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'Glory be to Jesus Christ, and His witnesses!" Mazurier thanked God for the deliverance of His servant! He dedicated himself and Victor anew to the service of Truth, which they had shrunk from defending! And his eloquence and fervor seemed to stamp the words with sincerity. He seemed not in the least to suspect or fear himself.
Let nothing persuade you that you have been mistaken. We asked for light, it was given us, let us walk in it; and no matter where it leads, since the light is from heaven. Do not think of me, nor of yourself, but only of Jesus Christ, who said, 'Whosoever would save his life shall lose it." Mazurier took this message. What did he do with it? He tossed it to the winds.
Mazurier had, indeed, conveyed to his mind an impression that would have satisfied him, if anything of this character could do so. But this was impossible. The secret of his disquiet was far too profound for such easy removal. He had not in himself the witness that he had fulfilled the will of God. He was disquieted, humiliated, wretched.
For, the instant she heard his choice, her heart told her what she had been hoping during these days of suspense. She had tried to see Martial Mazurier, but without success, since he conveyed, or promised to convey, her message to the prisoner. Of purpose he had avoided her.
He desired, he said, to serve his Master, and, of all things, sought the Truth. To go to the prisoner, Mazurier assured Jacqueline, was impossible, but she might send a message; indeed, he was here to serve his dear friends. Ah, poor girl, did she trust the man by whom she sent into a prison words like these? "Hold fast to the faith that is in you, Victor.
"Is it true, Victor, that Martial Mazurier is in prison?" His answer surprised her. "No, it is not true." But his countenance did not answer the glad expression of her face with an equal smile. His gravity almost communicated itself to her. Yet this rebound from her recent dismay surely might demand an opportunity. "I believe you," said she. "But I was coming to see if it could be true.
Mazurier had something to do in the matter of reconciling his conscience to the part he had taken, in his recent opportunity to prove himself equally a hero with Leclerc. He had recanted, done evil, in short, that good might come; and was not content with having done this thing: how should he be?
Strengthened and inspired by the scenes of the last three days, Martial Mazurier began to preach with an enthusiasm, bravery, and eloquence unknown before to his hearers. He threw himself into the work of preaching, the new revelation of the ancient eternal Truth, with an ardor that defied authority, that scorned danger, and with a recklessness that had its own reward.
He could not think of Leclerc, nor upon his protestations, except with shame and remorse, remorse, already. In his heart, in spite of the impression Mazurier had contrived to convey, he believed not that Jacqueline would bless him to such work as he could henceforth perform, no longer a free man, no longer possessed of liberty of speech and thought.
You repeat Mazurier's words." "Yet shall I remain. No, I will never run away." The pride of the young fellow, and the consternation occasioned by the recreancy of his superior, his belief in the doctrines he had confessed with Mazurier, and the time-serving of the latter, had evidently thrown asunder the guards of his peace, and produced a sad state of confusion.
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