madmen there.

Thus goaded they themselves to crime; but where was she, Unhappy Franconnette? To her own cottage driven-- Worshipping her one relic, sad and dreamily, And whispered to the withered flowers Pascal had loving given: "Dear nosegay, when I saw thee first, Methought thy sweetness was divine, And I did drink it, heart athirst; But now thou art not sweet as erst, Because those wicked thoughts of mine Have blighted all thy beauty rare; I'm sold to powers of ill, for Heav'n hath spurned my prayer; My love is deadly love! No hope on earth have I!

So, treasure of my heart, flowers of the meadow fair, Because I bless the hand that gathered thee, good-bye!

Pascal must not love such as I!

He must th' accursed maid forswear, Who yet to G.o.d for him doth cry!

In wanton merriment last year, Even at love laughed Franconnette; Now is my condemnation clear, Now whom I love, I must forget; Sold to the demon at my birth!

My G.o.d, how can it be? Have I not faith in Thee?

Oh! blessed blossoms of the earth; Let me drive with my cross the evil one from me!

And thou, my mother, in the star-lit skies above, And thou, my guardian, oh! mother of our G.o.d, Pity me: For I bless Pascal, but part from him I love!

Pity the maid accursed, by the rod Sore smitten, to the earth down-trod, Help me, thy Heart Divine to move!"

"Franconnette, little one, what means thy plaintive moan?"

So spake the h.o.a.ry dame. "Didst thou not smiling say Our Lady did receive thy offering to-day?

But sure, no happy heart should make so sad a groan.

Thou hast deceived me? Some new ill," she said, Hath fall'n upon us!" "Nay, not so; be comforted.

I--I'm quite happy!" "So my sweetest deary, G.o.d grant that some good respite we may have, For your sad sorrow diggeth up my grave; And this hath been a lonesome, fearsome day, and weary; That cruel dream of fire I had some time ago, Howe'er I strove, did always haunt me so!

And then, thou know'st the storm; oh, I was terrified, So that, to-night, my dear, I shudder in my fright!"

What sudden noise is this outside?

"Fire! Fire! Let's burn them in their cot!"

Flames shine through all the shutters wide, Then Franconnette springs to the doorway tremblingly, And, gracious Heaven! what doth she see?

By light of burning reek, An angry people huddled thick; She hears them shout, "Now, to your fate!

Spare ne'er the young one, nor the old, Both work us ruin manifold.

Sold to the demon, we must burn you straight!"

The girl fell on her knees, before the face Of that most furious populace.

She cried, "Grandmother will you kill? Oh, pity, grace!"

"Twas of no use, the wretches, blind with fury, In viewing her bareheaded, in their hurry, Saw but a cursed leman, Sold bodily to the demon.

The fiercest cried "Avaunt!"

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 n.o.ble, brave Pascal!

"Cowards!" he cried. "What? Will you murder women then, And burn their cot? Children of G.o.d! 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, G.o.d 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 h.e.l.l, 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."