The Fairchild Family Page 16

  The History of Little Henri; or, The Good Son

  Henri stood at the window]

  "Every person who lives in England has heard of France. A small arm ofthe sea parts this country from France; but though a person may passfrom England to France in a few hours, yet there is a great differencein the manners and customs of the French and English. A few years agothe French were governed by a king who had so much power, that, if hedid not like any person, he could condemn him to be shut up for life athis pleasure, and nobody dared to inquire after him. The religion ofthe French was, and still is, Roman Catholic.

  "About one hundred and fifty years ago, there lived in France a certaingreat man, called the Baron of Bellemont: he was a proud man, and veryrich; and his castle stood in one of the beautiful valleys of thePyrenees, not far from the dwelling-places of those holy people theWaldenses."

  "What are Waldenses, mamma?" said Henry.

  "Why, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "many hundred years ago, whenmany of the nations of Europe were very wicked, a certain set ofpersons retired from the sight of the rest of mankind, and hidthemselves in valleys amongst hills, where they led innocent and holylives. These people, in some places, were called _Waldenses_; inothers, _Valdenses_; and some were called _The poor Men of Lyons_,because there was a city called Lyons near their dwelling-places."

  * * * * *

  "The Baron de Bellemont," continued Henry, reading again, "lived in acastle not far from the valley of the Waldenses. He had one daughter,of the name of Adelaide, who was very beautiful; and as she was to havemuch of her father's riches at his death, everybody flattered andseemed to admire her, and many rich and great men in France sought tomarry her. The Baron had also a poor niece living with him, namedMaria. Maria was not handsome, and she was poor; therefore, nobody whocame to the castle took any notice of her: and her cousin Adelaidetreated her more like a servant than a relation. Maria had been nursedamong the Waldenses, and had learned, with God's blessing, all the holydoctrines of these people from her nurse.

  "When Adelaide and Maria were about twenty years of age, they were bothmarried. Adelaide was married to the young Marquis de Roseville, one ofthe handsomest and richest men in France, and went to live in Pariswith her husband, where she was introduced to the court of the king,and lived amongst the greatest and gayest people in France."

  * * * * *

  "Where is Paris, mamma?" said Lucy.

  "You know, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "that London is thechief town of England, and the residence of the Queen: in like manner,Paris is the chief town of France, and the Emperor of France's palaceis in Paris."

  * * * * *

  "Maria's husband," continued Henry, "was one of the pastors of theWaldenses, of the name of Claude: he lived in a small and neat cottagein a beautiful valley; he was a holy young man, and all his time andthoughts were given up to teaching his people and serving his God.Maria was much happier in her little cottage with her kind husband thanshe had been in the castle of the Baron. She kept her house clean, andassisted her husband in dressing their little garden and taking care ofa few goats, which afforded them abundance of milk.

  "When the Marchioness of Roseville had been married twelve months shebrought the Marquis a son, to whom his parents gave the name ofTheodore. This child was so beautiful that he was spoken of in Paris asa wonder, and his parents, who were very proud and vain before, becamemore and more so. All the Marchioness's love seemed to be fixed uponthis child, so that when, at the end of two years more, she had asecond son born, she showed no affection whatever for him, although hewas a lovely infant, not less beautiful than his brother, and of atender and delicate constitution.

  "When this little infant, who was called Henri, was little more thantwo months old, the Marquis and Marchioness undertook a journey to theCastle of Bellemont, to visit the old Baron, bringing their two sonswith them. The fatigue of the journey was almost too much for poorlittle Henri, who, when he arrived at his grandfather's castle, was soill that it was supposed he could not live; but his mother, having nolove but for the eldest child, did not appear to be in the leasttroubled by Henri's sickness.

  "As soon as Maria heard of her cousin's arrival at Bellemont shehastened over to see her, though she did not expect to be very kindlyreceived. Maria, by this time, had two children, the youngest of whichwas more than a year old, and a very healthy child. When this kindwoman saw poor little Henri, and found that his parents did not lovehim, she begged her cousin to allow her to take the poor infant to hercottage in the valleys, where she promised to take great care of him,and to be as a tender mother to him. The Marchioness was glad to befreed from the charge of the sick child, and Maria was equally glad tohave the poor baby to comfort. Accordingly, she took the little Henrihome with her, and he was brought up amongst her own children.

