Richard F. Burton - "Two Trips to Gorilla Land and the Cataracts of the Congo Volume 2"

A. M. Barnard - "Behind A Mask, Or A Woman's Power"

Nikolaj Velimirovic - "The Agony of the Church (1917)"

Grace Livingston Hill - "The City of Fire"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Saint Bartholomew\'s Eve

G >> G. A. Henty >> Saint Bartholomew\'s Eve




"I own that I think it serious, because I have come, in spite of my
reason, to believe somewhat in your forebodings; but no one else
seems to entertain any such fears."

Opening the casement, Philip seated himself there.

"Do you lie down, Pierre. At two o'clock I will call you, and you
shall take my place."

Pierre went out, but before lying down he again went quietly
downstairs and, with a wet cloth, entirely erased the mark from the
door; and then, placing his sword and his pistols ready at hand,
lay down on his pallet. At one o'clock Philip aroused him.

"There is something unusual going on, Pierre. I can see a light in
the sky, as of many torches; and can hear a confused sound, as of
the murmur of men. I will sally out and see what it is."

Placing his pistols in his belt and taking his sword, he wrapped
himself in his cloak and, followed by Pierre, also armed, went down
into the street. As he went along he overtook two men. As he passed
under a lamp, one of them exclaimed:

"Is that you, Monsieur Fletcher?"

He turned. It was the Sieur de Pascal.

"It is I, Monsieur de Pascal. I was going out to learn the meaning
of those lights over there."

"That is just what I am doing, myself. As the night is hot, I could
not sleep; so I threw open my window, and saw those lights, which
were, as it appeared to me, somewhere in the neighbourhood of the
Admiral's house; and I thought it was as well to see what they
meant."

As they went along, they came upon men with lighted torches; and
saw that, in several of the streets, groups of men with torches
were silently standing.

"What is taking place?" the Sieur de Pascal asked one of the men.

"There is going to be a night masque, and a mock combat at the
Louvre," the man said.

"It is strange. I heard nothing about it at the Louvre," Philip
said, as they proceeded on their way. "I was with the King of
Navarre up to ten o'clock and, had anything been known of it by him
or the gentlemen with him, I should have been sure to have heard of
it."

They were joined by two or three other Huguenot gentlemen, roused
by the unusual light and talking in the street; and they proceeded
together to the Louvre. Large numbers of torches were burning in
front of the palace, and a body of soldiers was drawn up there.

"The man was right," the Sieur de Pascal said. "There is evidently
some diversion going on here."

As they approached they saw a movement in front, and then three or
four men ran towards them.

"Why, De Vignes," De Pascal exclaimed, as the first ran up, "what
is the matter?"

"That I do not know," De Vignes said. "I was roused half an hour
ago by the lights and noise, and came down with De la Riviere,
Maurepas, Castellon, and De Vigors, who lodges with me, to see what
it was about. As we approached the soldiers, they began to jeer at
us in a most insolent manner. Naturally we replied, and threatened
to report them to their officers; when the insolent varlets drew
and ran at us. Maurepas has, as you see, been wounded by a halbert;
and as we five could not give battle to that crowd of soldiers, we
ran for it. I shall lay the matter before La Rochefoucauld, and
request him to make a complaint to the king. What can we do now,
gentlemen?"

"I see not that we can do anything," De Pascal said. "We have heard
that these torchlight gatherings are part of a plan for a sham
attack on a castle, or something of that sort, for the amusement of
the king. Doubtless the soldiers are gathered for that purpose. We
cannot arouse La Rochefoucauld, at this hour of the night, that is
certain; so I see nothing to do but to go home, and wait till
morning."

"You do not think," Philip said, "that there is any possibility of
a general attack upon us being intended?"

"What! An attack got up at the Louvre, under the very eyes of the
king, who is our firm friend? You are dreaming, Monsieur Fletcher."

"I have one suspicious fact to go upon," Philip said quietly, and
then related the discovery of the crosses upon the doors.

The others, however, were absolutely incredulous that any treachery
could be intended and, after talking for a short time, longer, they
returned to their lodgings.

"What is to be done now, Pierre?"

"I should say we had better search farther, sir. If there is any
harm intended, the mob of Paris will be stirring. Let us go down
towards the Hotel de Ville; that is always the centre of mischief.
If all is quiet there, it may be that this story is correct, and
that it is really only a court diversion. But that does not explain
why the streets should be lighted up near the Admiral's."

