ed by the Abbe Chaila who resided in the Chateau Pont
Mont-de-Verd. Parents, husbands and betrothed mourned for those that
had been carried off. It would have been sinful to place my light under
a bushel. I summoned together a little community of zealous souls in
the forest, there they witnessed my inspiration, and their courage was
raised. It was in the middle of summer, and I prophesied to them that
they should release the prisoners. The following night we assembled
together, and Pervier, a young man, whose bride was languishing in the
prisons, undertook the command. They advanced in front of the dwelling;
the Abbe's servants fired from the windows and killed three of our
friends. We now ceased to sing psalms, and stormed the castle with
trees and firebrands. The gates gave way, we entered, and encountered
the Abbe in his chamber. He suffered his dungeon to be opened, we then
assured him that he should receive no injury. The prisoners came forth;
weeping, joy, sobbing, and singing filled the house. Then they shewed
their wounds, the marks of the torture, dimmed eyes and sunken cheeks.
A shout for murder resounded around. But Pervier and I appeased the
maddened people by word and deed. The Abbe heard the noise, was
terrified at our movements, and to save himself, he sprang from a high
window into the road, and lay dashed to pieces on the ground. His
attendants and many of us ran up to him. 'The Lord has judged him for
his cruelties,' exclaimed several voices; they lay down by his side to
look into his dying eyes. Many, in spite of their emotion, could not
conceal their malicious joy, and thus in reality, our first act was the
beginning of the war, a story, which, in order to defame us, they have
entirely altered."

"It is believed," said Edmond, "that you criminally and wantonly
murdered him."

"Had it depended upon the will of one that was among us," continued
Mazel, "that, and much more would have happened. A stout, fierce man
was of our party, who very unwillingly submitted to the commands of the
moderate Pervier; you know him by his fame, Esprit Seguier. In him
already burned the fire, which now shines forth in Catinat and Ravanel,
and even then many were of opinion, that this was the true religion,
and that the zeal of Elias and not the gentleness of St. John should
save us. We all retired quietly, cheerfully, and happily. Not one of us
had been discovered. Then Seguier assembled a troop as fierce as
himself, an