spirit within me,
commanding me to adopt you, because you would one day be the guardian
angel of the oppressed believers. Behold, Colas, the Lord has done
great things for you; you now stand again on the same spot of the poor
miller's house, and are a highly honoured, learned, and rich man.
Hesitate no longer to accept the offer of the mareschale. It is not
his will, no, it is the will of God; it is not his calling, but it is
the call of Heaven, which comes to you to afford comfort to the gospel
Christians."

My uncle and his amiable family (in whose circle one daughter was
missing, having been married), as well as his friends, who were all
secret Protestants, did not desist in their most urgent remonstrances
with me to accept the situation. I was obliged partly to promise that
I would accept it; but it was still important to consult Clementine and
her mother on the subject.

I had no sooner made the mareschale's proposal known to them, than both
were at once agreed that I must not let slip an opportunity which
promised me a larger sphere of activity.

"We will both accompany you to Nismes," said Clementine; "you will no
doubt remember the amphitheatre and the house of Albertas?--but to live
with the mareschale--no, that will not do, you must refuse that
politely."

And so it happened; we went together to Nismes, I entered on my
situation, and I was permitted to find recreation in Clementine's
society.

Wealth, authority, and influence over the affairs of the province,
prepared for me the happiest lot man could imagine. Friendship and
love completed my felicity; but in the picture of my life, at that
period, there was almost too much light, too little shade, and all
became a bright, rosy monotony.

The death of Clementine's grandfather occasioned a family mourning, and
our union was postponed, out of respect, for six months. But this
could not darken our happiness; we saw each other daily, and nothing in
the world could separate us.

During the first few months the Mareschale de Montreval treated me with
marked favour. Still I could not prevail upon myself to approach him
with confidence, or to return his kind sentiments with equal
cordiality. His affable demeanour had something terrible in it, and in
his smile there was always something threatening. He was a man of
genius and judgment, but yet beclouded by prejudices which were sacred
to him, and which were probably owing to his monkish education in h