"It does not, Pierre."

After they had passed another group of men with torches, Pierre
said:

"Did you notice, sir, that each of those men had a piece of white
stuff bound round his arm, and that it was the same with those we
passed before? If there is any mischief intended, we should be more
likely to learn what it is if we were to put on the same badge."

"The idea is a good one, Pierre;" and Philip took out his
handkerchief, tore it in two and, handing half of it to Pierre,
fastened the other round his arm.

As they went along, they met men with torches or lanterns, moving
in the same direction as themselves. All wore white handkerchiefs
or scarves round their arms.

Philip became more and more anxious as they went on, and regretted
that he had not returned to his lodgings and renewed his watch
there. However, a few minutes' walking took them to the Hotel de
Ville. The square in front of the building was faintly illuminated
by a few torches, here and there, and by large cressets that blazed
in front of the Hotel. The light, however, was sufficient to show a
dense body of men drawn up in the square, and the ruddy light of
the flames flashed from helmet, lance point, and axe.

"What think you now, Monsieur Philip? There must be eight or ten
thousand men here. I should say all the city bands, under their
captains."

As they paused, a citizen officer came up to them.

"All is ready, your excellency. I do not think that a man is absent
from his post. The orders remain unchanged, I suppose?"

"Quite unchanged," Philip said briefly, seeing that in the faint
light he was mistaken for someone else.

"And the bell is to be the signal for beginning?"

"I believe there has been a change in that respect," Philip said;
"but you will hear that later on. I am only here to see that all is
in readiness."

"Everything has been done as ordered, your excellency. The gates
are closed, and will not be opened except to one bearing special
orders, under the king's own seal. The boats have all been removed
from the wharves. There will be no escape."

Philip repressed a strong impulse to run the man through the body,
and only said:

"Good. Your zeal will not be forgotten."

Then he turned and walked away. They had gone but a few paces when,
in the distance, the report of a pistol was heard.

"Too late!" he exclaimed, in passionate regret.

"Come, Pierre," and he broke into a rapid run.

Several times groups of men came out from bye-streets at the sound
of the rapid footsteps, but Philip exclaimed:

"Away there! I am on urgent business for Anjou and Guise."

The men fell back at once, in each case, not doubting from the
badges on the arms, which they could make out in the darkness, that
Philip was bearing some important order.

"To the Admiral's, first," he said to Pierre. "It is there they
will surely begin."

But as they entered the Rue de Bethisy, he saw a number of men
pouring out from the Admiral's house, with drawn swords and waving
their torches over their heads. By the light, Philip could make out
Henri of Guise and Henry of Valois, with their attendants and
soldiers.

"We are too late here, Pierre. The Admiral has doubtless been
murdered. His confidence in the king's word has undone him."

Coligny, indeed, had refused the offer of many Protestant gentlemen
to spend the night in the house; and even Teligny, his son-in-law,
had gone to his own lodgings a short distance away. He had with him
only his chaplain Merlin, the king's surgeon, three gentlemen and
four or five servants; while in the court below were five of the
King of Navarre's Swiss guards.

The Admiral had been awakened by the increasing noise without, but
entertained no alarm whatever. Suddenly a loud knocking was heard
at the outer gate, and a demand for entrance, in the king's name.

The Admiral directed one of the gentlemen, named Le Bonne, to go
down and unbar the gate. As he did so, Cosseins, an officer of
Anjou's household rushed in, followed by fifty soldiers, and
stabbed Le Bonne to the heart. The soldiers had been despatched by
the king, himself, under pretence of guarding the Huguenots; and
twelve hundred arquebusiers had also been posted, under the same
pretext, in the neighbourhood.

The faithful Swiss defended the inner door and, when driven back,
defended for a time a barricade hastily thrown up on the stairs.
One of the Huguenot gentlemen rushed into the Admiral's room, with
the news that the gate had been forced. The Admiral calmly replied:

"I have kept myself for a long time in readiness for death. Save
yourselves, if you can. It would be hopeless for you to attempt to
save my life."

In obedience to his orders, all who were with him, save a German
interpreter, fled to the roof and made their escape in the
darkness. The barricade was carried, and a German named Besme, a
follower of the Duke of Guise, was the first to rush into the
Admiral's room. Coligny was calmly seated in a chair, and Besme
struck him two blows with his sword, while those following
despatched him.