  "When the Marquis and Marchioness had remained a while at the Castle ofBellemont, they returned with their favourite Theodore to Paris; andthere they delivered themselves up to all the vicious habits of thatdissipated place. The Marchioness never stayed at home a single day,but spent her whole time in visiting, dancing, and playing at cards,and going to public gardens, plays, and musical entertainments. Shepainted her face, and dressed herself in every kind of rich and vainornament, and tried to set herself off for admiration; but she hadlittle regard for her husband, and never thought of God. She was boldin her manners, fond of herself, and hardhearted to everybody else. Theonly person for whom she seemed to care was her son Theodore; for asfor little Henri, she seemed to have forgotten that she had such achild; but she delighted in seeing her handsome Theodore well dressed,and encouraged him to prattle before company, and to show himself offin public places, even when he was but an infant. She employed themost famous artists in Paris to draw his picture; she hireddancing-masters to teach him to carry himself well, and music-mastersto teach him to sing and play; and sometimes, when he was to go outwith her, she herself arranged his glossy hair, in order that he mightlook the handsomer. She employed many servants to attend upon him, andcommanded them never to contradict him, but to do everything to pleasehim. As she continued to lead this life she became every year more andmore bold, and more hardened in wickedness; so that, from beginning tobe careless about God, she proceeded in time to mock at religion. Norwas the Marquis any better than his wife; he was proud and quarrelsome,and loved no one but himself. He spent all his time amongst a set ofwicked young men of his own rank; they sat up all night drinking andswearing and playing at cards for large sums of money.

  "In this manner they went on till Theodore was as much as fifteen yearsof age. In the meantime the old Baron had died and left all his moneyto his daughter; but the Marquis and Marchioness were none the betterfor all the riches left them by the Baron, for they became more andmore wasteful, and more and more wicked.

  "About this time the King, who was a very wicked man, began to talk ofdriving the Waldenses out of their pleasant valleys, or forcing them tobecome Roman Catholics. He consulted the great men in Paris about it;and they gave it as their opinion that it would be right either to makethem become Roman Catholics, or drive them out of the country. TheMarquis, among the rest, gave his opinion against the Waldenses; neverconsidering that he had a relation amongst them, and that his littleson Henri was at that very time living with them.

  "Whilst these things were being talked of in the King's palace,Theodore was seized with a violent fever, and before anything could bedone for him, or his father or mother had any time for consideration,the poor boy died. The Marchioness was like a distracted woman whenTheodore died; she screamed and tore her hair, and the Marquis, todrive away the thoughts of his grief, went more and more into company,drinking and playing at cards. When the grief of the Marquis andMarchioness for the loss of their beautiful Theodore was a littleabated, they began to turn their thoughts towards their son Henri, andthey resolved to send for him. Accordingly, the Ma
rquis sent a trustyservant to the valley of Piedmont, to bring Henri to Paris. The servantcarried a letter from the Marquis to the Pastor Claude, thanking himfor his kind attention to the child, and requesting him to send himimmediately to Paris. The servant also carried a handsome sum of moneyas a present from the Marquis to Claude; which Claude, however, wouldnot take.

  "Whilst all these things of which I have been telling you werehappening at Paris, little Henri had been growing up in the humble yetpleasant cottage of Maria and the pious Claude. During the first yearsof his infancy he had been very delicate and tender, and no one wouldhave reared him who had not loved him as tenderly as Maria had done;but from the time that she first saw him in the Castle of Bellemont,she had loved him with all the love of the tenderest mother.

  "Henri was very beautiful, though always pale, never having very stronghealth. He always had the greatest fear of doing anything which mightdisplease God; he was gentle and humble to all around him, and to hislittle cousins, the sons of Claude, he was most affectionate and mild.When they were old enough, these three little boys used to go with thePastor Claude when he went to visit his poor people in their littlecottages among the valleys; and heard him read and pray with them. Thusthey acquired, when very young, such a knowledge of God, and of theHoly Bible, as might have put to shame many older people.

