"Thou too shalt die," the captain said.

The boy stopped calmly there, And sweet and low the music played Amid the silenced air.

"Hold!" cried the boy; "a moment wait.

For, ere I meet my end, I would return this watch, that late I borrowed of my friend."

"Return a watch?" The captain frowned.

"Your meaning I discern; Such honest lads are seldom found: And when would _you_ return?"

"At once!" the hero makes reply; "As soon as e'er I can; I _will_ return, and I will die As n.o.bly as a man!"

"Well, go!" The lordly bugle blew, And said the man, with joy, "Right glad am I to lose him, too, I would not harm the boy."

Some moments pa.s.sed; the deadly rain Fell thickly through the air; The smoke arose, and, lo! again The boy stood calmly there.

The muskets ceased, the smoke-wreath pa.s.sed O'er sunlit dome and spire,-- "Here, captain, I have come at last, And I am ready. Fire!"

As marble grew the captain's cheek, He could not speak the word.

The shout of _Vive la Republique!_ Adown the ranks was heard.

The bugle blew a note of joy, "Advance!" the captain cried,-- They marched, and left the happy boy The colonnade beside.

We sing Vialla's sweet romance, Of Barra's death we read, But few among the boys of France E'er did a n.o.bler deed.

The palace burns, the columns fall, The works of art decay, But deeds like these the good recall When empires pa.s.s away.

CHAPTER XVI.

BRITTANY.

Avranches.--Riding on Diligences.--Mont St. Michel.--Chateaubriand.-- Madame de Sevigne.--Brittany.--Breton Stories.--Story of the Old Woman's Cow.--Story of the Wonderful Sack.--Nantes.--Scenes of the Revolution at Nantes.--Fenelon and Louis XV.

The Cla.s.s went by rail from Paris to the bright Norman district of Calvados, visiting Caen and Bayeux, whose attractions have been briefly sketched in the letter of George Howe to Master Lewis. The next journey was to Avranches, or the "Village of the Cliff," by the way of Falaise, the residence of Duke Robert, father of William the Conqueror, and to the quaint town of Vire, famous for its cleanly, industrious inhabitants its grand old hills buried in woods, its great wayside trees, and its ancient clock-tower.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CLOCK TOWER AT VIRE.]

The Cla.s.s met few people on this journey. The cantonniers were evidently busy with their own simple industries. Once or twice the boys saw gentlemen, whom Master Lewis said were cures, at work in cool, green gardens; and often they met the pretty sight of women and girls at work in the fields. The cottages were thatched, and some were moss-grown, and all the canton wore the appearance of simple contentment, virtue, and thrift.

Avranches is a favorite summer resort for English tourists, owing to the beauty of its situation, its health-giving air, and the ease and cheapness with which one may live.

The journey from Caen, along the bowery Norman highways, was made in diligences. The boys seemed to brim over with pleasure at the prospect of a ride in a diligence.

"There is one place where contentment and happiness may surely be found," said Tommy Toby, one day.

"Where?" asked Master Lewis.

"On the top of a diligence."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, sure."

The next day the Cla.s.s was overtaken, while travelling in the French coach, by a pouring rain. Tommy, as usual, was on the seat with the driver. He became very impatient, saying, every few minutes, "I wish it would stop raining, I wish--" this, that, and the other thing.

"Tommy," said Master Lewis, from within the coach, "are you _sure_?"

After a time the sunlight overspread the landscape, making the watery leaves shine like the mult.i.tudinous wavelets of the sea.

Tommy's merry voice was heard again, talking bad French.

"Contentment and happiness," said Master Lewis to Frank, "have evidently returned again."

From Avranches the Cla.s.s visited that wonderful castle, church, and village of the sea, Mont St. Michel.

The journey from the mainland was by a tramway across the Greve, or sands, at low tide. At neap tides the Mount is not surrounded by water at any time, but at spring tides it is washed by the sea twice a day, and sometimes seems like a partly sunken hill in the sea. The fortress is girt about the base with feudal walls and towers colored by the sea; above these rises a little town, the houses being set on broken ledges of rock; above the town stand the fortifications, and a church and its tower crown all. It is one of the most curious places in the world.

Pagan priests here worshipped the G.o.d of high places; monks succeeded them; Henry II held court here, then it became a place to which saints made yearly pilgrimages. The Revolution drove out the monks, and turned it into a prison. In an iron cage called the Cage of St.

Michel, a torturous contrivance, state prisoners used to be confined.

The Cla.s.s next went to St. Malo, by the way of Dol; a breezy journey, with the sea in view.

"St. Malo," said Master Lewis, "was the birthplace of Chateaubriand, who visited our country after the American Revolution, and in 1801 wrote an Indian romance, 'Atala,' a prose Hiawatha, if I may so call it, which charmed all Europe. He published a political work on America, which had great influence in France. He was in early life a sceptic, but the memory of a good mother made him a Christian, and he published a book on religion which arrested the infidel tendencies of the times. Louis XVIII. declared that one of his pamphlets was worth an army of one hundred thousand men. He was one of the most brilliant writers France ever produced. You should read on your return 'Atala'

in French. You will find an edition, I think, ill.u.s.trated by Dore, in which the pictures will compel you to read the story."

"I have read 'Atala,'" said Frank.

"Would you like to visit Chateaubriand's birthplace with me?" asked Master Lewis.

Frank was very desirous to see the place at once, and Master Lewis and he went to the house, now a hotel, immediately on their arrival in the town. From the windows of the house could be seen the tomb of Chateaubriand, which is on a little island in the harbor.

When Master Lewis returned to the hotel he was alone.

"Where is Frank?" asked Tommy.

"He is to spend the night in Chateaubriand's room," said Master Lewis.

"Visitors at St. Malo are allowed to sleep there on paying a small sum."

"Is Chateaubriand living yet?" asked Tommy. "I thought you said he came to our country after the Revolution."

"No, he died many years ago. Frank and I have just been looking from the windows of his birthplace at his tomb on one of the little islands."

"But Frank is not going to stay all night in the room of one that is dead! What good will that do?"

"It is the respect that appreciation pays to genius," said Master Lewis.