n the children; and now, if you can
but master the pain enough to get there with such help as we can give
you, before the dragoons return, we shall all be safe."

"Oh, most certainly I will," said I, trying to rise; but when I
attempted to set my feet to the ground, I was in such anguish that
I nearly fell down; but what will not "needs must" effect? The poor
galley-slaves at Marseilles and Dunkirk can tell how, when it seems
impossible for them to pull another stroke, the taskmaster's whip,
mercilessly applied, proves that they not only can pull still, but pull
well too. I am ashamed to say how these two beloved women had almost to
carry me, a stout youth; and even all their strength might have been
insufficient but for the potent spur of the dragoons' return. With an
arm round the neck of each, and resting almost my entire weight on their
shoulders, I managed to scuffle along, very slowly and with fearful
pain, towards Les Arenes. We paused now and then, under the deep shadow
of a wall, for me to regain my strength. I was astonished at my mother's
utter forgetfulness of herself in her care for me; and said, "Were you
much burnt, my mother?"

"No, my son; no," she answered, cheerfully; but in truth she was sadly
seared and blistered, and her heroism under suffering might be likened
to that of the martyrs of old.

"What took place after I fainted?" said I.

"They believed you were dead, and threw you into the road," said my
mother, "saying they hoped the dogs would come and lick your blood like
Ahab's. After that a trumpet was blown, and there seemed something going
on in the town, and they all ran off. The children had meanwhile taken
refuge with Madeleine; and I then took the opportunity of raising your
father, after cutting his bonds, and sending him off to the factory,
whence he was to return with men to carry you away, but they have never
come, and I fear some mischief may have befallen him. I would fain have
gone to see, but you were my first object. I could not carry you, and
went to Madeleine for help. She had just gone with Gabrielle and the
children to Les Arenes; but while I was preparing bandages and a
liniment for your poor feet, she returned and accompanied me back."

"Madeleine is a good angel," said I, pressing my arm more closely to
her.

"What is your case to-day, may be ours to-morrow," said she.

We continued our painful and tedious course, "lurking in the thievish
corners of the streets," li