  "Many of the cottages which Claude and his little boys used to visitwere placed in spots of ground so beautiful that they would havereminded you of the Garden of Eden; some in deep and shady valleys,where the brooks of clear water ran murmuring among groves of trees andover mossy banks; some on high lawns on the sides of the mountains,where the eagles and mountain birds found shelter in the lofty foresttrees; some of these cottages stood on the brows of rugged rocks, whichjutted out from the side of the hills, on spots so steep and high thatClaude's own little stout boys could scarcely climb them; and Claudewas often obliged to carry little Henri up these steeps in his arms. Inthese different situations were flowers of various colours and ofvarious kinds, and many beautiful trees, besides birds innumerable andwild animals of various sorts. Claude knew the names and natures of allthese; and he often passed the time, as he walked, in teaching thesethings to his children. Neither did he neglect, as they got older, togive them such instructions as they could get from books. He taught hislittle boys first to read French, and afterwards he made them wellacquainted with Latin and the history of ancient times, particularlythe history of such holy people as have lived and died in the serviceof God--the saints and martyrs of old days. He also taught his littleboys to write; and they could sing sweetly many of the old hymns andpsalms which from time immemorial had been practised among theWaldenses.

  "Claude's own little sons were obliged to do many homely householdjobs, to help their mother. They used to fetch the goats to the cottagedoor, along the hill-side path, and milk them and feed them; they usedto weed the garden, and often to sweep the house and make up the fire.In all these things little Henri was as forward as the rest, though theson of one of the greatest men in France. But though this family wereobliged to labour at the lowest work, yet they practised towards eachother the most courteous and gentle manners.

  "In this manner Henri was brought up amongst the Waldenses till he wasmore than twelve years of age, at which time the servant came from hisfather, the Marquis, to bring him to Paris.

  "When the Marquis's letter arrived, all the little family in the PastorClaude's house were full of grief.

  "'You must go, my dear child,' said the Pastor; 'you must go, mybeloved Henri, for the Marquis is your father, and you must obey him;but oh! my heart aches when I think of the hard trials and temptationsto which you will be exposed in the wicked world.'

  "'Yet I have confidence,' said Maria, wiping away her tears; 'I haveprayed for this boy--this my dear boy; I have prayed for him a thousandand a thousand times; and I know that he is given to us: this our childwill not be lost; I know he will not. He will be able to do all thingswell, Christ strengthening him.'

  "'Oh, Maria!' said the Pastor Claude, 'your faith puts me to shame; whyshould I doubt the goodness of God any more than you do?'

  "In the meantime Henri's grief was so great that, for some hours afterthe servant came, he could not speak. He looked on his dear father andmother, as he always called Claude and Maria, and on their two boys,who were like brothers to him; he looked on the cottage where he hadspent so many happy days, and the woods and valleys and mountains,saying, beyond this he knew nothing; and he wished that he had beenborn Claude and Maria's child, and that he might be allowed to spendall his life, as Claude had done, in that delightful valley.

  "Whilst Maria, with many tears, was preparing things for Henri'sjourney, the Pastor took the opportunity of talking privately to him,and giving him some advice which he hoped might be useful to him. Hetook the child by the hand, and leading him into a solitary path abovethe cottage, where they could walk unseen and unheard, he explained tohim the dangerous situation into which he was about to enter; he toldhim, with as much tenderness as possible, what his father's and hismother's characters were; that they never knew the fear of God, andthat they acted as most persons do who are rich and powerful, and whoare not led by Divine grace; and he pointed out to him how he ought tobehave to his parents, telling him that he must not be led away, butmust persevere in well-doing. These, with many other things, the goodClaude besought Henri always to have in remembrance, as he hoped to seehis Redeemer in the land which is very far off; and he ended by givinghim a little Bible, in a small velvet bag, which he had received fromhis own father, and which he had been accustomed to carry in his pocketin all his visits to his poor people. In these days, Bibles are socommon that every little boy and girl may have one; but this was notthe case in former days; Bibles were very scarce and very difficult toget; and this Henri knew, and therefore he knew how to value thispresent.

  "It would only trouble you were I to describe the sorrow of Claude'sfamily when, the next morning, Henri, according to his father's orders,was dressed in a rich suit of clothes, and set upon a horse, which wasto carry him from among the mountains to the Castle of Bellemont, wherethe Marquis's carriage waited for him. Henri could not speak as thehorses went down the valley, but the tears fell fast down his cheeks;every tree and every cottage which he passed, every pathway windingfrom the highroad among the hills, reminded him of some sweet walktaken with Claude and his sons, or with his dear foster-mother. As theroad passed under one of the cottages which stood on the brow of ahill, Henri heard the notes of one of those sweet hymns which Maria hadbeen accustomed to sing to him when he was a very little boy, and whichshe had afterwards taught him to sing himself. Henri's heart at thatmoment was ready to burst with grief, and though the servant was closeto him, yet he broke out in these words:

  "'Farewell, farewell, sweet and happy home! Farewell, lovely, lovelyhills! Farewell, beloved friends! I shall never, never see you again!'

