Thou wert in the right to fly it.

Happy child! thou art gone to a place where there are no Cagots, no men to persecute thee; thou wilt know now who were the ancestors from whom we descend.
Thou hast no more use for the pruning-knife and the infamous axe.

No more toil nor suffering await thee; no more contempt nor outrage! Accursed be the wheel, oh, Gratien, which crushed thee! never may the torrent wash out thy blood which stains it; let it turn for ever red and bloody! No bell tolled for thy soul; but the thunder and the wind, oh, Gratien! Toll louder still--no bell for the Cagot! But Heaven weeps with us, the trees groan with us.

Old man! thou dost not weep alone.

Adieu, dear Gratien, thy body is returned to thy cabin; but thy soul, escaped the demon, is fled on a beam of the moon to the great house of heaven! Yes, he cries--I am in heaven; I am telling the Cagots, our ancestors, that their children are still in suffering!'" * * * * * Guilhem, comforted by the tenderness of Raymond, recovers in some degree his self-possession, and proceeds to relate to the young knight the manner of his falling, when an infant, into his charge.