"What! Have they advanced beyond Nimes?" inquired Coursegol, appalled by this news.

"Some of them advanced last night as far as the Pont du Gard. There they sacked and burned the Chateau de Chamondrin!"

A ghastly pallor overspread Coursegol's features; he uttered a cry of horror.

"What is the matter?" asked the man who had just apprised him of this terrible calamity.

"My masters!--where are my masters?" cried poor Coursegol.

Then, without waiting for the response which no one could give, he darted off like a madman in the direction of the Pont du Gard.

Although the events that took place in Nimes early in 1790 have never been clearly explained by an impartial historian, we have reason to suppose that the public sentiment prevailing there at the time was unfavorable to the Revolution. The Catholics of the south became indignant when they learned that the a.s.sembly wished to reform the Catholic Church without consulting the Pope. From that day, they were the enemies of the Revolution. Their protests were energetic, and from protests they pa.s.sed to acts. The Catholics took up arms ostensibly to defend themselves against the Protestants, but chiefly to defend their menaced religion. The Protestants, who were in communication with their religious brethren in Paris and Montauban, were also ready to take the field at any moment. A regiment was quartered in the city. The sympathies of the officers were with the Catholics, who represented the aristocracy in their eyes; the soldiers seemed to favor the Protestants--the patriots. This division brought a new element of discord into the civil war. This condition of affairs lasted several months. A conflict between some of the National Guards--Catholics--and a company of dragoons was the signal for a struggle that had become inevitable. The Protestants of Nimes sided with the dragoons; the Catholics espoused the cause of the National Guards. Several of these last were killed. This happened on the 13th of June. The following day, bands of peasants, summoned to the aid of the Protestants from the country north of Nimes, descended upon the city. They entered it in an orderly manner, as if animated by peaceful intentions; but many of the men were either half-crazed fanatics or wretches who were actuated by a desire for plunder. They ran through the streets, becoming more and more excited until their fury suddenly burst forth and they rushed wildly about the city, carrying death and devastation in their track. There was a Capuchin monastery at Nimes. They invaded this first, slaying the priests at the foot of the altar in the church that still retains the ineffaceable stain of their blood. The a.s.sa.s.sins then hastened to the monastery of the Carmelites. The monks had fled. They sacked the church, and then plundered a number of private houses. The bandits showed no mercy. They opened a vigorous cannonade upon the tower of Froment where many had taken refuge. In three days three hundred persons perished.

At the news of these ma.s.sacres a cry of rage and terror rose from the Catholic villages on the banks of the Rhone and the Gardon. The cry was this:

"They are slaughtering our brothers at Nimes!"

The influential men immediately a.s.sembled and counselled the frightened and indignant populace to take up arms in their own defence. The tocsin was sounded, and in a few hours several hundred men had a.s.sembled near the Pont du Gard, ready to march upon Nimes and punish the wretches who had slain the innocent and defenceless. By unanimous consent the Marquis de Chamondrin was made one of the leaders of this hastily improvised army. He accepted the command with a few eloquent words, urging his men to do their duty, and the army took up its line of march. Some gypsies, who chanced to be near the Pont du Gard at the time, brought up the rear, hoping that the fortunes of war would gain them an entrance into the city of Nimes that they might pillage and steal without restraint.

This manifestation of wrath on the part of the inhabitants of the surrounding country terrified the a.s.sa.s.sins, and most of them took to flight; but those who lived in Nimes and who were alarmed for their own safety and that of their families resolved to avert the blow that menaced them.

There are traitors in every party, men ready to sell or to be sold; men for whom treason and infamy are pathways to wealth. There were some of these men in the Catholic ranks, and promises of gold induced them to go out and meet the approaching army and a.s.sure its leaders that order was re-established at Nimes and that their entrance into the city would only occasion a fresh outbreak. These emissaries accomplished their mission; and that same evening all these men who had left home that morning thirsting for vengeance returned quietly to their firesides.

