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The dark cloud and shadow of Satan that overshadowed him was also upon her. "Mazurier is coming in the morning to take me with him, Jacqueline," said Victor. "We are to make a journey." "What is it, Victor?" she asked, quietly. There was nothing left for her but patience, that she clearly saw, nothing but patience, and quiet enduring of the will of God.
Now that his follower was in the same position, he had but one wish, that he should follow his example. He did not, perhaps, entirely ascertain his motive in this; but it is hardly to be supposed that Mazurier was so persuaded of the justice of his course that he desired to have it imitated by another under the same circumstances.
Whatever we may do with the Truth, we cannot make it false. We may act like cowards, unworthy, ungrateful, ignorant; but the Truth will remain, Jacqueline." "Victor, you could not desert it." "How can I tell, Jacqueline? The last time I saw Martial Mazurier, he would have said nobler and more loving words than I can command.
Here they light again, as they have often lighted, torch and fagot; life must pay the cost! Angry crowds and hooting multitudes love this dreary square. Oh, Jacqueline and Victor, what is this I behold? They come together from their prison, hand in hand. "The testimony of Jesus!" Stand back, Mazurier! Retire, Briconnet! Here is not your place, this is not your hour!
He found Victor within his cell, his bright face not overcast with gloom, his eyes not betraying doubts, neither disappointed, astonished, nor in deep dejection. The mood he deemed unfavorable for his special word, poor, deceived, self-deceiving Mazurier! He was not merely surprised at these indications, he was at a loss. A little trepidation, doubt, suspicion would have better suited him.
"If I had been true!" said Victor, "if I had not listened to him! But him I will not blame. For why should I blame him? Am I an idiot? And his influence could not have prevailed, had I not so chosen, when I stood before my judges and they questioned me. No, I acquit Mazurier.
Already in that room faithful friends had gathered, to congratulate the living man, and to refresh their strength from the abounding richness of his. Martial Mazurier, the noted preacher, was there, and Victor Le Roy; besides these, others, unknown by name or presence to Jacqueline. Among them was the wool-comber, wounded with many stripes, branded, a heretic!
"Surely you cannot know, as you say. But from where you stand, that is what you are thinking. Jacqueline, confess! If you should speak your mind, it would be, 'Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God, poor coward! Oh, Jacqueline, Mazurier may deceive himself! I speak not for him; but what will you do with your poor Victor, my poor Jacqueline?"
That no man could tell them; so they came home to their lodging at length in the dark night, there to wait through endless-seeming hours for morning. On the Sunday they had chosen for their wedding-day Mazurier brought word of Victor to Jacqueline, was really a messenger, as he announced himself, when she opened for him the door of her room in the fourth story of the great lodging-house.
It was clearly apparent to him, that Victor Le Roy, having now also like opportunity for calm reflection, would come to like conclusions. With such confident prophecy, Mazurier left the young man.
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