Guise was waiting in the courtyard below. When he heard that the
Admiral was killed, he ordered the body to be thrown out of the
window. When he recognized that it was indeed the body of the
Admiral, he gave it a brutal kick, while one of his followers cut
off the head; and then Guise called upon the soldiers to follow
him, saying:

"We have begun well. Let us now see to the others, for so the king
commands."

As Philip turned from the spot, the bell of the church of Saint
Germain l'Auxerrois peeled forth, and shouts instantly rose from
all quarters. As he reached the street in which he lodged, Philip
saw that it was already half full of armed men, who were shouting
"Death to the Huguenots!" and were hammering at many of the doors.

He fell at once into a walk, and made his way through them
unmolested, the white badge on his arm seeming to guarantee that he
was a friend. He passed his own door, and made for that of the
Count de Valecourt. A combat was going on in front of it and, by
the light of the torches, Philip saw De Pascal defending himself
bravely against a host of enemies. Sword in hand, Philip sprang
forward. But before he could make his way through the soldiers, a
musket shot rang out, and De Pascal fell dead.

Philip drew back.

"To our own house, Pierre," he exclaimed to his lackey, who was
keeping close behind him; "we can do nothing here, and the door may
resist for a few minutes."

There was no one in front of the entrance, though at all the doors
marked with a white cross the soldiers were hammering with the
butts of their arquebuses. They slipped in, pushed the bars across,
ran upstairs and made their way on to the roof, and climbed along
it until they reached the window of the house in which De Valecourt
lodged; felt their way across the room till they discovered the
door, issued out and, as soon as they found the staircase, ran
down.

Already there was a turmoil below. A light streamed out from a door
of the count's apartments on the first floor. Philip ran in. Claire
de Valecourt was standing with one hand resting on the table,
deadly pale, but quiet. She was fully dressed.

"Where is your father?" Philip exclaimed.

"He has gone down with the servants to hold the stairs."

"I will join him," Philip said. "Pierre will take care of you. He
knows what to do. We will follow you. Quick, for your own sake and
your father's."

"I cannot go and leave him."

"You will do him no good by staying, and delay may cost us all our
lives. You must go at once. If you do not, at the risk of your
displeasure, I must carry you."

"I will go," she said. "You saved me before, and I trust you."

"Trust Pierre as you would trust me," he said.

"Now, Pierre, take her hand and hurry her upstairs."

The clash of swords, mingled with shouts and oaths, were heard
below; and Philip, as he saw Pierre turn with Claire de Valecourt,
ran down. On the next landing the count, with four serving men, was
defending himself against the assault of a crowd of armed men, who
were pushing up the staircase. Others behind them held torches,
while some of those engaged in the fray held a torch in one hand,
and a sword in the other.

"Ah, is it you, Monsieur Fletcher?" the count said, as Philip
placed himself beside him, felling one of the foremost of the
assailants, as he did so, with a sweeping blow.

"It is I, count. My house is not attacked, and I have sent off your
daughter, in charge of my man, to gain it along the roofs. We will
follow them, as soon as we can beat back these villains."

"The king's troops must arrive shortly," the count said.

"The king's troops are here," Philip said. "This is done by his
orders, and all Paris is in arms. The Admiral has already been
murdered."

The count gave a cry of fury, and threw himself upon his
assailants. His companions did the same and, step by step, drove
them backward down the stairs.

There was a cry below of "Shoot them down!" and, a moment later,
three or four arquebuses flashed out from the hall. The count,
without a word, pitched forward among the soldiers; and two of the
retainers also fell. Then the crowd surged up again.

Philip fought desperately for a time. Another shot rang out, and he
felt a sudden smart across his cheek. He turned and bounded up the
stairs, paused a moment at the top, and discharged his two pistols
at the leaders of the assailants; pulled to the door of the count's
chamber, leaving the corridor in darkness, and then sprang up the
stairs. When he reached the door of the unused room by which they
had entered, he fastened it behind him, got through the window and
closed it after him, and then rapidly made his way along the roofs,
until he reached his own. Closing and fastening the casement, he
ran down to his room.

Claire was standing there, with Pierre by her side. She gave a low
cry as he entered, alone.

"My father!" she exclaimed.

"God has taken him," Philip said, "as He has taken many others
tonight. He died painlessly, mademoiselle, by a shot from below."

Claire sank into a chair, and covered her face with her hands.

"His will be done," she said, in a low but firm voice, as she
looked up a minute later. "We are all in His hands, and can die but
once. Will they soon come?"