But, unfortunately, the Marquis de Chamondrin had taken such an active part in this demonstration that he had deeply incensed the a.s.sa.s.sins; and the more ferocious of them resolved to wreak vengeance upon him by pillaging and burning his chateau. A conspiracy was organized, and the following night about forty men of both parties, or rather the sc.u.m and refuse of both, started for Chamondrin. They knew the castle had but a small number of defenders, and that Coursegol, the most formidable of these, was absent at the time. They also knew that the isolated situation of the chateau afforded its inmates little chance of succor, and that, if they could succeed in surprising it, they could accomplish their work of destruction before the inhabitants of Remoulins and the surrounding villages could come to the aid of the Marquis and his household. The plan was decided upon in a few hours; and the disorder that prevailed throughout the country, the inertness of the authorities and the want of harmony among the soldiery, all favored its execution.

About nine o'clock in the evening, the bandits stole quietly out of Nimes. They reached the Pont du Gard a little before midnight and halted there to receive their final instructions before ascending the hill upon the summit of which stood the Chateau de Chamondrin.

Here, they were joined by a dozen or more Bohemians who were encamped near by, the same men who had accompanied the Catholics on their expedition that same morning. They approached the bandits in the hope that a new army was in process of organization for an attack upon the city, and that they might accompany it. When they saw the band proceed in the direction of the chateau, they straggled along in the rear. Like hungry vultures, they seemed to scent a battle from which they might derive some profit.

The household at Chamondrin chanced to be astir late that evening. The Marquis, Philip, Antoinette, the cure of Remoulins and two or three landed proprietors living in the vicinity were in the drawing-room.

After such a day of excitement, no one could think of sleep. They were discussing the events that had occurred at Nimes, and deploring the death of the victims. They were anxiously asking if the blood that had been shed would be the last, and were endeavoring to find means to prevent the repet.i.tion of such a calamity. When the clock struck the hour of midnight, the cure of Remoulins, an energetic old man named Peretty, rose to return to the village. The other visitors, whose homes lay in the same direction and whose carriages were waiting in the court-yard, followed his example. Suddenly a frightened cry broke the silence of the night. Followed by the others present, Philip rushed to the door. The cry had come from the man who guarded the gate.

"We are attacked!" exclaimed this man on seeing Philip.

At a glance the latter understood the extent and the imminence of their danger. The bright moonlight revealed a terrible sight. The besiegers had found only one opening through which they could effect an entrance into the chateau; but even there a heavy gate composed of strong iron bars opposed their pa.s.sage. This gate was very high, and the bars were securely fastened to each other, while the top was surmounted by sharp pickets. Still, the bandits were not discouraged. Half-crazed with fury and with wine, they climbed this formidable barrier with the hope of leaping over it. It seemed to bend beneath their weight. The ma.s.sive bolts trembled, the ponderous hinges creaked, as fifty or more repulsive-looking wretches, the majority of them clad in rags, hurled themselves against the gate, uttering shrieks of baffled rage. One would have supposed them wild beasts trying to break from their cage.

"To arms!" cried Philip.

He ran to the lower hall, which was used as an armory. His father, the visitors and the servants, who were all devoted to the Chamondrin family, followed him, while Antoinette stood watching in alarm this formidable horde of invaders.

The Abbe Peretty advanced towards the intruders.

"What do you desire, my friends?" he asked, calmly.

"Open the gates!" responded the less excited among the crowd.

"We want Chamondrin's head!" exclaimed others.

"Have you any just cause of complaint against the Marquis?" persisted the abbe, striving to calm the furious throng.

"Death to the aristocrats!" the crowd responded with one voice.

One man went so far as to point his gun at the venerable priest, who, without once losing his sang-froid, recrossed the court-yard, keeping his face turned towards the excited band outside, and rejoined his companions, who under the leadership of the Marquis and Philip were just emerging from the hall, armed to the teeth.

"They will not listen to reason," said the Abbe Peretty, calmly!

"Then we will defend ourselves, and woe be unto them!"

As he uttered these words, the Marquis turned to Mademoiselle de Mirandol, around whom the women of the chateau were crowding, half-crazed with terror.

