KARVEL--"It is not you, blind and convinced fanatic, that I accuse. You said so, and you expressed your convictions. Yes, you consider yourself humane. Yes, if you slay children, it is in order to despatch them to Paradise! If you exterminate us mercilessly, it is because according to your convictions our belief d.a.m.ns the souls of men forever! But, good G.o.d, what a religion is that! It is a monstrous, a frightful prodigy! It so wholly dethrones man's reason and upsets his sense of right and wrong that you and your accomplices verily believe you are doing an act of piety when you carry ferocity beyond even the bounds of possibility!"

Having finished her orisons, Alyx of Montmorency rises. She overhears Karvel's last words, approaches the count and says to him in a tone of mingled terror and pain while pointing her trembling finger at the Perfect "Oh! How many souls may not that hardened sinner forever lead astray! Let him die!"

MONTFORT (meditatively)--"I was thinking of that--there is nothing to expect from him. (Deliberately to Karvel) Do you persist in your heresy?"

KARVEL--"Hear, Montfort: at Cha.s.seneuil, at Beziers, at Carca.s.sonne, at Termes, at Minerve, in all the places whither the Army of the Faith carried ravage and murder, women, maids and children who escaped the ma.s.sacre and were by you condemned to the pyre, threw themselves heroically into the flames rather than, even with their lips, accept that Roman Church, whose base name causes us disgust and horror. The 'heresy' has pa.s.sed into our blood; our children have taken it in with their mothers' milk. Not unless you exterminate them all will you have exterminated 'heresy' from this region. The more men, women and children you slay, the vaster the regions of our country that you depopulate and turn into deserts, all the more imperishable will be the monuments raised by yourself and that will teach the next generations to execrate your Church. The air that is breathed in this region has for centuries been so impregnated by the breath of freedom, that breath is so pure and penetrating, that neither the steam from the torrents of blood that you have shed, nor yet the smoke that has gone up from the pyres that you have lighted have been able to contaminate it. Here our ancestors have lived in freedom; here we shall know how to live in freedom or to die; and here our children will emulate us and remain, like ourselves, unshackled by the Church of Rome."

While the Perfect speaks these words Montfort and his wife exchange glances alternately expressive of indignation, horror and amazement. The wan eyes of Alyx of Montmorency fill with tears. She clasps her hands and addresses the count:

"Oh! My heart bleeds like the heart of the Holy Virgin! I take You for witness, Lord G.o.d, my divine master! Strengthened by faith against the trials that it has pleased You to afflict me with for my salvation, it is long since I have wept. No; I have seen my father die and my second son; I looked upon their corpses with a tranquil eye, seeing that it was You, Oh my G.o.d, who called them unto You. To-day, however, my tears flow when I think of the thousands of poor souls whom the abominable preachings of this monster of perdition may cause to burn everlastingly in h.e.l.l!"

MONTFORT (weeping like the countess, whom he closes in his arms)--"Console yourself, dear and saintly wife! Console yourself! We shall pray for the souls that this miscreant has d.a.m.ned. It has pleased the Lord to recall me to life this day. I shall prove my devout recognition by dedicating to pious works a part of the booty that we shall take at Lavaur. I shall establish ma.s.ses for the repose of the souls of the heretics of this city whom I shall exterminate."

The ingenious idea of ma.s.ses, especially consecrated to the repose of the souls of the heretics whom Montfort promises himself soon to put to the sword or to consign to the flames, seems to a.s.suage the countess's grief. Suddenly the din of a distant tumult breaks in upon the silence of Montfort's sick chamber. Trumpets are heard sounding from the direction of the camp. Montfort starts, half rises on his couch, listens and cries: "Alyx, it is the call to arms! The besieged must have made a sally! This way, my equerries!--My armor!--Let my horse be saddled."