  "'Do not give way to grief, sir,' said the servant; 'you are going tobe a great man; you will see all the fine things in Paris, and bebrought before the King.'

  "The servant then gave him a long account of the grandeur and pleasuresof Paris; but Henri did not hear one word he said, for he was listeningto the last faint sounds of the hymn, as they became more and moredistant.

  "Nothing particular happened to Henri on his journey; and at the end ofseveral days he arrived at the gates of his father's grand house atParis. The Marchioness that evening (as was common with her) gave aball and supper to a number of friends; and on this occasion the housewas lighted up, and set off with all manner of ornaments. The companywas just come, and the music beginning to play, when Henri was broughtinto the hall. As soon as it was known who was come, the servants ranto tell the Marquis and Marchioness, and they ran into the hall toreceive their son. The beauty of Henri, and his lovely mild look, couldnot but please and delight his parents, and they said to each other, asthey kissed him and embraced him:

  "'How could we live so long a
stranger to this charming child?'

  "His mother had expected that her son would have had an awkward and lowappearance; she was, therefore, greatly surprised at his courteous andpolite manners, which delighted her as much as his beauty.

  "All that evening Henri remained silent, modest, and serious, and assoon as his parents would give him leave, he asked to go to bed. He wasshown into a room richly furnished, and so large that the whole ofClaude's little cottage would have gone into it. The servant whoattended him would have undressed him; but he begged to be left alone,saying he had been used to dress and undress himself. As soon as theservant was gone, he took out his Bible and read a chapter; afterwhich, kneeling down, he prayed his Almighty Father to take care of himnow, in this time of temptation, when he feared he might be drawn asideto forget his God.

  "The young son of the Marquis de Roseville did not awake early, havingbeen much tired with his journey. When he had dressed, he was taken tobreakfast in his mother's dressing-room; she was alone, as the Marquishad gone out after the ball the night before, and was not returned. TheMarchioness kissed Henri, and made him sit down by her, showing himevery proof of her love; nevertheless, everything he saw and heard madehim wish himself back again in the cottage amongst the hills. He couldperceive by the daylight what he had not found out the night before,that his mother was painted white and red, and that she had a bold andfretful look, which made her large dark eyes quite terrible to him.

  "Whilst the Marchioness and Henri sat at breakfast, she asked him agreat many questions about his education and manner of life among themountains. He did not hide anything from her, but told her that henever intended to become a Roman Catholic. She answered that there wastime enough yet before he need trouble himself about religion.

  "'You have a long life before you, Henri,' she said, 'and have manypleasures to enjoy; it will be well enough to become devout when youare near death.'

  "'May not death be near now?' said Henri, looking very serious. 'Had mybrother Theodore any greater reason to expect death than I have? Andyet he was suddenly called away.'

  "The Marchioness looked grave for a moment; then smiled, and said:

  "'Oh Henri, Henri, how laughable it is to hear one at your age speakingso seriously! Yet everything sounds prettily out of your mouth,' sheadded, kissing him, 'for you are a charming boy. But come,' she said,'I will be dressed; and we will go out and pay visits, and I will showyou something of this fine city.'

  "When the Marchioness was dressed, she and Henri went out in thecarriage; and, returning at dinner-time, they found the Marquis athome: he looked pale and fatigued, but was pleased to embrace his son,with whom he seemed better and better satisfied as he saw more of him.

  "The next day a tutor was appointed for Henri: he was a Roman Catholicpriest; but although he bore the character of a clergyman, he seemed tohave no thought of religion; he took great pains to teach Henri suchthings as he thought would please his father and mother, and make himappear clever before his fellow-creatures, but he had no desire to makehim a good man. Besides this tutor, Henri had masters to teach himmusic and dancing and drawing, and all such things as were wont to betaught to the children of the great men at that time in France. ThusHenri's mornings were employed by attending on his masters; and hismother often in the evening took him out to pay visits, and to ballsand public amusements. He was introduced several times to the King, andbecame acquainted with all the nobility in Paris. But, amongst allthese worldly pleasures and enjoyments, God still held the heart ofHenri; so that he took no delight in all these fine things, and wouldhave preferred Claude's cottage to all the splendours of Paris.

