mentine once more being thus disappointed, I
walked sadly home. All the joyful expectations which had supported me
for the last six months were frustrated. I determined to go to
Marseilles, which was only three days' journey, there to search every
street and window, attend every church and mass, to discover her, if
only for a moment;--would she not, for so much trouble, give me one
kind look?

But, on cooler reflection, I soon abandoned my wild scheme, and
returned home more dejected than ever.

With surprise, I there perceived an unusual embarrassment and trouble
in every countenance.

My aunt came towards me, put her hands on my shoulders, and kissed me
with an air of deep melancholy; my cousins kindly seized my hand, as if
wishing to comfort me.

"What is it, after all?" asked my uncle, with a powerful voice; who,
notwithstanding his air of piety, had something heroic in his
character; "you know that a good Christian is most cheerful when the
waves of misfortune are lashed most tempestuously. The devil has no
power over us, and providence has numbered every hair of our heads.
The mareschale is not beyond the power of the Almighty."

I expressed my surprise at this. "You are right, Colas," said my
uncle, "and I am grieved at the despair of the women. The Mareschale
de Montreval sent orders here an hour ago for you to go to the castle
to-morrow morning, at ten o'clock;--that is all. And where then is
there cause for alarm? If you have a good conscience, go to him
without fear, though his castle be hell itself."

No wonder that the peremptory order, coming from so exalted a
personage, terrified the humble miller's family. The mareschale seldom
showed himself to the people, and then only when attended by a numerous
suite of high officers, noblemen, and guards. The external pomp of the
great, exercises greater awe on the minds of the uneducated multitude
than their power.

Next morning, my aunt arranged my wardrobe with trembling hands, and I
endeavoured to comfort my dear afflicted relatives. "It is ten
o'clock," cried my uncle, "go in God's name, we will pray for you."

I went, and learned that the mareschale was still in his cabinet.
After an hour and a half I was conducted through a suite of rooms to
him. An elderly gentleman, rather thin, and of a stiff commanding
manner, of dark complexion and piercing eyes, stepped towards me, while
the respect of those around marked him as the mareschale.

"