Thus speaking, the count rises half naked on the couch, but enfeebled by the fever and the blood-letting, he is seized with a vertigo, his limbs tremble under him and he drops down on the bed. In dropping, the bandage of the arm unfastens, the recently lanced vein re-opens, and the blood streams out anew. Karvel hastens to the side of Montfort, who lies unconscious on the couch, and seeks to stop the flow of blood while one of the equerries breaks precipitately into the room crying:

"Seigneur!--Seigneur!--To arms!--The camp is broken into!"

ALYX OF MONTMORENCY--"What is the meaning of these trumpet blasts? Is there an engagement on?"

THE EQUERRY--"The Seigneurs of Lascy and Limoux were in the neighboring room awaiting the orders of seigneur the count, when a knight rode in in haste to notify them that a large heretic force was seeking to enter the Castle of Lavaur under the cover of night, in order to reinforce the garrison. Hugues of Lascy and Lambert of Limoux immediately rode off with the knight and ordered a call to arms."

KARVEL (attending to Montfort)--"Oh! Mylio's songs have not been vain.

They have redoubled the courage of the inhabitants of Languedoc!"

A SECOND EQUERRY (enters and says to the countess)--"A messenger has just arrived. He brings information that the heretics are fighting with desperate courage. Abbot Reynier requests monseigneur to mount his horse and ride forth. It will steel the courage of our troops."

ALYX OF MONTMORENCY (pointing to the count who still lies unconscious and is being attended to by the Perfect)--"Tell the messenger of our venerable Father, Abbot Reynier, that monseigneur lies unconscious on his couch, and is unable to take horse--Go! (The equerry hastens out.

Alyx raises her eyes heavenward and joins her hands.) May the Almighty watch over His elect!"

KARVEL (sadly)--"Oh! How many of our brothers will not lose their lives in the attack!"

THE SECOND EQUERRY (re-entering)--"A soldier has just alighted from his horse. He rode ahead of Abbot Reynier. It is said that, thanks to an intrepid sally of the besieged who came out to the help of the forces that sought to enter the castle, the pagans succeeded in making good their entry into Lavaur. Many of them, however, have been killed, wounded or taken prisoner. Lambert of Limoux and Hugues of Lascy are bringing the prisoners to camp. Abbot Reynier is with them."

KARVEL (with great anxiety)--"Good G.o.d! If Mylio and his friend the juggler should happen to be among the prisoners, it will be their sentence of death."

CHAPTER XII.

GOOSE-SKIN'S CONVERSION.

The fears of Karvel the Perfect are verified. Mylio is a prisoner of the Crusaders. He was captured at the moment when, leading a body of men from the fields, he attempted to force an entry into Lavaur in order to reinforce the garrison. Goose-Skin also is among the prisoners. Together with the trouvere, the juggler is taken into the large hall of the villa by Lambert of Limoux and Hugues of Lascy. Karvel has remained near Montfort. Mylio is wounded. A blood-stained handkerchief bandages his arm. Although unscathed, the juggler seems to be a prey to great apprehension. Informed upon the dangerous condition of the count, Abbot Reynier proceeds to the patient's chamber, while Hugues of Lascy and Lambert of Limoux, their visors down, converse in a low voice a few paces away from the trouvere and the juggler.

MYLIO (to his companion in a tone of sorrow)--"My poor Goose-Skin, you are now a prisoner--it is all my fault."

GOOSE-SKIN (peevishly)--"Yes; it is your fault. I was dead; quite dead; could you not leave my ashes in peace?"

MYLIO--"Just as, thanks to the sally of the brave men of Lavaur under Aimery, I was about to enter the town, I noticed that you were not near.

I felt uneasy about you. I stopped. By the light of the moon I saw you twenty paces behind lying on your face--"

GOOSE-SKIN--"Oxhorns! Had I lain down on my back I would have had my paunch trampled out of shape under the feet of the combatants."

MYLIO--"I ran back to you thinking you were wounded. Our companions entered the town in the interval, the gate closed behind them, and--here we are, prisoners."