  "When Henri had been in Paris about six months, it happened that oneday his father went to the King's palace to pay his court: so it was,that something had vexed the King that day, and he did not receive theMarquis so cordially as he had been used to do. This affronted theMarquis so much (for he was a very proud man) that from that time hegave himself up altogether to abusing the King, and contriving how todo him mischief; and he invited to his house all the people ofconsequence in Paris who were discontented with the King: so that hishouse was filled with bad people, who were always contriving mischiefagainst the King. These people used to meet almost every evening to supat the Marquis's; and you would be shocked if I were to repeat to youthe language which they used, and how they used to rail against theirKing. On these occasions they drank abundance of wine; after which theyused to play at cards for large sums of money; and the Marquis andMarchioness not being so clever in play as some others of the party,lost a great deal of money; so that what with their extravagance, andwhat with the money they lost at cards, they had almost wasted all theypossessed, and were in debt to everybody who supplied them withanything.

  "Poor Henri, although so young, understood very well the wicked way inwhich his father and mother went on; and though he did not dare tospeak to his father about the manner of life he led, yet he spokeseveral times to his mother. Sometimes the Marchioness would laugh atHenri when he talked to her in this way; and sometimes she would bequite angry, and tell him that he was meddling with things he could notunderstand.

  "Abusing the King, and forming schemes against the Government, arecalled treason. It was not long before the treasonable practices of theMarquis, and the bad company he kept, were made known to the King, who,one night, without giving notice to anyone, sent certain persons with aguard to seize the Marquis, and convey him to a strong castle in a verydistant part of France, where he was to be confined for life; at thesame time the King gave orders to seize all the Marquis's property forhis own use. It was one night in the spring, just after the Marquis'swicked companions had taken their leave, that the persons sent by theKing rushed into the Marquis's house, and making him a prisoner in thename of the King, forced him into a carriage, with his wife and son,scarcely giving them time to gather together a little linen, and a fewother necessary things, to take with them: amongst these, Henri did notforget his little Bible, and an old Book of Martyrs, which he hadbought at a bookstall a few days before.

  "The Marquis and his family, well guarded, were hurried away so fastthat before the dawn of morning they were some miles from Paris. TheMarquis then asked the person who rode by the carriage where they weretaking him: they answered that his plots against the King had beenfound out, and that he was going to be put into a place where it wouldbe out of his power to execute any of his mischievous purposes. Onhearing this, the Marquis broke out into a violent rage, abusing theKing, and calling him every vile name he could think of; after which hebecame sullen, and continued so to the end of his journey. TheMarchioness cried almost without ceasing, calling herself the mostmiserable of women, and wishing she had never seen the Marquis.

  "At the end of several days, towards the evening, they entered into adeep road between two high hills, which were so near each other thatfrom one hill the cottages and little gardens and sheepfolds, with thecows and sheep feeding, might be plainly seen on the other. As theywent on farther, they saw a little village on the right hand among sometrees; and, above the village, a large old castle, with high walls andtowers, and an immense gateway with an iron gate.

  "When the Marquis saw the castle he groaned, for he supposed that thiswas the place in which he was to be confined; and the Marchioness brokeout afresh in crying and lamenting herself; but Henri said not oneword. The carriage took the road straight to the castle, and the guardkept close, as if they were afraid the Marquis should strive to getaway. They passed through the little village, and then saw the greatgate of the castle right before them higher up the hill. It was almostdusk before the carriage stopped at the castle gate; and the guardscalled to the porter (that is, the man who has the care of the gate) toopen the gate, and call the Governor of the castle. When the porteropened the gate, the guard took the Marquis out of the carriage, and,all gathering close round him, led him through the gates into theouter court of the castle, which was surrounded by dark high buildings;Henri and his mother following. Fro
m thence he went through anothergate, and up a number of stone steps, till they came to an immensehall, so big that it looked like a large old church; from the roof ofthis hall hung several lamps, which were burning, for it was now quitedark. There the Governor of the castle, a respectable-looking oldofficer, with a band of soldiers, met the Marquis, and received himinto his charge. He spoke civilly to the Marquis, and kindly to Henriand his mother.

