CHAPTER V.

THE PASSPORT.


When I reached home it was some hours after sunrise. The dragoons, just
recalled from the Spanish frontier, where they were no longer wanted,
were spreading themselves over the country with the express commission
to harass the Huguenot inhabitants as much as possible, short of death,
but had not yet reached Nismes.

I entered my father's house. Contrary to custom, he was not at the
factory, but awaiting my return. He rose when I appeared, and stood
silently looking at me, while my mother put her hands on my shoulders,
and looked piteously in my face.

"Son, thou hast been out all night."

"At my uncle's, mother. He was ill in bed; the dragoons were there; and
my aunt begged me to stay as a safeguard."

"You did quite right to comply, my boy," said my father, heartily.
"I trust the dragoons did not misuse thy good uncle."

"I know not what you call misusing," replied I, "if beating their
drums round his bed all night did not deserve that term. They almost
killed him with their clamor--ate everything in the house--called for