The Iron Trevet or Jocelyn the Champion

ket. His shop, filled with rolls of cloth that were exposed on the shelves, communicated wi

in her younger days. Her face betokened kindness and was now pensive and grave. Denise was close to eighteen. Her cheerful face, habitually serene and candid, seemed this evening profoundly sad. The two women remained long in silence, each engaged in her work. By degrees, howev

not have you share a hope that I myself hardly retain. But, after all, although the continu

father in the uncertainty that hastened his death. If Jocelyn still lived he would have communicated with my uncle Marcel

ent to the battle of Poitiers, where he may have remained in the hands of the English

ear, good aunt, you brush aside your own sorrows to think of mine, and you seek to console me.... I am ashamed

ed Marguerite slightly embarrassed. "My life is

and your son Andre with a smile on your lips and a ser

mistaken,

netrate your feelings. It was the desire to say nothing that might wound your sec

effort she proceeded: "'Tis true; you did not deceive yourself. Yes, my life is now spent amid anxieties and alarms. I thank you for having drawn the secret from me. I shall now, at least, be able to weep before you without reserve, and give a loose to my heart. Having paid that tribute to feebleness, I shall be able all the better to ap

at this moment pity you, did the

er.... Tender indulgences ... sweet joys of the hearth, the happiness of the humblest ... since long I know you no more! The artisan, the merchant, their day's labors being done, at least enjoy in the bosom of the

Master Marcel, who can not take a step without

atred, and that of the

ant, entered the room and said to her mistress: "Madam, the wi

you tell her

, ma

nvious women.... Petronille Maillart is of the number.... Hide your tears, I pray you, to avoid her drawing wrongful conclusions

us of my uncle, the fr

eak man whom his

out running to arms, and of mas

s usually are the least firm.... But silence! Here is Petr

he darted an inquisitive glance at the wife of Marcel and at Denise, and undoubtedly observed the t

o your house at so late an hour; but I wi

s welcome, Dam

r niece are still red with tears. Just heaven! Do you entertain any fears for our excellent friend Marcel. Do t

on the score of my husband. It is true Denise and I feel sad. Shortly before you came in, we were speaki

l. A veritable Hercules ...

ch a misfortune has happened. But it is

the purpose of my visit, which, seeing the lateness of the hour, must seem strange to you. The

kful for you

y of good friends i

re precious than sincere friend

iced. I attended the ceremony; you see it on my clothes. In my quality of a councilman's wi

an only pity s

olt at the fate of

In his quality of the first magistrate of th

uppressed bitterness. "Yes, until his successor is elected. Any one

's wife, "was first to protest against the crime of the Regent's courtiers by solemnly attending the funeral of Perrin Macé..

Dressed in black from head to foot, I joined the funeral procession, moaning and weeping all the tears I had. I thought I

dge of his own

band, our excellent friend Marcel, was also concerned. I therefore fear that,

s it yo

have made haste to come to you after curfew if m

neral of Perrin Macé the solemn character that has been attached to it. He

envious woman, "seeing that in his quality of provost, Master Marcel has pr

nk," cried Marguerite. "I only meant t

est with her presence and her tears against the iniquity of the court. How, then, does it happen that the wife of the first magistrate remains at home? Can it be that Master Marcel takes the action of the Regent and court less to heart than he pr

gnation. "To dare accuse Master Marcel of treason because his wife

irl, fearing the conversation, puerile in appearance, would take

se in a bitter tone: "Listen, learn, my friend, that my

ed anxiously, "that was not Denise's m

ut nevertheless, dangerous rumors against Master Marcel's popularity. These rumors are at this very hour circulati

Petron

r house. I meant, like a friend, to point out to you the danger that Mast

one good for good's sake, without even expecting anything from the gratitude of men. He will remain indifferent to their ingratitude. If ever his services are not appreciated, he will take with him into his ret

whom she envied, lost all control of herself. "You err," she declared, "in these days, it does not depend upon a man like Master Marcel to quietly bury himself in a retreat. No! No! When on

as a traitor?" cried Marguerite with tears in her eyes. "Do they

eerfully announcing: "Marguerite! Denise! I have good news! Good news!" Dame Petronille