  "'Do not afflict yourself, madam,' he said: 'I am the King's servant,and must obey the King's orders; but if I find that you and the Marquisare patient under your punishment, I shall make you as comfortable asmy duty to the King will allow.'

  "To this kind speech the Marchioness only answered by breaking out likea child, crying afresh; and the Marquis was so sullen that he would notspeak at all; but Henri, running up and kissing the hand of the oldgentleman, said:

  "'Oh, sir, God will reward you for your kindness to my poor father andmother: you must pardon them if they are not able to speak.'

  "'You are a fine boy,' said the old gentleman; 'and it is a pity thatat your age you should share your parents' punishment, and be shut upin this place.'

  "'Where my father and mother are,' answered Henri, 'I shall be bestcontented, sir; I do not wish to be parted from them.'

  "The Governor looked pleased with Henri; and giving his orders to hissoldiers, they took up a lamp, and led the poor Marquis to the roomwhere he was to be shut up for the remainder of his life. They led himthrough many large rooms, and up several flights of stone steps, tillthey came to the door of a gallery, at which a sentinel stood; thesentinel opened the door, and the Marquis was led along the gallery toa second door, which was barred with iron bars. Whilst the soldierswere unbarring this door, the Marquis groaned, and wished he had neverbeen born; and the poor Marchioness was obliged to lean upon Henri, orshe would have fallen to the ground. When the iron-barred door wasopened, the guard told the Marquis and his family to walk forward: 'Forthis,' said they, 'is your room.' Accordingly, the Marquis and his wifeand Henri went on into the room, whilst the guard shut and barred thedoor behind them. One little lamp, hanging from the top of the room,but high above their reach (for the rooms in those old castles are ingeneral very lofty), was all the light they had: by this light theycould just distinguish a large grated window, a fireplace, a table,some chairs, and two beds placed in different corners of the room.However, the unhappy family offered not to go near the beds; but theMarquis and Marchioness, throwing themselves on the ground, began torail at each other and at the King. Poor Henri endeavoured to sootheand comfort them; but they pushed him from them, like people in afrenzy, saying, 'Go, go! Would to God you were in your grave with yourbrother Theodore!' Henri withdrew to a distance, and, kneeling down ina dark part of the room, he began to pray; till, being quite weary, hefell fast asleep on the floor.

  "When Henri awoke, he was surprised to find it was daylight; he sat upand looked around him on the prison-room; it was a large and airy room,receiving light from a window strongly grated with iron. In two cornersof the room were two old-fashioned but clean and comfortable-lookingbeds; opposite the beds were a chimney-piece and hearth for burningwood; and several old-fashioned chairs and a table stood against thewall; there were also in the room two doors, which led into smallclosets.

  "Henri's poor father and mother had fallen asleep on the floor, afterhaving wearied themselves with their violent grief; the Marquis hadmade a pillow of his cloak, and the Marchioness of a small bundle whichshe had brought in her hand out of the carriage. Henri looked at themtill his eyes were full of tears; they looked pale and sorrowful evenin their sleep. He got up gently, for fear of disturbing his poorparents, and went to the window: the air from the opposite hill blewsweet and fresh in at the casement; it reminded Henri of the air whichhe used to breathe in Claude's cottage. The window was exceedingly highfrom the court of the castle; so that the little village below, and theopposite green hill, with its cottages and flocks and herds, were allto be seen from thence above the walls of the court.

  "'What reason have we to be thankful!' said Henri; 'I was afraid mypoor father might have been shut down in a dismal vault, without lightand fresh air. If the Governor of the castle will but allow us to stayhere, and give us only bread and water, we may be happy; and I have mylittle Bible, and my Book of Martyrs.'

  "Whilst Henri stood at the window, he heard someone unbar the door; andan old man came in with a basket, in which was a comfortable breakfast.

  "'I have orders,' said he, 'from my lord the Governor, to give youeverything which is convenient.'

  "'God bless your lord,' said Henri; and he begged the old man to returnhis thanks to him.

  "'I shall come again presently,' said the old man, 'and bring you thethings which you brought with you in the carriage.'

