Berenger shook his head.  ‘She was indeed there,’ he said, with an irrepressible groan.  ‘Was there no mercy—­none?’

‘Ask not, sir,’ said the compassionate priest; ’the flesh shrinks, though there may be righteous justice.  A pillaged town, when men are enraged, is like a place of devils unchained.  I reached it only after it had been taken by assault, when all was flame and blood.  Ask me no more; it would be worse for you to hear than me to tell,’ he concluded, shuddering, but laying his hand kindly on Berenger’s arm.  ’At least it is ended now and God is more merciful than men.  Many died by the bombs cast into to city, and she for whom you ask certainly fell not alive into the hands of those who sought her.  Take comfort, sir; there is One who watches and takes count of our griefs.  Sir, turning to Philip, ’this gentleman is too much spent with sorrow to bear this cold and damp.  Aid me, I entreat, to persuade him to lie down.’

Philip understood the priest’s French far better than that of the peasants, and added persuasions that Berenger was far too much exhausted and stunned to resist.  To spend a night in a Popish priest’s house would once have seemed to Philip a shocking alternative, yet here he was, heartily assisting in removing the wet garments in which his brother had sat only too long, and was heartily relieved to lay him down in the priest’s own bed, even though there was an image over the head, which, indeed, the boy never saw.  He only saw his brother turn away from the light with a low, heavy moan, as if he would fain be left alone with his sorrow and his crushed hopes.

Nothing could be kinder than Dome Colombeau, the priest of Nissard.  He saw to the whole of his guests being put into some sort of dry habiliments before they sat round his table to eat of the savoury mess in the great pot-au-feu, which had, since their arrival, received additional ingredients, and moreover sundry villagers had crept into the house.  Whenever the good Father supped at home, any of his flock were welcome to drop in to enjoy his hospitability.  After a cup of hot cider round, they carried off the fisherman to ledge in one of their cottages.  Shake-downs were found for the others, and Philip, wondering what was to become of the good host himself, gathered that he meant to spend such part of the night on the kitchen floor as he did not pass in prayer in the church for the poor young gentleman, who was in such affliction.  Philip was not certain whether to resent this as an impertinence or an attack on their Protestant principles; but he was not sure, either, that the priest was aware what was their religion, and was still less certain of his own comprehension of these pious intentions:  he decided that, any way, it was better not to make a fool of himself.  Still, the notion of the mischievousness of priests was so rooted in his head, that he consulted Humfrey on the expedience of keeping watch all night, but was sagaciously answered that ’these French rogues don’t do any hurt unless they be brought up to it, and the place was as safe as old Hurst.’