the troops from
Versailles.

Nearly all the National Guards hurried away. The sergeant who had
remained near the pastor said, "Get away, scurry, father! You will get
yourself killed, and that will not save your camp."

The other officers passed, commanded everything to be burned, and when
the sergeant resisted, compelled him to leave. For half an hour the
unhappy pastor remained alone, holding back the incendiaries, passing
from supplications to threats, and gaining time by every possible
artifice. The sergeant returned with tearful eyes, and showed the
dismayed pastor a written order to burn the house, sent by his chiefs.
Not yet discouraged, the pastor roused the compassion of the old
sergeant, and so moved him that the rebel cried, "Ah, well! so much
the worse! I'll disobey. No, I won't let your house be burned. They'll
shoot me. It's all the same. I deserve to be." Then raising his hand
toward the sky, where the stars shone like sparks through the veil of
wind-driven smoke, he cried "O my father, I believe in God! Fear
nothing; I will stay here. They shan't touch your house. I shall know
how to keep off plunderers!"

O strange deceiving people; ready for all crimes, ready for all good
actions, according to the voice which speaks to thee and the emotion
which carries thee away! This sergeant was indeed thy likeness, and
one need not despair of thee, although thou dishearten those who love
thee best!

The brandy at the wine merchants'; the ether at the druggists'; the
powder and shot forgotten in stations, or secreted in cellars, burst
with terrible explosions and scattered flaming coals. The pastor
looked at his house, still miraculously intact. He gave it a last
look, and departed sobbing. It was eleven o'clock. For three hours in
the midst of this furnace he had resisted the incendiaries. His
strength was exhausted. The faithful servant, who went back again and
again to rescue one thing more from the burning, dragged him away. In
the Rue des Saints-Peres they plunged into darkness, all the deeper
for the brazier of sparkling lights behind them. They groped their way
over the barricades through a shower of bullets. More than once they
fell down. Finally, safe and sound despite the dangers braved, they
reached the Rue de Seine, near the Rue de Bucy, where they found
refuge in a lodging-house.

Next day Pastor Rouville ran towards the Rue de Lille. His house was
standing intact. The old sergeant had kept his w