kettle, which one of the fugitives was taking with him, slipped and rolled down the rocks. A French sentinel cried Qui vive? “But the kettle, luckily,” writes Arnaud, speaking of it, “not being one of the talking kettles of Dodona, made no reply, and the sentinel did not repeat his question.”
The paths were dangerous by which the Waldenses accomplished their nocturnal flight,—but, they succeeded in it.
When daylight again appeared, and the mists rose from the valleys, the enemy turned their blood-thirsty glances toward the eyrie of the Basiglia; but behold! the eagles had flown, and the fortress was empty. Not a trace remained of the warrior troop, and the thick mists which continued through the whole day to linger over the mountains, favored their flight through the rocky wilderness. “When we,” relates Arnaud, “reached Majère, after having long sought for water in vain, the Lord took compassion on us, and sent us abundant rain.”
In the mean time, the change in political relationships had all at once altered the condition of the Waldenses.
Victor Amadeus, of Savoy, entered into a confederacy with England and Germany against France, and sent messages of peace, and perfect amnesty, to the little warrior band of Waldenses, on condition that they should aid him in a war with France.
“You have,” thus said the regent, “only one God and one Prince. Serve both faithfully. Hitherto we have been enemies; but henceforth we shall be friends. Others have been the occasion of your misfortunes.
