understood. He scanned Idelette again. “I am sorry, Mademoiselle. I will find this beast, I promise you. I do not know when, or how, but when I do, I shall make him pay fourfold, I swear it!”
He turned to go, then saw Avril nearby and stopped. He gestured to one of his men to bring his cloak from his horse. Fabien wrapped the small demoiselle inside his magnificent cloak and had one of the men carry her to the side of the road to await the family coach.
Rachelle rose to her feet, feeling the wind ruffle her hair. Her mind rode the wind back through the mulberry orchard and over the garden wall, past the roses, and through the open window into the salle where they had breakfasted that morning. The words spoken by Cousin Bertrand before he had left for the barn church came back to her, bringing a lump to her throat.
“Remember those who have gone before us, who have endured great afflictions for His name’s sake.”
How could any of them have known that he was speaking of their immediate future with such painful clarity? What began with such optimism on this Sunday morning, the most pleasant day of the week, had ended with a lament. Even Marquis Fabien’s unexpected return had brought him into the circle of change, with far-reaching results for him and his followers.
In such a short time, each of their lives was affected, and nothing would ever be the same again.
The baby began to cry, and Rachelle went to it gently and reached down and lifted the bundle into her arms. She cradled the infant safely against her breast and whispered soothing sounds. Perhaps there is hope your père is alive, little one.
THE COACH ARRIVED FROM the château and came to a shuddering halt beside the wall of mulberry trees. Madame Clair stepped down and looked across the wide field, the breeze blowing her dark skirts and high ruffled white lace collar.
Rachelle’s heart beat painfully. Oh, ma mère, this will be far more painful for you than for us .
Was it Providence that had brought Madame Clair home just when her family, and especially Idelette, would need her? If it had not been for the delay in printing the Dutch Bibles in Geneva, and the arrival there of Bertrand, Mère would have remained with Père Arnaut and waited to return with him.
Rachelle whispered to Idelette that Mère had arrived with the coach. For the first time, Idelette stirred, showing that she was attentive to what was going on around her. To Rachelle’s surprise, Idelette managed to stand and began walking across the field.
Marquis Fabien intercepted Madame Clair and spoke to her, his hand holding her arm as though he feared his words would cause her to collapse. But Madame Clair stood as queenly as any royal Valois, showing herself not only a strong woman, but one who believed deeply in the faith she so heartily promoted. She began walking with dignity across the wide field toward Idelette, who drew closer.
Rachelle watched with quiet pride. She could see from the marquis’ expression that he too admired Madame Clair. Her dignity at such a time made Rachelle lift her head a little higher. This fiery trial will not destroy us. Nothing can defeat those secure in Christ.
RACHELLE HAD THOUGHT TO join their meeting, but now she paused, watching.
The two women, so much alike in fair appearance and serious demeanor, neared one another, with the waving grasses around their feet. Madame Clair stopped and opened her arms wide. Idelette took her last weakened steps and fell into her loving, protective embrace.
Rachelle looked on with wet cheeks. The two women stood entwined, like a Michelangelo statue, a tribute to Huguenot women.
Strengthen them both, Father God, for hard days and late nights are ahead.
Rachelle became aware of others moving about what had now become a sanctified field. Voices were heard, like the ebb and tide of the sea. Voices of lament mixed with anger. A voice praying, and yet another quoting a verse in a tone that spoke its preciousness
He turned to go, then saw Avril nearby and stopped. He gestured to one of his men to bring his cloak from his horse. Fabien wrapped the small demoiselle inside his magnificent cloak and had one of the men carry her to the side of the road to await the family coach.
Rachelle rose to her feet, feeling the wind ruffle her hair. Her mind rode the wind back through the mulberry orchard and over the garden wall, past the roses, and through the open window into the salle where they had breakfasted that morning. The words spoken by Cousin Bertrand before he had left for the barn church came back to her, bringing a lump to her throat.
“Remember those who have gone before us, who have endured great afflictions for His name’s sake.”
How could any of them have known that he was speaking of their immediate future with such painful clarity? What began with such optimism on this Sunday morning, the most pleasant day of the week, had ended with a lament. Even Marquis Fabien’s unexpected return had brought him into the circle of change, with far-reaching results for him and his followers.
In such a short time, each of their lives was affected, and nothing would ever be the same again.
The baby began to cry, and Rachelle went to it gently and reached down and lifted the bundle into her arms. She cradled the infant safely against her breast and whispered soothing sounds. Perhaps there is hope your père is alive, little one.
THE COACH ARRIVED FROM the château and came to a shuddering halt beside the wall of mulberry trees. Madame Clair stepped down and looked across the wide field, the breeze blowing her dark skirts and high ruffled white lace collar.
Rachelle’s heart beat painfully. Oh, ma mère, this will be far more painful for you than for us .
Was it Providence that had brought Madame Clair home just when her family, and especially Idelette, would need her? If it had not been for the delay in printing the Dutch Bibles in Geneva, and the arrival there of Bertrand, Mère would have remained with Père Arnaut and waited to return with him.
Rachelle whispered to Idelette that Mère had arrived with the coach. For the first time, Idelette stirred, showing that she was attentive to what was going on around her. To Rachelle’s surprise, Idelette managed to stand and began walking across the field.
Marquis Fabien intercepted Madame Clair and spoke to her, his hand holding her arm as though he feared his words would cause her to collapse. But Madame Clair stood as queenly as any royal Valois, showing herself not only a strong woman, but one who believed deeply in the faith she so heartily promoted. She began walking with dignity across the wide field toward Idelette, who drew closer.
Rachelle watched with quiet pride. She could see from the marquis’ expression that he too admired Madame Clair. Her dignity at such a time made Rachelle lift her head a little higher. This fiery trial will not destroy us. Nothing can defeat those secure in Christ.
RACHELLE HAD THOUGHT TO join their meeting, but now she paused, watching.
The two women, so much alike in fair appearance and serious demeanor, neared one another, with the waving grasses around their feet. Madame Clair stopped and opened her arms wide. Idelette took her last weakened steps and fell into her loving, protective embrace.
Rachelle looked on with wet cheeks. The two women stood entwined, like a Michelangelo statue, a tribute to Huguenot women.
Strengthen them both, Father God, for hard days and late nights are ahead.
Rachelle became aware of others moving about what had now become a sanctified field. Voices were heard, like the ebb and tide of the sea. Voices of lament mixed with anger. A voice praying, and yet another quoting a verse in a tone that spoke its preciousness
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