The Pocket Bible; or, Christian the Printer: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century

"I tell you, mother, it is truly extraordinary!"

Several impatient raps, given at the street door interrupted the conversation. Bridget said to her daughter:

"Open the window, and see who it is that knocks. Probably it is your brother."

"Yes, mother; it is he; it is Hervé," said Hena, opening the window.

She descended to the floor below.

"My God!" thought Bridget to herself in no slight agitation. "How am I to interpret the confidence of Hena? Her soul is incapable of dissimulation. She has told me the whole truth, without being aware of the sentiments the young monk awakens in her. I can hardly wait to inform Christian of this strange discovery!"

The sound of Hervé's steps hurriedly ascending the stairs drew Bridget from her brown study. She saw her son rush in, followed by his sister. As he stepped into the room he cried with a troubled countenance:

"Oh, mother! mother!" and embracing her tenderly he added: "Oh, mother! What sad news I bring you!"

"Dear child, what is it?"

"Our poor Mary La Catelle – "

"What has happened to her?"

"This evening, as I was about to leave the printing shop, father asked me to accompany him part of the way. He was going to a friend's, with whom he was to take supper this evening. Father said: 'La Catelle's house is on our way, we shall drop in and inquire whether she is still suffering from her painful experience of the other evening' – "

"Yesterday morning," Bridget broke in, "after I took her home with your sister, we left Mary calm and at ease. She is a brave woman."

"Notwithstanding her firm nature and her self-control, she succumbed to the reaction of that night's excitement. Last night she was seized with a high fever. She was bled twice to-day. A minute ago we found her in a desperate state. A fatal end is apprehended."

"Poor Mary!" exclaimed Hena, clasping her hands in despair, and her eyes filling with tears. "What a misfortune! This news overwhelms me with sorrow!"

"Unhappily her sister-in-law left yesterday for Meaux with her husband," remarked Hervé. "La Catelle, at death's door, is left at this moment to the care of a servant."

"Hena, quick, my cloak!" said Bridget rising precipitately from her seat. "I can not leave that worthy friend to the care of mercenary hands. I shall run to her help."

"Good, dear mother, you but forestall father's wishes," observed Hervé, as his sister hurried to take Bridget's cloak out of a trunk. "Father told me to hurry and notify you of this misfortune. He said he knew how attached you were to our friend, and that you would wish to spend the night at her bed, and render her the care she stands in need of."

Wrapping herself in her cloak, Bridget was about to leave the house.

"Mother," said Hena, "will you not take me with you?"

"How can you think of such a thing, child, at this hour of night!"

"Sister, it is for me to escort mother," put in Hervé; and, with a tender voice, accompanied with the offer of his forehead for Bridget to kiss, the hypocrite added:

"Is it not the sweetest of my duties to watch over you, good mother?"

"Oh," said Bridget, moved, and kissing her son's forehead, "I recognize you again, my son!" With this passing allusion to the painful incidents of the last few days, which she had already forgiven, the unsuspecting mother proceeded: "A woman of my age runs no risk on the street, my son; besides, I do not wish your sister to remain alone in the house."

"I am not afraid, mother," Hena responded. "I shall bolt the door from within. I shall feel easier that way than to have you go out without company at this hour of night. Why, mother, remember what happened to La Catelle night before last! Let Hervé go with you."

"Mother," put in Hervé, "you hear what my dear sister says."

"Children, we are losing precious time. Let us not forget that, at this hour, our friend may be expiring in the hands of a stranger. Good-bye!"

"How unlucky that just to-day our uncle should have gone to St. Denis!" put in Hervé with a sigh. But seeming to be struck with an idea he added: "Mother, why could not both Hena and I accompany you?"

"Oh, darling brother, you deserve an embrace, twenty embraces, for that bright thought," said the young girl, throwing her arms around Hervé's neck. "It is agreed, mother, we shall all three go together."

"Impossible. The house can not be left alone, children. Who will open the door to your father when he comes home? Besides, did not Master Simon send us yesterday a little bag of pearls to embroider on the velvet gown for the Duchess of Etampes? The pearls are of considerable value. I would feel very uneasy if these valuable articles remained without anybody to watch them. Knowing you are here, Hervé, I shall feel easy on that score," remarked Bridget with a look of affectionate confidence that seemed to say to her son: "Yesterday you committed larceny; but you are now again an honorable boy; to-day I can entrust you with the guardianship of my treasure."

Hervé divined his mother's thoughts. He raised her hand to his lips and said:

"Your trust in me shall be justified."

"Still, this very evening, shortly before nightfall, we left the house all alone for a walk along the river," objected Hena. "Why should we run any greater risk now, if we go out all three of us?"

"Dear daughter, it was then still light; the shops of our neighbors were still open; burglars would not have dared to make a descent upon us at such a time. At this hour, on the contrary, all the shops being closed, and the streets almost deserted, thieves are in season."

"And it is just at such an hour that you are going to expose yourself, mother."

"I have nothing about me to tempt the cupidity of thieves. Good-bye! Good-bye, my children!" Bridget said hastily, and embracing Hena and her brother: "To-morrow morning, my dear girl, your father will take you to La Catelle's, where you will find me. We shall return home together. Hervé, light me downstairs."

Preceded by her son, who carried the lamp, Bridget quickly descended the stairs and left the house.

CHAPTER XII.

HERVE'S DEMENTIA

No sooner had Hervé closed the street door upon his mother than he slowly re-ascended the stairs to the upper chamber, saying to himself:

"It will take my mother an hour to reach La Catelle's house; at least as long to return; father will not be home until midnight; I have two full hours to myself. They shall be turned to profit."

Pressing with a convulsive hand against his heart the scapulary containing Tezel's letter of absolution, Hervé entered the room in which Hena was left alone.

From the threshold Hervé saw his sister on her knees. Astonished at her posture, he stepped towards her and asked:

"Hena, what are you doing?"

"I was praying to God that He may guard mother, and restore our friend to health," answered the young girl, rising; and she proceeded with a sigh: "My heart feels heavy. May no misfortune threaten us."

Saying this, the confiding girl sat down to her embroidery. Her brother took a seat beside her on a stool. After a few seconds he broke the silence:

"Hena, do you remember that about three months ago I suddenly changed towards you?"

Not a little surprised at these opening words, the young girl answered:

"Why recall those evil days, brother? Thank heaven, they are over; they will not return."

"Do you remember," Hervé proceeded without noticing his sister's words, "do you remember that, so far from returning, I repelled your caresses?"