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deed was done than we were before?"
"This may be true, but the angered do not reason. Thou art not suspected,
Marguerite, except as having heard the truth from thy husband since the
deed has been committed, but thine own discernment will show that naught
is more probable than that a hot contention about the past may have led
Balthazar, who is accustomed to see blood, into the commission of this
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act?"
"Here is thy boasted justice! Thine own laws are brought in support of
thine own oppression. Didst thou know how much pains his father had in
teaching Balthazar to strike, how many long and anxious visits were paid
between his parent and mine in order to bring up the youth in the way of
his dreadful calling, thou wouldst not think him so apt! God unfitted him
for his office, as he has unfitted many of higher and different
pretensions for duties that have been cast upon them in virtue of their
birthrights. Had it been I, chatelain, thy suspicions would have a better
show of reason. I am formed with strong and quick feelings, and reason has
often proved too weak for passion, though the rebuke that has been daily
received throughout a life hath long since tamed all of pride that ever
dwelt in me."
"Thou hast a daughter present?"
Marguerite pointed to the group which held her child.
"The trial is severe," said the judge, who began to feel compunctions that
were rare to one of his habits, "but it is as necessary to your own future
peace, as it is to justice itself, that the truth should be known. I am
compelled to order thy daughter to advance to the body."
Marguerite received this unexpected command with cold womanly reserve. Too
much wounded to complain, but trembling for the conduct of her child, she
went to the cluster of females, pressed Christine to her heart, and led
her silently forward. She presented her to the chatelain, with a dignity
so calm and quiet, that the latter found it oppressive!
"This is Balthazar's child," she said. Then folding her arms, she retired
herself a step, an attentive observer of what passed.
The judge regarded the sweet pallid face of the trembling girl with an
interest he had seldom felt for any who had come before him in the
discharge of his unbending duties. He spoke to her kindly, and even
encouragingly, placing himself intentionally between her and the dead,
momentarily hiding the appalling spectacle from her view, that she might
have time to summon her courage. Marguerite blessed him in her heart for
this small grace, and was better satisfied.
"Thou wert betrothed to Jacques Colis?" demanded the chatelain, using a
gentleness of voice that was singularly in contrast with his former stern
interrogatories.
The utmost that Christine could reply was to bow her head.
"Thy nuptials were to take place at the late meeting of the Abbaye des
Vignerons--it is our unpleasant duty to wound where we could wish to
heal--but thy betrothed refused to redeem his pledge?"
"The heart is weak, and sometimes shrinks from its own good purposes,"
murmured Christine. "He was but human, and he could not withstand the
sneers of all about him."
The chatelain was so entranced by her gentle and sweet manner that he
leaned forward to listen, lest a syllable of what she whispered might
escape his ears.
"Thou acquittest, then, Jacques Colis of any false intention?"
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"He was less strong than he believed himself, mein Herr; he was not equal
to sharing our disgrace, which was put rudely and too strongly before
him."
"Thou hadst consented freely to the marriage thyself, and wert well
disposed to become his wife?"
The imploring look and heaving respiration of Christine were lost on the
blunted sensibilities of a criminal judge.
"Was the youth dear to thee?" he repeated, without perceiving the wound he
was inflicting on female reserve.
Christine shuddered. She was not accustomed to have affections which she
considered the most sacred of her short and innocent existence so rudely
probed; but, believing that the safety of her father depended on her
frankness and sincerity, by an effort that was nearly superhuman, she was
enabled to reply. The bright glow that suffused her face, however,
proclaimed the power of that sentiment which becomes instinctive to her
sex, arraying her features in the lustre of maiden shame.
"I was little used to hear words of praise, Herr Chatelain,--and they are
so soothing to the ears of the despised! I felt as a girl acknowledges the
preference of a youth who is not disagreeable to her. I thought he loved
me--and--what would you more, mein Herr?"
"None could hate thee, innocent and abused child!" murmured the Signor
Grimaldi.
"You forget that I am Balthazar's daughter, mein Herr; none of our race
are viewed with favor."
"Thou, at least, must be an exception!"
"Leaving this aside," continued the chatelain, "I would know if thy
parents showed resentment at the misconduct of thy betrothed; whether
aught was said in thy presence, that can throw light on this unhappy
affair?"
The officer of the Valais turned his head aside; for he met the surprised
and displeased glance of the Genoese, whose eye expressed a gentleman's
opinion at hearing a child thus questioned in a matter that so nearly
touched her father's life. But the look and the improper character of the
examination escaped the notice of Christine. She relied with filial
confidence on the innocence of the author of her being, and, so far from
being shocked, she rejoiced with the simplicity and confidence of the
undesigning at being permitted to say anything that might vindicate him in
the eyes of his judges.
"Herr Chatelain," she answered eagerly, the blood that had mounted to her
cheeks from female weakness, deepening to, and warming, her very temples
with a holier sentiment: "Herr Chatelain, we wept together when alone; we
prayed for our enemies as for ourselves, but naught was said to the
prejudice of poor Jacques--no, not a whisper."
"Wept and prayed!" repeated the judge, looking from the child to the
father, in the manner of a man that fancied he did not hear aright.
"I said both, mein Herr; if the former was a weakness, the latter was a
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duty."
"This is strange language in the mouth of a Leadsman's child!"
Christine appeared at a loss, for a moment, to comprehend his meaning;
but, passing a hand across her fair brow she continued:
"I think I understand what you would say, mein Herr," she said; "the world
believes us to be without feeling and without hope. We are what we seem in
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