The Forest of Vazon | Page 7

expectant ocean.
Then all assembled fell on their knees. The music gave out sharp
plaintive notes which were answered by the voices of men and women
in short, wailing, as it were inquiring, rhythm; this continued till the
sun was on the point of disappearance, when music and voices together
burst into a sad chant, seemingly of farewell; the kneeling people
extending their hands seaward with an appealing gesture. One figure
only was erect; on the projecting boulder, which is still so conspicuous
a feature of the Rocque du Guet, stood the sorceress, her arms also
outstretched, her figure, firm, erect, sharply outlined, such as Turner's

mind conceived when he sketched the Last Man.
Father Austin contemplated the scene from a distance. By his side was
his favourite convert, Jean Letocq.
"Strange!" he said, placing his hand on his companion's shoulder.
"Your race are not sun-worshippers. Never, except on this day of the
year, do they show this feeling; but who that saw them to-day would
doubt that they are so! Is it that from old times their intense love of
nature has led them to show in this way their sadness at its decay? or do
they by mourning over the close of the sun's longest day symbolize
their recognition of the inevitable end of the longest life of man? I
cannot tell. But, blind as this worship is, it is better than that of the
work of man's hands. By God's will your countrymen may be led from
kneeling to the created to mount the ladder till they bend the knee only
to the Creator. It may be well, too, that their chosen object of
veneration is the only object in nature which dies but to rise again.
Thus may they be led to the comprehension of the great truth of the
resurrection. But Satan," he added with warmth, "must be wrestled with
and cast down, specially when he takes the forms of temptation which
he has assumed to-day: those of power and beauty. Prayer and fasting
are sorely needed."
For once his pupil was not altogether docile. "Thou hast taught me,
father," he replied, "the lesson of charity. This old woman is sinful, her
error is deep, but may she not be converted and saved?"
"The devils can never regain Paradise," replied the priest sternly. "Arm
thyself, Jean, against their wiles, in which I fear thou art already
entangled. The two forms we have to-day seen are but human in
seeming: demons surely lurked beneath."
Jean was now in open rebellion. "Nay, good father," he said decisively,
"the maiden was no fiend; if her companion be an imp of darkness, as
well she may, be it my task to rescue her from the evil snare into which
she has fallen!" He had indeed a vivid recollection of the soft, human
hand to which he had ventured to give a gentle pressure when he had
assisted in placing the wreath on the fair, marble, brow, and had no

doubt of the girl's womanhood. As he spoke he vanished from the side
of the priest, who, seeing the two objects of his pious aversion entering
the darkening glades of the wood, was at no loss to divine the cause of
his disappearance. The holy father shook his head, and sighed deeply.
He was accustomed to disappointments, but this day his path had to an
unusual extent been beset with thorns. His faith was unshaken, and he
humbly laid the fault on his own shoulders, promising further
privations to his already sorely afflicted body. Meanwhile he descended
the hill, directing his course to Lihou. Pausing on his way through the
forest to replace the cross on the oak, he saw Jean, walking slowly
homewards, his listless step showing that his quest had failed. The Evil
One had, he thought, for the time at least, forborne to press his
advantage. Further off he heard the scattered voices of the dispersing
throng.

CHAPTER III.
DEVOTION.
"There glides a step through the foliage thick, And her cheek grows
pale and her heart beats quick, There whispers a voice through the
rustling leaves, And her blush returns, and her bosom heaves; A
moment more--and they shall meet. 'Tis past--her lover's at her feet."
Parasina.--BYRON.
After visiting all the accessible parts of the island Jean satisfied himself
that it was useless to search further in them for traces of the strangers.
Persons so remarkable could not, it was clear, conceal themselves from
the knowledge of the inhabitants. He must therefore either admit that
the monk's surmise was correct, or must search in quarters hitherto
unexplored. Though his rejection of the former alternative was a
foregone conclusion, his adoption of the latter was a remarkable proof
of the strength of his passion. There was only one district