"Right," said the quarryman; "run away, my buck!"
"But first, ask Mr.Curate if you are to go for a coach," said Ciboule, stopping the impatient messenger.
"True," added one of the bystanders; "we are here in a church, and Mr.
Curate has the command.He is at home."
"Yes, yes; go at once, my child," said Gabriel to the obliging young vagabond.
Whilst the latter was making his way through the crowd, a voice said:
"I've a little wicker-bottle of brandy; will that be of any use?"
"No doubt," answered Gabriel, hastily; "pray give it here.We can rub his temples with the spirit, and make him inhale a little."
"Pass the bottle," cried Ciboule; "but don't put your noses in it!" And, passed with caution from hand to hand, the flask reached Gabriel in safety.
Whilst waiting for the coming of the coach, Father d'Aigrigny had been seated on a chair.Whilst several good-natured people carefully supported the abbe, the missionary made him inhale a little brandy.In a few minutes, the spirit had a powerful influence on the Jesuit; he made some slight movements, and his oppressed bosom heaved with a deep sigh.
"He is saved--he will live," cried Gabriel, in a triumphant voice; "he will live, my brothers!"
"Oh! glad to hear it!" exclaimed many voices.
"Oh, yes! be glad, my brothers!" repeated Gabriel; "for, instead of being weighed down with the remorse of crime, you will have a just and charitable action to remember.Let us thank God, that he has changed your blind fury into a sentiment of compassion! Let us pray to Him, that neither you, nor those you love, may ever be exposed to such frightful danger as this unfortunate man has just escaped.Oh, my brothers!" added Gabriel, as he pointed to the image of Christ with touching emotion, which communicated itself the more easily to others from the expression of his angelic countenance; "oh, my brothers! let us never forget, that HE, who died upon that cross for the defence of the oppressed, for the obscure children of the people like to ourselves, pronounced those affectionate words so sweet to the heart; `Love ye one another!'--Let us never forget it; let us love and help one another, and we poor people shall then become better, happier, just.Love--yes, love ye one another-
-and fall prostrate before that Saviour, who is the God of all that are weak, oppressed, and suffering in this world!"
So saying, Gabriel knelt down.All present respectfully followed his example, such power was there in his simple and persuasive words.At this moment, a singular incident added to the grandeur of the scene.We have said that a few seconds before the quarryman and his band entered the body of the church, several persons had fled from it.Two of these had taken refuge in the organ-loft, from which retreat they had viewed the preceding scene, themselves remaining invisible.One of these persons was a young man charged with the care of the organ, and quite musician enough to play on it.Deeply moved by the unexpected turn of an event which at first appeared so tragical, and yielding to an artistical inspiration, this young man, at the moment when he saw the people kneeling with Gabriel, could not forbear striking the notes.Then a sort of harmonious sigh, at first almost insensible, seemed to rise from the midst of this immense cathedral, like a divine aspiration.As soft and aerial as the balmy vapor of incense, it mounted and spread through the lofty arches.Little by little the faint, sweet sounds, though still as it were covered, changed to an exquisite melody, religious, melancholy, and affectionate, which rose to heaven like a song of ineffable gratitude and love.And the notes were at first so faint, so covered, that the kneeling multitude had scarcely felt surprise, and had yielded insensibly to the irresistible influence of that enchanting harmony.
Then many an eye, until now dry and ferocious, became wet with tears--
many hard hearts beat gently, as they remembered the words pronounced by Gabriel with so tender an accent: "Love ye one another!" It was at this moment that Father d'Aigrigny came to himself--and opened his eyes.He thought himself under the influence of a dream.He had lost his senses in sight of a furious populace, who, with insult and blasphemy on their lips, pursued him with cries of death even to the sanctuary of the temple.He opened his eyes--and, by the pale light of the sacred lamps, to the solemn music of the organ, he saw that crowd, just now so menacing and implacable, kneeling in mute and reverential emotion, and humbly bowing their heads before the majesty of the shrine.
Some minutes after, Gabriel, carried almost in triumph on the shoulders of the crowd, entered the coach, in which Father d'Aigrigny, who by degrees had completely recovered his senses, was already reclining.By the order of the Jesuit, the coach stopped before the door of a house in the Rue de Vaugirard; he had the strength and courage to enter this dwelling alone; Gabriel was not admitted, but we shall conduct the reader thither.
