﻿198 PICTORIAL MISCELLANY. 



chilled ; nevertheless, it was naturally so kind, so noble, that it could 

 experience another sentiment, wholly generous, that of pity. Her 

 darling of the morning, the little songstress, was on her knees, weep- 

 ing bitterly ; one of the dark-complexioned men of the company 

 rose, went to her, and with one blow on the shoulder overthrew her, 

 uttering what seemed to be abusive language, for this man also spoke 

 in an unknown tongue. 



" Oh, God ! help me ! ' murmured Bathilde, rising with the last 

 courage which remained to her ; she fled rapidly, full of the new 

 strength derived from her terrors, her grief at thinking of what her 

 mother's anxiety must be, and her hope of delivering the poor little 

 songstress, wfo was beaten so cruelly, who was so little, so droll, and 



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who ought to be so good. 



After another hour's walk, Bathilde's ear was struck by voices which 

 made her tremble with the joy of deliverance. They were calling 

 her ; it was really her name which she heard in the distance ; she 

 replied as loudly as she was able. A few minutes afterwards, she 

 perceived lights, recognized the domestics of the house, and fell into 

 the arms of her weeping mother, who hastened to meet her, and re- 

 ceived on her bosom all the tears of this poor little heart, so long 

 tortured by deep anguish. 



On her return Bathilde was seized with a violent fever, accompa- 

 nied with delirium ; she was so sick that she could not relate her ad- 

 venture until two days after that horrible night. As she terminated 

 her recital, she did not forget to petition her mother earnestly to do 

 all in her power to deliver her darling from those horrible black men 

 who were so mistreating her. 



" My child," said M'me de Blinval, " I am unwilling to reprove 

 you for the fault you have committed in disobeying my instructions 

 to you not to go beyond the old willow, for your forgetfulness, not 

 to say your disobedience, has been severely punished. As for the 

 company you perceived in the night in the depths of the wood, I 

 think it was not a company of robbers. They were, undoubtedly, 

 some of those wandering adventurers who have customs, laws and 

 rites of their own ; who for many centuries have been vagabond, 

 living by jugglery and theft, keeping themselves as much as possible 

 aloof from society, yet secretly waging war with it to live by it. 