GOOSE-SKIN--"What I blame you for is for having drawn upon me--good and peaceful corpse that I was--the attention of these scampish Crusaders. I heard one of them cry out: 'That mountain of meat is so enormous that I wager my pike could not transfix it. Just watch, my companions.'--"

MYLIO--"And no sooner had you heard the words than you turned so prodigious a somersault that I was as happy at your resurrection as amazed at your agility. It was a wonderful jump."

GOOSE-SKIN--"Oxhorns! A good deal less than was at stake would make one nimble. Did I not have my paunch to save?"

MYLIO--"And was it for that that you prudently simulated death during the attack?"

GOOSE-SKIN--"By the heavens! The moment that I heard those brutes of Crusaders cry: 'To arms!' I threw myself down flat, face down on the ground. And this is the way heroism is recompensed! I calculated that by bravely throwing myself as an unsurmountable obstacle between our companions and the enemy, I would cover their rear, and they would be able to enter the town in safety before the Crusaders had time to climb over my body."

MYLIO--"Your good spirits have come back. So much the better."

GOOSE-SKIN (nodding his head towards the two seigneurs, who now draw near after having raised their visors)--"Mylio, it seems to me we know these two men. May the devil take them to h.e.l.l!"

MYLIO (looking back)--"Hugues of Lascy? Lambert of Limoux? (addressing them in an ironical voice) All hail to the Bailiff of the Joy of Joys!

By the heavens! Here we have a bit of infamous hypocrisy! Is it you, holy men, who have come to extirpate heresy in Albigeois? (Turning to Goose-Skin) Do you remember that last pleading before the Court of Love?"

GOOSE-SKIN--"The court of ribaldry, of which these two bearers of the cross were worthy officers?"

HUGUES OF LASCY (to Lambert)--"Do you hear the vipers' language? Our capture is good. Since these two jugglers started over the country, the dogs of heretics have shown their teeth with greater madness! We shall know how to cure them of their madness!"

GOOSE-SKIN (plaintively)--"Poor folks! To have become so mad! Some monk must have bitten them, not true, Seigneur Bailiff of the Joy of Joys?"

At this moment Simon of Montfort enters clad in a long brown robe that resembles a monk's frock. On one side he leans upon the arm of his wife Alyx of Montmorency, on the other upon the arm of Abbot Reynier. One of the count's equerries hastens to bring a chair for his master, the other mounts guard at the door of the contiguous apartment where Karvel the Perfect is kept a prisoner. Montfort is silent. Abbot Reynier casts upon Mylio and Goose-Skin a look of triumph and inveterate hatred. The monk has not yet forgotten the night when the trouvere and the juggler carried away Florette from the mill of Chaillotte, and left him lying bruised and disappointed on the ground.

MONTFORT (addressing Mylio in a hollow voice)--"Were you among the heretics of whom a large number succeeded in forcing an entry into Lavaur?"

MYLIO--"Yes, Seigneur Count, I was among the combatants and fought my best."

MONTFORT--"Your name is Mylio the Trouvere. You plied at Blois your unworthy trade of perdition. You poured out the venom of your calumnies against the priests of the Church, the most sacred personages. I am thoroughly informed concerning you--"

MYLIO (interrupting the count and addressing the abbot)--"Oh, sycophant!

So you have taken early precautions to head off the narrative of your nocturnal adventure at the mill of Chaillotte!"

Alyx of Montmorency raises her hands and turns her eyes heavenward as if to take the heavens to witness. The count darts a furious look at Mylio.

GOOSE-SKIN (in a low voice to the trouvere)--"The looks of that specter chill me to the marrow of my bones. We are lost!"

MONTFORT (to Mylio, angrily)--"Hold your tongue, blasphemer! Heretic dog! If you do not, I shall have your tongue torn out!"

ABBOT REYNIER (to Montfort with unction)--"My dear brother, we should have contempt only for such insults. The wretch is possessed. Helas! He no longer belongs to himself. It is the demon that speaks through his mouth."