"I trust not," Philip said. "They may follow along the roof, when
they cannot find us in any of the rooms; but they will have no clue
as to which house we have entered."

"I will remain here and wait for them," she said.

"Then, mademoiselle, you will sacrifice our lives, as well as your
own; for assuredly we shall not leave you. Thus far we have escaped
and, if you will follow my directions, we may all escape together.
Still, if you wish it, we can die here together."

"What is to be done?" she asked, standing up.

Pierre handed Philip a bundle.

"I brought them down as I passed," he said.

"This is a disguise," Philip said, handing it to the girl. "I pray
you to put it on, at once. We also have disguises, and will return
in them, in a few minutes."



Chapter 21: Escape.


"This is awful, Pierre," Philip said, as he hurriedly assumed the
disguise the latter had prepared.

The clamour outside was indeed terrible. The bell of Saint Germain
l'Auxerrois was still sounding its signal, but mingled with it were
a thousand sounds of combat and massacre, the battering of hammers
and axes upon doors, the discharges of arquebuses and pistols, the
shouts of men and the loud screams of women.

Pierre glanced out of the window. With the soldiers were mingled a
crowd from the slums of Paris; who, scenting carnage from the
movements of the citizen troops, had waited in readiness to gather
the spoil; and had arrived on the spot, as if by magic, as soon as
the first signal of alarm told them that the work of slaughter had
begun.

"Can we get out behind, think you, Pierre?" Philip asked, as he
joined him.

"I will see, sir. One could scarce sally out, here, without being
at once seized and questioned. Doubtless a watch was placed in the
rear, at first; but the soldiers would be likely to make off, to
join in the massacre and get their share of plunder, as soon as the
affair began.

"You will do, sir, as far as the dress goes; but you must smear
your face and arms. They are far too white, at present, and would
be instantly noticed."

Philip rubbed his hands, blackened by his passage across the roofs,
over his face and arms; and then joined Claire, who started, as he
entered.

"I did not know you," she said. "Come; are we ready? It were surely
better to die at once, than to listen to these dreadful sounds."

"One moment. Pierre will return directly. He has gone to see
whether the lane behind the houses is clear. Once fairly away, and
our course will be easier."

Pierre returned almost immediately.

"The way is clear."

"Let us go, then, mademoiselle."

"One moment, monsieur. Let us pray before we start. We may have no
time, there."

And, standing with upturned face, she prayed earnestly for
protection.

"Lead us, O God," she concluded, "through the strife and turmoil;
as Thou didst the holy men of old, through the dangers of the lions
and the furnace. But if it be Thy will that we should die, then do
we commend our souls to Thee; in the sure faith that we are but
passing through death into life.

"Now I am ready," she said, turning to Philip.

"You cannot go like this, Mademoiselle Claire," Pierre said
reverently. "Of what good would that disguise be to you, when your
face would betray you in the darkest street? You must ruffle your
hair, and pull that hood over your face, so as to hide it as much
as possible."

The girl walked across to a mirror.

[Illustration: Philip, Claire and Pierre disguise themselves.]

"I would I could take my sword, Pierre," said Philip.

"Take it, sir. Strap it boldly round your waist. If anyone remarks
on it, laugh, and say it was a Huguenot's half an hour ago. I will
carry mine stuck under my arm.

"Use as few words as may be, if you have to speak; and speak them
gruffly, or they will discover at once that you are no smith. I
fear not for ourselves. We can play our parts--fight or run for it.
It is that angel I fear for."

"God will protect her, Pierre. Ah! They are knocking at the door,
and the women of the house may be coming down to open it."

"Not they, sir. You may be sure they are half mad with terror. Not
one has shown herself, since the tumult began. The landlord and his
two sons are, doubtless, with the city bands. Like enough they have
led some of their fellows here, or why should they attack the door,
as it is unmarked?"

Claire joined them again. They hurried downstairs, and then out by
the back entrance into a narrow lane. Philip carried a heavy hammer
on his shoulder. Pierre had a large butcher's knife stuck
conspicuously in his girdle. He was bare headed and had dipped his
head in water, so that his hair fell matted across his face, which
was grimy and black.

Day was now breaking, but the light was as yet faint.

"Keep close to me, Claire," Philip said as they reached the street,
which was ablaze with torches. "Above all things do not shrink, or
seem as if you were afraid."

"I am not afraid," she said. "God saved me before from as great a
peril, and will save me again, if it seems good to Him."

"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Pay no attention to what is going on
around you."

