At length she found he was not dead.  Her heart leaped for joy.  But when she found how the case stood with him, she was ready to wish him dead and numbered among the little children that follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth.  Jules had been kidnapped and tampered with by the Catholics.  The little apostate had been taught to curse his parents.

The case occasioned a great deal of talk in Nismes at the time; unhappily, similar kidnappings made it soon forgotten, except by the family.

One day, when I had been hunting for him, I came suddenly on the young man who had stared so rudely at Gabrielle at Beaucaire.  I was sorry to see him in Nismes.  I did not like the look of him, with his narrow head, low forehead, and eyes too near his nose, though otherwise he was well enough.  Returning to our factory, I found him just coming out of it.  I said to my father, “Who is that?” He said, “A troublesome fellow, I think, but he brought a message from your uncle Nicolas.  He is called Martin Prunevaux.  He asked me all manner of impertinent questions, and, if he fall in with you, may ask you as many; but remember Jaques Coeur’s motto,

  “’En close bouche
  N’entre mouche—­’

“And again, ‘Dire, faire, taire.’”

“Ay, ay, father, you may depend on me,” said I, heartily.

Sometimes, before I went to bed, I stepped out to get a glimpse of the light in Madeleine’s window.  I should observe, it was also Gabrielle’s, for the sisters shared the same room.  The moon cast strong lights and shadows, and I kept in the shade till close to the house, when what was my disgust to hear the wretched tinkle of a guitar under the window!  Serenades might be all very well for Italy, but we did not favor them in Nismes; and stepping briskly up to the musician, I said abruptly, “We want none of this miserable noise!”

He started as if shot, saying, “Pardon, monsieur,” evidently taking me for one of the family; a mistake which I favored by knocking at the door.  As I was in deep shadow he did not recognize me, but the moonlight fell full on his face, and I saw it was Martin Prunevaux.  I felt exceedingly inclined to fall on him and beat him for daring to tune his wretched pipes under Madeleine’s window; but a second thought assured me that Gabrielle must be his object; the more so that I was sure I saw her shadow (which was shorter than her sister’s) fall on the curtain, and I could even fancy her making merry behind it.  Still, I liked not such a fellow to come prowling about either of the sisters.  I stood my ground, that I might not be guilty of a runaway knock, and when Alice came to the door I made a bungling speech and said, “Oh, I suppose the family are all gone to bed.  I am late tonight.”  She said, “They are so, sir,” and looked surprised.  I said, “There was a street musician of some sort before the house when I came up.  I think I have chased him away.”  She said, “All the better, sir; we are much obliged to you; we never encourage such people.”