  "'Your lord the Governor is a kind man,' said Henri.

  "'Yes,' said the old man, 'and if your noble father will but makehimself contented, and not try to get away, he will have nothing tocomplain of here, and you would do well to tell him so. My younggentleman, excuse an old man for giving his advice.'

  "Henri went up to the old man, and, taking his hand, thanked him forhis kindness.

  "When the old man was gone, Henri, full of joy and thankfulness, beganto take the things out of the basket, and to set them in order upon thetable; and now Henri found the use of having been brought up to waitupon himself and upon others; he soon set out the little table in theneatest way, and set a chair for each of his parents; and all this soquietly that the poor Marquis and Marchioness did not wake till he haddone. The Marchioness first opened her eyes, and looked round her.Henri ran to her, and kissing her, said:

  "'Dear mother, see what comforts we have still got! We are fallen intogood hands; look around on this room, how light, how airy, and howpleasant it is!'

  "Henri then told her all the kindness of the Governor, and showed herthe breakfast prepared for them; but she still looked sullen andunthankful, and began to blame the Marquis, as he lay asleep, as thecause of all her affliction.

  "'Oh, mother, dear mother!' cried Henri. 'Look at my poor father; howpale he looks, and how he sighs in his sleep! You once loved him, dearmother; oh now, love him again, and comfort him in his trouble!'

  "In this manner Henri talked to his mother, till she broke out intotears, and putting her arms round his neck:

  "'My child, my Henri,' she said, 'you are too good for me!'

  "Yet still Henri could not persuade her to take any breakfast; sheplaced herself in a chair in a corner of the room, and, leaning herhead upon her hands, continued crying without ceasing.

  "When the Marquis awoke, Henri endeavoured to comfort him, as he haddone his mother; the Marquis embraced him, and called him his belovedchild and only comfort, but he complained that he was ill, and put hishand to his head. Henri brought him a cup of coffee, which he made himdrink; and the old man coming in with the linen and other things whichhad been brought from Paris, they put some clean linen on the Marquis,and the old man and Henri assisted him to bed. The Marquis continued toget worse, and before night he was in a violent fever. This fevercontinued many days, and brought him very near to death. Whilst thisillness lasted Henri never left him, and the Governor of the castle notonly provided him with everything he wanted, but brought a doctor fromthe village to see him.

  "For many days the poor Marquis did not seem to know anything thatpassed, or to know where he was, or who was with him, but seemed ingreat horror of mind, expressing great dread of death; but when hisfever left him, though he was very weak, he recovered his recollection,and expressed himself very thankful for the kindness he had received,particularly from the Governor and the doctor. As to Henri, he kissedhim often, called him his darling son, and could not bear him to leavehim for a moment. It was lovely to see how Henri watched by his poorfather, and how he talked to him, sometimes soothing and comforting,and sometimes giving him descriptions of the happy manner in which heused to live in Claude's cottage.

  "'And a
ll this happiness, dear father,' he would say, 'came from ourbeing religious; for all the ways of religion are ways of pleasantness,and all her paths are peace.'

  "'Claude and Maria,' said the Marquis one day to Henri, 'were very goodpeople; they always led innocent lives; they had no sins to troubletheir consciences, therefore they were happy; but I have many evilactions to remember, Henri.'

  "'Oh, dear father,' said Henri, 'do let me read the Bible to you. Ihave got a little Bible, and I will, if you please, read a little toyou every day, as you can bear it.'

  "The Marquis did not refuse to hear Henri read; accordingly, every dayhis good son used to read certain portions of Scripture to his father.The Marquis, having nothing else to take his attention--no cards, nowine, no gay companions--and being still confined by weakness to hisbed, often lay for many hours listening to the Word of God. At first,as he afterwards owned, he had no pleasure in it, and would rather haveavoided hearing it; but how could he refuse his darling son, when hebegged him to hear a little--only a little more?

  "In the meantime, the Marchioness appeared sullen, proud, andunforgiving: she seldom came near her husband, but sometimes spent theday in crying and lamenting herself, and sometimes in looking over thefew things which she had brought with her from Paris. The Governor ofthe castle, seeing her so miserable, told her that he had no ordersfrom the King to keep her or her son in confinement, and that she hadliberty to depart when she pleased, and to take her son with her; butHenri would not hear of leaving his poor father, and used all hisendeavours to persuade his mother to stay.

