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 unexplored, and that was practically unapproachable.