did not like, continually hung about us, and looked attentively at her, which I resented, but she was evidently pleased with. At length, some waxwork attracting our notice, a change took place in the disposition of our party. I shifted the charge of Gabrielle to her father, and got Madeleine instead. My memories of the rest of the day are more about Madeleine than anything else.

I remember, though, that we fell in with our neighbors the Lefevres at a waxwork stall, and while Madeleine and I were admiring some fruit that exactly imitated nature, little Jules Lefevre stretched out his hand to touch a little waxen boy with a lamb, saying, "Pretty, pretty!"

"Dear child, you shall have it!" cried a honeyed voice behind; and a lady nicely dressed put the image into his hand, and stooped down to kiss him. When Marie Lefevre turned round, and saw what her little boy held, she looked displeased, and made him lay it on the stall again, for it was one of those papistical images which we hold in detestation.

At night, when all had dispersed but our own immediate party, there was a pause, and I saw that the elders had something on their minds that they were about to unfold. I felt a strange emotion that presaged what was coming, for not a hint had been dropped.

"Son," said my father—and I looked towards him with awe—"you are now on the confines of manhood, and it behooves us to consider your future. At your time of life I was betrothed to your mother, and a share was promised me of my father's business. What are your own views respecting your course in life?"

All the elder people fixed their eyes on me with gravity, and Madeleine afterwards told me her heart stopped beating; while Gabrielle struggled with a disposition to laugh.

"My views are," returned I, boldly, "to follow my honored father, step by step, and, his concurrence obtained, to get betrothed as fast as I can."

"Well said, my boy," said my father, heartily, while every face wore a broad smile but one, which was mantling with blushes.

"Provided," continued I, "that I may choose the young lady."

"Let us know where your choice will fall," said my father, trying to keep the corners of his mouth in order, while M. Bourdinave scarcely suppressed a chuckle.

I stepped across the room, and took Madeleine's hand. "Here is my choice," said I, "if she will have me. We have known each other from childhood."

Madeleine instantly snatched her hand away, and covered her face. However, the next moment her father joined our hands, and gave us his blessing; and then we were bewildered with congratulations and good auguries; and Master Brignolles gave us a world of good advice, and offered a prayer; and my father gave me a ring of betrothal to put on her finger, and thus we became plighted to one another.

The rest of our stay at Beaucaire passed like a dream, and its brightness yet remained while we pursued our homeward journey. Madeleine sat close behind me this time, and on her knee was little Jules Lefevre, whom we had taken in charge of because his father's wagon was over-full. He had something clasped tight in his hand, which he unclosed for a moment at Madeleine's request, and gave her a glimpse of a little "Agnus Dei," which he said had been given him by "the pretty lady." How or when she had done so, we never made out. Madeleine tried to get it from him; but he resisted with all his might, saying it was "his own."

"It must be confessed," said Gabrielle, "that the Catholic churches have much more in them to attract the eye than our plain temples."

"Who denies it?" said I. "Their appeals are to the outward senses, which never influence the heart."

"I think my heart would be very much influenced by them," said Gabrielle, "if I had not been brought up to think them wrong."

"I cannot bear to hear you talk in that way, sister," said Madeleine. "Pray, do not seem indifferent to the blessings of a purer faith."

Gabrielle pouted, and said, "Indifferent? no; but perhaps if you and I had been brought up Catholics, we might have been as positive we held the purer faith as we are now that we are of the Reformed."

"A very good thing, then, that you were not so brought up," said I, "for then I should not have been betrothed to Madeleine;" and to prevent her pursuing so unpleasant a subject, I lifted up my voice and sang. Little Jules presently dropped asleep in Madeleine's arms, and his little fat fingers unclosing, the dangerous bauble dropped from them, and, by a dexterous touch of my whip, I flicked it into the road. By-and-by, awaking, he cried for it, and beat Madeleine with his tiny fists; nor was pacified till his attention was diverted by an almost interminable file of mules, with their five or six olive-faced muleteers in brown jackets and red sashes.

CHAPTER III.

LES ARÈNES.

When we got back, we found my uncle Chambrun, my mother's only brother, standing at the door. He was the minister of a small town near Avignon, and did not care to go to the Fair; nevertheless he was very glad to hear all about it from those who had been there. We were well pleased to have so ready a listener; and when we had said our say, he fell into grave talk with my father and mother of the signs of the times, which he thought very threatening.

"What can we expect otherwise," said he, "with Louis the Fourteenth for king and Louvois for his minister, and Père la Chaise for his confessor, and Madame de Maintenon for his confidante and adviser? A storm is gathering overhead, but never mind—there is a heaven higher than all." These words checked us; but youthful spirits soon rise, and the impression did not last long. I now seemed walking on air, for I loved and was loved by Madeleine.

A few days after our return from Beaucaire, Marie Lefevre burst in on us with troubled looks, and exclaimed,

"Have you seen my boy?"

"No!" exclaimed we all.

"Then something has befallen him," cried she, wringing her hands. "We have lost sight of him."

We gathered about her, full of pity, and asked where he had last been seen.

"Near Les Arènes."

"He may have fallen into some pit, or lost himself among the dungeons," said my mother. "We will go and help you to find him."

So she and I accompanied Marie, who was crying bitterly, and made frequent inquiries for him by the way.

When we got inside that vast, circular inclosure, we agreed that Marie should explore one side and we the other, and thus meet at the other end. This took us some time, for you must know that it consists of two stories, each of sixty arcades, seventy feet high; and under its great arches and pillars are many vaulted chambers and passages, wherein good Christians have been confined; and again, wherein other good Christians have found asylums in time of hot persecution. Within the amphitheatre were originally thirty-two rows of seats, which would accommodate at least twenty thousand spectators that had a mind to feast their eyes on scenes of blood in the central arena. I looked with curiosity at this place, which I had never so thoroughly visited before. Some of the dens were still in use for the bulls that were baited on Sundays, and others seemed lairs for rogues and vagabonds; but there was many a corner which, as I said to my mother, would afford a good hiding-place in time of danger, and one, especially, in which I thought a fugitive might defy detection (though I had detected it).

Well, we hunted high and low, but could not find little Jules. His mother was distracted: we feared she would lose her reason altogether. Madeleine devoted herself to her like an angel; neighbors were full of compassion—those of our own persuasion, I mean; for the Catholics mocked her and said, "Go seek him in the Jews' quarter. The Jew baker's daughter has, doubtless, made him into pies. Go seek him in their secret assemblies—in