I Had Hurried To The Topmost Powers Of Modestine, For I Dearly Desired To
See The View Upon The Other Side Before The Day Had Faded.
But it was
night when I reached the summit; the moon was riding high and clear; and
only a few grey streaks of twilight lingered in the west.
A yawning
valley, gulfed in blackness, lay like a hole in created nature at my
feet; but the outline of the hills was sharp against the sky. There was
Mount Aigoal, the stronghold of Castanet. And Castanet, not only as an
active undertaking leader, deserves some mention among Camisards; for
there is a spray of rose among his laurel; and he showed how, even in a
public tragedy, love will have its way. In the high tide of war he
married, in his mountain citadel, a young and pretty lass called
Mariette. There were great rejoicings; and the bridegroom released five-
and-twenty prisoners in honour of the glad event. Seven months
afterwards, Mariette, the Princess of the Cevennes, as they called her in
derision, fell into the hands of the authorities, where it was like to
have gone hard with her. But Castanet was a man of execution, and loved
his wife. He fell on Valleraugue, and got a lady there for a hostage;
and for the first and last time in that war there was an exchange of
prisoners. Their daughter, pledge of some starry night upon Mount
Aigoal, has left descendants to this day.
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