black as the wind sweeps over it, the next it springs into life again; and thus you go on, by turns losing and discovering the device formed by the lights.  Thus from moment to moment there appeared before us, in letters that seemed to blaze and flicker, something that looked like a great official placard. ’Sommation!’—­this was how it was headed.  I read a few words at a time, as it came and went; and who can describe the chill that ran through my veins as I made it out?  It was a summons to the people of Semur by name—­myself at the head as Maire (and I heard afterwards that every man who saw it saw his own name, though the whole facade of the Cathedral would not have held a full list of all the people of Semur)—­to yield their places, which they had not filled aright, to those who knew the meaning of life, being dead.  NOUS AUTRES MORTS—­these were the words which blazed out oftenest of all, so that every one saw them.  And ‘Go!’ this terrible placard said—­’Go! leave this place to us who know the true signification of life.’  These words I remember, but not the rest; and even at this moment it struck me that there was no explanation, nothing but this vraie signification de la vie. I felt like one in a dream:  the light coming and going before me; one word, then another, appearing—­sometimes a phrase like that I have quoted, blazing out, then dropping into darkness.  For the moment I was struck dumb; but then it came back to my mind that I had an example to give, and that for me, eminently a man of my century, to yield credence to a miracle was something not to be thought of.  Also I knew the necessity of doing something to break the impression of awe and terror on the mind of the people.  ‘This is a trick,’ I cried loudly, that all might hear.  ’Let some one go and fetch M. de Clairon from the Musee.  He will tell us how it has been done.’  This, boldly uttered, broke the spell.  A number of pale faces gathered round me.  ’Here is M. le Maire—­he will clear it up,’ they cried, making room for me that I might approach nearer.  ’M. le Maire is a man of courage—­he has judgment.  Listen to M. le Maire.’  It was a relief to everybody that I had spoken.  And soon I found myself by the side of M. le Cure, who was standing among the rest, saying nothing, and with the air of one as much bewildered as any of us.  He gave me one quick look from under his eyebrows to see who it was that approached him, as was his way, and made room for me, but said nothing.  I was in too much emotion myself to keep silence—­indeed, I was in that condition of wonder, alarm, and nervous excitement, that I had to speak or die; and there seemed an escape from something too terrible for flesh and blood to contemplate in the idea that there was trickery here.  ’M. le Cure,’ I said, ’this is a strange ornament that you have placed on the front of your church.  You are standing here to enjoy the effect.  Now that you have seen how successful it has been, will not you tell me in confidence how it is done?’