the water is broad and the stream slow, but between
the island and the other shore the narrow river runs
rapidly. Henri at first contented himself with
sending the women and children, together with the sick
and aged, into the island, thinking that there they
would be at any rate for a time safe from the blues,
and that some effort might probably be made from the
other shore to convey them across the narrow passage.
Gradually, however, the island became full, and he
was obliged to send his boats round to take the people
from thence to the main land.
All day the work continued, and when the dark night
came on, the boats did not for a moment cease to ply.
Immediately after sunset, the rain began to fall in
torrents, and as the anxious wretches did not like
to leave the close vicinity of the river, which they
had spent the whole day in struggling to attain, thousands
of them remained there wet and shivering until the
morning. Mothers during the darkness were parted
from their children, and wives from their husbands.
Those who, worn out with fatigue and weakness, were
forced to lie down upon the ground, were trodden upon
by others, who pressed on, to reach the river.
Some were pushed into the water and screamed aloud
that they were about to drown, and when the dawn of
the morning came, misery, wretchedness, and fear were
to be seen on every face.
During the whole day and night, Henri was either on
the bank, or passing between it and the town.
He had, early in the day, stripped himself of his
coat, and when the evening came, he could not find
it. Wet through, in his shirt sleeves, this young
generalissimo passed the first night of his command,
guarding the entrance into his little vessels; prohibiting
more than eight from embarking at a time; striving
to his uttermost that none but the weak and aged should
be taken over; solacing the sufferings of those near
him; bidding the wretched not to despair, and pointing
to the opposite shore as the land of hope, where they
would soon again find plenty, comfort, and triumph.
He was still at the same duty on the following morning,
reckoning up, with something like despair, the small
number of those who had as yet passed over, and the
multitude who were yet to pass, when the young Chevalier
came down to him with the news that Madame de Lescure,
and her sister-in-law were in St. Florent. Even
the work, on which he was so intent, could not keep
him from those respecting whom he was so anxious,
and he hurried into town for an hour or two, leaving
the Chevalier in his place.
