"I take
no credit, M. Chapeau," said he, "for suffering for my King, though,
while he lived, he always had my poor prayers for his safety. It wasn't
to fight the blues that I left my little home. It was because I couldn't
stay any without fearing to see that girl there in the rude hands of
Lechelle's soldiers, and my own roof in a blaze. It's all gone now,
forge and tools; the old woman's chair, the children's cradle; it's all
gone, now and for ever. I don't wish to curse any one, M. Chapeau, but
I am not in the humour to cry Vive le Roi!"
"But Michael Stein, my dear friend," urged Chapeau, "look what others
have lost too. Have not others suffered as much? Look at the old
Marquis, turned out of his house and everything lost; and yet you won't
hear a word of complaint fall from his mouth. Look at Madame de Lescure,
her husband dying; her house burnt to the ground; without a bed to lie
on, or a change of dress and yet she does not complain."
"They have brought it on themselves by their own doings," answered the
smith; "and they have brought it on me also, who have done nothing.
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