help the people of the Cevennes!" muttered Louis, as he looked with
mingled respect and loathing at the emaciated face and fiery eyes of the
fanatic. "Very well, abbe," he added aloud; "you shall go to the
Cevennes."

Perhaps for an instant there came upon the stern priest some premonition
of that dreadful morning when, as he crouched in a corner of 'his
burning home, fifty daggers were to rasp against each other in his body.
He sunk his face in his hands, and a shudder passed over his gaunt
frame. Then he rose, and folding his arms, he resumed his impassive
attitude. Louis took up the pen from the table, and drew the paper
towards him.

"I have the same counsel, then, from all of you," said he,--"from you,
bishop; from you, father; from you, madame; from you, abbe; and from
you, Louvois. Well, if ill come from it, may it not be visited upon me!
But what is this?"

De Catinat had taken a step forward with his hand outstretched.
His ardent, impetuous nature had suddenly broken down all the barriers
of caution, and he seemed for the instant to see that countless throng
of men, women, and children of his own faith, all unable to say a word
for themselves, and all looking to him as their champion and spokesman.
He had thought little of such matters when all was well, but now, when
danger threatened, the deeper side of his nature was moved, and he felt
how light a thing is life and fortune when weighed against a great
abiding cause and principle.

"Do not sign it, sire," he cried. "You will live to wish that your hand
had withered ere it grasped that pen. I know it, sire. I am sure of
it. Consider all these helpless folk--the little children, the young
girls, the old and the feeble. Their creed is themselves. As well ask
the leaves to change the twigs on which they grow. They could not
change. At most you could but hope to turn them from honest folk into
hypocrites. And why should you do it? They honour you. They love you.
They harm none. They are proud to serve in your armies, to fight for
you, to work for you, to build up the greatness of your kingdom.
I implore you, sire, to think again before you sign an order which will
bring misery and desolation to so many."

For a moment the king had hesitated as he listened to the short abrupt
sentences in which the soldier pleaded for his fellows, but his face
hardened again as he remembered how even his own personal entreaty had
been unable to prevail with t