"Go into the house; your place is not here," said he.

"My place is by your side!" replied Antoinette.

"No, my dear Antoinette; it is madness to expose yourself unnecessarily.

I know you are courageous, but you can be of far greater service to us by quieting these poor, shrieking creatures."

While this conversation was going on, Philip advanced to the gate. It still resisted the efforts of the a.s.sailants, some of whom were endeavoring to climb over the roofs of the pavilions that stood on either side of the entrance to the chateau.

"I command you to retire!" cried Philip.

Angry threats of "Death" resounded afresh.

"Then I hold you responsible for any disasters that may occur!" Philip replied.

At the same moment the impetuous youth raised his gun and fired, wounding one of the men who had climbed the gate and was preparing to leap down into the court-yard. Imprecations broke forth anew and the combat began. Nothing could be heard but a vigorous fusillade, accompanied by the shouts of the besiegers and the besieged. These last were so few in number that they dare not dispatch one of their little company to Remoulins for aid. Besides, they were not sure that the band now a.s.sailing them would not be followed by others that would waylay their messenger; but they hoped that their shouts and the sound of the firing would arouse the inhabitants of the sleeping town. The Marquis fought with the desperation of a man who is defending his outraged fireside, and Philip struggled with the energy of despair. He was fighting for his father and for Antoinette. He shuddered when he thought of the horrible fate that awaited the young girl if these brutes, more formidable than any wild beasts, were victorious. Even the Abbe Peretty had armed himself. The servants and the friends of the house conducted themselves like heroes, but, unfortunately, Coursegol was far from Chamondrin, and the defenders of the chateau sadly missed his valiant arm.

The a.s.sailants were still crowding against the gate, uttering howls of fury. They were poorly armed. Only a few had guns, the others brandished hatchets and pickaxes, crying:

"Tear down the gate!"

But, when the firing began, they left this dangerous position and retired perhaps twenty feet, where they hid behind the trees, firing at random, sometimes trying to advance, but always driven back with loss.

Five or six of them were already stretched upon the gra.s.s, but the defenders of the castle were unhurt. The gypsies had retreated to a safe distance, where they stood impatiently awaiting the conclusion of the struggle, ready to fall upon the vanquished as soon as they became unable to defend themselves.

Meanwhile Antoinette, surrounded by four or five women, was upon her knees in the drawing-room, praying fervently, her heart sick with anguish and fear. How ardently she wished herself a man that she might fight by Philip's side! The firing suddenly ceased. Philip entered the room. His face was pale, but stained here and there by smoke and powder; his head was bare; his clothing disordered. Grief and despair were imprinted upon his countenance.

"We must fly!" he exclaimed.

And taking Antoinette by the hand he led her through the long corridor opening into the park. The frightened women followed them. In the park they met the defenders of the chateau, carrying a wounded man in their arms.

Antoinette uttered a cry of consternation.

"Ah! I would have fought until death!" exclaimed Philip, despairingly, "but we were overpowered; the gate was torn down; my father was wounded.

He must be saved from the hands of the bandits at any cost, so we were forced to retreat."

Antoinette walked on like one in a frightful dream. If Philip had not supported her she would have fallen again and again. They walked beside the Marquis, who was still conscious, though mortally wounded in the breast. When he saw his son and Antoinette beside him, he looked at them with sorrowful tenderness, and even attempted to smile as if to convince them that he was not suffering.

The little band proceeded with all possible speed to a small summer-house concealed in the pines and shrubbery. Nothing could be more mournful than this little procession of gloomy-visaged men and weeping women, fleeing through the darkness to escape the a.s.sa.s.sins who were now masters of the castle, destroying everything around them and making night hideous with their ferocious yells. At last they reached the summer-house. The Marquis was deposited upon a hastily improvised bed; the Abbe Peretty, a.s.sisted by Philip and Antoinette, attempted to dress his wound; and two men started in the hope of reaching Remoulins by a circuitous route, in order to bring a physician and call upon the inhabitants of the village for aid.