"I will pray," she said simply.

Just as they entered the street the crowd separated, and the Duke
of Guise, followed by several nobles of his party, rode along,
shouting:

"Death to all Huguenots! It is the king's command."

"It is the command you and others have put into his mouth,
villain!" Philip muttered to himself.

A roar of ferocious assent rose from the crowd, which was composed
of citizen soldiers and the scum of Paris. They danced and yelled,
and uttered ferocious jests at the dead bodies lying in the road.

Here the work of slaughter was nearly complete. Few of the
Huguenots had offered any resistance, although some had fought
desperately to the last. Most of them, however, taken by surprise,
and seeing resistance useless, had thrown down their arms; and
either cried for quarter, or had submitted themselves calmly to
slaughter. Neither age nor sex had availed to save them. Women and
children, and even infants, had been slain without mercy.

The soldiers, provided with lists of the houses inhabited by
Huguenots, were going round to see that none had escaped attack.
Many in the crowd were attired in articles of dress that they had
gained in the plunder. Ragged beggars wore cloaks of velvet, or
plumed hats. Many had already been drinking heavily. Women mingled
in the crowd, as ferocious and merciless as the men.

"Break me in this door, friend," an officer, with a list in his
hand and several soldiers standing beside him, said to Philip.

The latter did not hesitate. To do so would have brought
destruction on himself and those with him; without averting, for
more than a minute or two, the fate of those within. Placing
himself in front of the door, he swung his heavy hammer and brought
it down upon the woodwork. A dozen blows, and the door began to
splinter.

The crack of a pistol sounded above, and the officer standing close
to him fell dead. Four or five shots were fired, by the soldiers,
at the window above. Another two or three blows, and the door gave
way.

Philip went aside as the soldiers, followed by a crowd, rushed in;
and returned to Claire, who was standing by the side of Pierre, a
few paces away.

"Let us go on," he said.

A few yards further they were at the entrance of a lane running
north. As Philip turned into it, a man caught him by the arm.

"Where are you going, comrade?" he said. "There is plenty of work
for your hammer, yet."

"I have a job elsewhere," Philip said.

"It is rare work, comrade. I have killed five of them with my own
hand, and I have got their purses, too," he chuckled.

"Hallo! Who is this girl you have with you?"

And he roughly caught hold of Claire.

Philip's pent-up rage found a vent. He sprang upon the man, seized
him by the throat, and hurled him with tremendous force against the
wall; whence he fell, a senseless mass, on to the ground.

"What is it?" cried half a dozen men, rushing up.

"A Huguenot in disguise," Philip said. "You will find his pockets
are full of gold."

They threw themselves upon the fallen man, fighting and cursing to
be the first to ransack his pockets; while Philip, with his two
companions, moved up the lane unnoticed.

Fifty yards farther Claire stumbled, and would have fallen had not
Philip caught her. Her head had fallen forward, and he felt at once
that she was insensible. He placed her on a doorstep, and supported
her in a sitting position, Pierre standing by. A minute later a
group of men came hurrying down the street.

"What is it?" one of the group asked, as he stopped for a moment.

"It is only a woman, squeamish," Pierre said in a rough voice. "She
would come with us, thinking she could pick up a trinket or two;
but, ma foi, it is hot down there, and she turned sick. So we are
taking her home."

Satisfied with the explanation, the men hurried on.

"Shall I carry her, Pierre? Her weight would be nothing."

"Better wait a few minutes, Monsieur Philip, and see if she comes
round. Our story is right enough, as long as we stop here; but
people might want to know more, if they were to meet you carrying a
woman."

Some minutes passed, and then, finding that Claire remained
unconscious, Philip lifted her on to his shoulder.

"We will risk it, Pierre. As long as we only meet them coming along
in twos or threes, we can go on safely; for if they are
inquisitive, I can set her down and speedily silence their
questioning. If we see a large body coming, we can either turn down
a side street or, if there is no turning at hand, can set her down
again and answer as before. Every step we get, farther away from
the quarter we have left, the better."

He had carried Claire but a few hundred yards, when he felt her
move. He at once set her down again, on a doorstep. In a few
minutes she was able to stand and, assisted by Philip, she
presently continued her course, at a slow pace. Gradually the
movement restored her strength, and she said, speaking for the
first time:

"I can walk alone."

An hour later they reached the hut that they had marked out as
their place of refuge. Pierre went to a corner and drew out, from
under a heap of rubbish, a large bundle.

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