tered the village fresh from the destruction of a neighbouring
castle. The nun and Victoire listened; but in the midst of the horrid
yells of joy no human voice, no intelligible word could be distinguished;
they looked through a chink in the window-shutter and they saw the street
below filled with a crowd of men, whose countenances were by turns
illuminated by the glare of the torches which they brandished.

"Good Heavens!" whispered the nun to Victoire: "I should know the face of
that man who is loading his musket--the very man whom I nursed ten years
ago when he was ill with a gaol fever!"

This man, who stood in the midst of the crowd, taller by the head than
the others, seemed to be the leader of the party; they were disputing
whether they should proceed further, spend the remainder of the night in
the village ale-house, or return to Paris. Their leader ordered spirits
to be distributed to his associates, and exhorted them in a loud voice to
proceed in their glorious work. Tossing his firebrand over his head he
declared that he would never return to Paris till he had razed to the
ground the Chateau de Fleury. At these words, Victoire, forgetful of all
personal danger, ran out into the midst of the mob, pressed her way up to
the leader of these ruffians, caught him by the arm, exclaiming, "You
will not touch a stone in the Chateau de Fleury--I have my reasons--I say
you will not suffer a stone in the Chateau de Fleury to be touched."

"And why not?" cried the man, turning astonished; "and who are you that I
should listen to you?"

"No matter who I am," said Victoire; "follow me and I will show you one
to whom you will not refuse to listen. Here!--here she is," continued
Victoire, pointing to the nun, who had followed her in amazement; "here
is one to whom you will listen--yes, look at her well: hold the light to
her face."

The nun, in a supplicating attitude, stood in speechless expectation.

"Ay, I see you have gratitude, I know you will have mercy," cried
Victoire, watching the workings in the countenance of the man; "you will
save the Chateau de Fleury for her sake--who saved your life."

"I will," cried this astonished chief of a mob, fired with sudden
generosity. "By my faith you are a brave girl, and a fine girl, and know
how to speak to the heart, and in the right moment. Friends, citizens,
this nun, though she is a nun, is good for something. When I lay ill
with a fever, and not a soul else to