  "When the Marquis was first able to leave his bed, and sit in his chairopposite the window, Henri was very happy: he brought him clean linen,and helped him to dress; and when he had led him to his chair, he set atable before him, and arranged upon it, as neatly as he could, thelittle dinner which the old man had brought in the basket, with abottle of weak but pleasant wine which the Governor had sent him.

  "'Dear father,' said Henri, 'you begin to look well; you look evenbetter than you did when you were at Paris. Oh! if you could but learnto love God, you might now be happier than ever you were in all yourlife; and we might all be happy if my poor mother would but come to youand love you as she used to do. Oh! come, dear mother,' added Henri,going up to her and taking her hand; 'come to my father, come to mypoor father! You loved him once, love him again.'

  "In this manner Henri begged and entreated his mother to be reconciledto his father. The Marchioness at first seemed obstinate; but at lastshe was overcome, and running to her husband, put her arms round hisneck, and kissed him affectionately; whilst he, embracing her, calledher his beloved wife, his own Adelaide. This little family then satdown to their dinner, enjoying the lovely prospect, and the soft anddelightful breezes from the opposite hill; and after they had dined,Henri sang to his parents some of the sweet hymns he had learnt whenliving in the valleys of Piedmont.

  "Henri had done a great work; he had made peace between his father andhis mother; and now he saw, with great delight, his poor father gainingstrength daily; and though sometimes full of sorrow, yet upon thewhole composed, and never breaking out in impatient words.

  "About this time the Governor of the castle invited Henri to dine withhim. Henri was much pleased with the Governor, who received him kindly,and took him to walk with him in the village.

  "'I am glad to hear,' said the Governor, 'that your father is morecontented than he was at first; and you may tell him from me, that ifhe will endeavour to make himself easy, and not attempt to escape, Iwill always do everything in my power to make him comfortable; and now,if you can tell me what I can send him which you think will please himor your mother, if in my power you shall have it.'

  "'Oh, sir!' said Henri, 'God has certainly put it into your heart to bekind to my dear father.'

  "Henri then mentioned that he had heard his father say that in hisyounger days he had been very fond of drawing; and he begged of theGovernor a small box of colours, and some paper; and also needles andthread and linen for his mother. With what joy did Henri run back tohis father and mother, in the evening, with these things! They receivedhim as if he had been a long while absent from them, instead of only afew hours.

  "What Henri had brought afforded great amusement to the poor Marquisand Marchioness; the Marquis passing his time in drawing, and theMarchioness with her needlework, whilst Henri continually read andtalked to them, giving them accounts of the holy and happy lives whichthe Waldenses led, and the sweet lessons which Claude used to give tohis children.

  "In this manner the summer passed away, and the winter came. TheGovernor then, finding that the Marquis was content, and made noattempt to escape, allowed the prisoners abundance of wood for fire,and candles, with every convenience which could make the winter passaway pleasantly; and he often came himself and passed an evening withthem, ordering his supper into the room. The Governor was an agreeableman, and had travelled into many countries, which he used to describeto Henri. When he paid his evening visit it was a day of festivity tothe Marquis and his little family; and when he did not come, theirevenings passed pleasantly, whilst Henri read the Bible aloud and theMarchioness sewed. In the meantime the work of grace seemed to advancein the heart of the Marquis, and he who but a year ago was proud,insolent, self-indulgent, boasting, blasphemous, was now humble,gentle, polite, in honour preferring all men. His behaviour to theMarchioness was quite changed: he was tender and affectionate towardsher, bearing with patience many of her little fretful ways.

  "In this manner the winter passed away, and the spring arrived, atwhich time the Governor gave the Marquis permission, attended by aguard, to walk with his family every day upon the roof of the castle.There the Marquis enjoyed the fresh air and the beautiful prospect, andhe said that all the pleasures of Paris were not to be compared to hishappiness on such occasions.

  "At the end of the fourth year of the Marquis's confinement thesmall-pox broke out in the village, and the infection was brought tothe castle. The Marquis and Henri were both seized by the dreadfuldisease, and both died in consequence. After their deaths, the poorMarchioness, hearing that the Waldenses had been driven from theirhappy valleys by the King, removed into a small house in the villagenear, where the Governor supported and protected her till her dyingday."