and in a lady-like manner, and waving her hand, said: "Au revoir," and followed the domestic who consigned her to her maid.
"As you are from Saumière," said the priest, turning to the miller, "You are surely acquainted with the hermit, who is now the leader of a troop against the Camisards?" "Oh, I know him very well," replied the youth, "his cell is in a rocky valley, which is separated from our mill only by a stony fence; we often visited him on holidays, when the valley was passable on our side; he is a tall, athletic man, with a grizly beard and large, grey eyes; he seemed peaceable and quiet until the war made him a soldier again. Unheard of cruelties are asserted to have been committed by him; he is said not to know what compassion is, and must take pleasure in murder; but now his trade is over." "Is he dead?" enquired the Counsellor. "No, not exactly that," continued the young man, "but I heard a report on the Vidourla, that he was totally defeated yesterday by Cavalier, and that, if he consults his own advantage, he will creep into a cell, for the common people will not surely trust to him again, when they perceive that he does not understand his business."
"He has been a captain, however," said the huntsman.
"The combat against the rebels," said the priest, "is a difficult affair, for that courage and the ordinary discipline of a soldier do not suffice; our Marshal Montrevel would perhaps prefer fighting against Eugene and Marlborough than with these rag-o-muffins."
More wood was now piled on the fire. The father sat down, while Edmond paced up and down the hall in visible inquietude, the priest drew his chair towards the Counsellor, and said: "You are suffering from the gout in your left foot, my lord."
"Why do you conclude so?" asked the old gentleman, "the leg does not appear to me swoln, although you have guessed rightly."
"The swelling," continued the priest, "is certainly almost imperceptible; but you often step lighter and more gently with this foot, probably without being conscious of it, perhaps this joint is a little contracted in proportion to the right, and therefore has not the strength of the latter."
"That is very critically observed," said the Counsellor.
"My honoured sir," continued the priest, "it is incredible how consistent and reasonable nature is in all her productions. To analyse her in her minutest parts is instructive, however ridiculous it may appear to the unpractised. More than a century ago, the Neapolitan, De la Porte, wrote an excellent book on physiognomy comparing the human and the brutal together; in the earlier ages people tried to read on the countenance the virtues, vices, and qualities of the disposition: Believe me, if I could devote my leisure hours to this subject, I am confident I should carry it so far as to be able to discover from a shoe, or a boot, that had been worn for a time, many faults or peculiarities of its possessor."
"Really?" said the old Lord smiling, "They betray themselves by the garments, when closely examined; the hasty, or irresolute gait, the shuffling of the feet, the gliding step of ladies, are certainly very expressive; a certain nonchalant manner of walking, a haughty tread of the heel, an affected, frivolous sliding on tip toe, the indecisive tottering footstep, by which the shoe loses its shape, excepting the qualities which however demonstrate themselves by the high, or low instep, or by the flatness of the foot. But now for the legs; if these were exhibited in their natural state, it would be scarcely possible to mistake the rank, profession, and way of life; then there are tailor's and baker's legs, which it is impossible not to recognise, foot and cavalry soldier's legs, weaver's and joiner's legs, and so on."
"These are very interesting observations," said the Counsellor, "would you, for instance, venture to declare the former manner of life of my Frantz by his legs?"
"By my legs?" exclaimed the old servant, who was still busied in clearing away. "Here they are, reverend sir."
"Stoop a little--now go yonder--come back again--stand perfectly upright--my Lord Counsellor, I could swear that your Frantz has been in his youth, nay at a later period of life, a mariner."'
The servant looked at the priest astounded, and the Lord of Beauvais said: "You have hit it, my reverend friend; but from what do you draw your conclusion?"
"No mariner," said the priest "ever loses entirely the straggling and somewhat stooping gait which he has acquired on shipboard, he sinks his loins in walking, and a slight limp remains for the rest of his life."
When the other servant approached, the priest immediately cried out, "Give yourself no further trouble, one can see at the distance of a gun-shot, that the good man has been a tailor in his youth, and that he certainly pursues the same occupation now, for the bent shins clearly demonstrate it." "You follow the chase," turning to the huntsman who was standing; "it must be so, although I should rather have taken you for a soldier, and from the eye, for a smuggler; by the bye, what is the matter with your right knee? it certainly is not from attending mass, from whence then does this slight protuberance proceed? perhaps you have acquired the strange habit of falling on your right knee when you shoot?"
"Reverend sir," exclaimed the huntsman, "you must be a bit of a wizard yourself, for you have hit the mark. From my youth upwards I have never been able to shoot but in a kneeling position; should a hare run by under my nose, I cannot hit it standing, I must first throw myself down; but I have always been much ridiculed by my companions for it."
"For the rest," resumed the priest, "you have mountain-legs, and you must have been born in the Cevennes, or the Pyrenees, your eye too is characteristic of the mountaineer who is far-sighted."
"Just so," said the huntsman, "I come from Lozère, the wildest part of the mountains."
"Well, my young friend," said the connoisseur in legs, turning to the young lad,--"You pretend to be a miller and want miller's legs, how does that happen? observe, that from carrying sacks, the miller's back is early bent and becomes broad and round, but the principal weight presses upon the calves of the legs, the sinews of the hams become disproportionately strong; but with you these are precisely the weakest parts, the ancles too are not large enough: here, summa summarum fails the miller's character, for my science cannot deceive."
"In this I cannot assist you, sir," said the young man petulantly, "for I am what I am, and will remain so."
"For my part," quickly rejoined the critic, "I desire not to press too closely on your miller's honour, you may probably be a spoilt, effeminate mother's darling, who would not suffer you to be too heavily laden, your hair and whole countenance have a mealy character, your voice too sounds like the wheat-bell and the mill-hopper, but when I look at your knees, they seem to me to be those of a baker, which are turned in from shoving the bread into the oven and taking it out again; during this process he is obliged to keep in a stooping position and rests upon his knees; but I discover the strangest contradiction in your thighs, for they are those of a horseman and of one who rides much, your eye too betrays a martial spirit, it darts here and there and is never quiet as a miller's ought to be, who is attentive to his business; in short, you are to me in your legs and in your whole person a very puzzling youth."
The young man reddened with resentment and the Counsellor endeavoured to turn the entire affair into merriment and laughter,--when the whole party was suddenly alarmed by a violent knocking at the front door of the house, that aroused even Edmond from his reverie. "For God's sake let me in," roared a voice loudly from without, "open to me in the name of heaven!"
At a sign from the Counsellor, who quickly recovered from his surprise, the servants rushed forward, the company looked at one another in silence, the bolts were withdrawn, and the tread of heavy footsteps was heard approaching the hall; the doors were thrown open, and lighted by the servants, a tall, powerfully-built figure with grey hair and moustaches of the same hue entered, he held in his hand a massive staff, that without exaggeration might be termed a club;
