Ere long all arrangements were made.  It would be impossible to enumerate half the crosses, circles, pentagrams, naked swords, cross-bones, chafing-dishes, and vials of incense which the sorcerer found to be necessary.  The child was fortunately deemed superfluous.  Euschemon was brought up from his dungeon, and, his teeth chattering with fright and cold, set beside his bell to hold a candle to the devil.  The incantations commenced, and speedily gave evidence of their efficacy.  The bell trembled, swayed, split open, and a female figure of transcendent loveliness attired in the costume of Eve stepped forth and extended her lips towards the bishop.  What could the bishop do but salute them?  With a roar of triumph the demon resumed his proper shape.  The bishop swooned.  The apartment was filled with the fumes of sulphur.  The devil soared majestically out of the window, carrying the sorcerer under one arm and Euschemon under the other.

It is commonly believed that the devil good-naturedly dropped Euschemon back again into Paradise, or wheresoever he might have come from.  It is even added that he fell between Eulogius and Eucherius, who had been arguing all the time respecting the merits of their bells, and resumed his share in the discussion as if nothing had happened.  Some maintain, indeed, that the devil, chancing to be in want of a chaplain, offered the situation to Euschemon, by whom it was accepted.  But how to reconcile this assertion with the undoubted fact that the duties of the post in question are at present ably discharged by the Bishop of Metz, in truth we see not.  One thing is certain:  thou wilt not find Euschemon’s name in the calendar, courteous reader.

The mulct to be imposed upon the parish of Epinal was never exacted.  The bell, ruptured beyond repair by the demon’s violent exit, was taken back and deposited in the museum of the town.  The bells of Eulogius and Eucherius were rung freely on occasion; but Epinal has not since enjoyed any greater immunity from storms than the contiguous districts.  One day an aged traveller, who had spent many years in Heathenesse and in whom some discerned a remarkable resemblance to the sorcerer, noticed the bell, and asked permission to examine it.  He soon discovered the inscription, recognised the mysterious characters as Greek, read them without the least difficulty—­

“[Greek:  Mae kinei Kamarinan akinaetos gar ameinoon]—­”

and favoured the townsmen with this free but substantially accurate translation:—­

“CAN’T YOU LET WELL ALONE?”

BISHOP ADDO AND BISHOP GADDO

Midday, midsummer, middle of the dark ages.  Fine healthy weather at the city of Biserta in Barbary.  Wind blowing strong from the sea, roughening the dark blue waters, and fretting their indigo with foam, as though the ocean’s coursers champed an invisible curb.  On land tawny sand whirling, green palm-fans swaying and whistling, men abroad in the noonday blaze rejoicing in the unwonted freshness.